Close Harmony (Food Of Love 3)

“I’ve heard she had some fairly severe provocation, Dafydd. I won’t waste time beating about the bush. This won’t be good for the orchestra, or for you, or, of course, for Vanessa. I’m going to ask you to consider dropping the charge.”

There was a sil

ence. Milan was tempted to enter the room but it was too soon. Better if Dafydd agreed to quietly drop the charge of his own accord.

“I’ve told her what she needs to do for me to drop the charge,” said Dafydd in a low voice. “She can stop this whenever she likes. It’s in her court, Karl-Heinz. If you want to save the orchestra a bit of scandal in the press, tell her to come back to me.”

“Tell her to come back to you? Dafydd, she doesn’t want to.”

“She does,” he said desperately. “Stupid bitch is too stubborn to admit it. She’ll come back, I know it. I just have to show her what she won’t admit to herself.”

“Dafydd.” Karl-Heinz spoke gently but firmly. “You must stop thinking like this. She loves somebody else. You can never have her back.”

“You’re a fucking liar!” he bellowed.

Milan, alarmed at his vehemence, slipped into the room.

“What the fuck’s this?” Dafydd was almost incoherent with rage at being thus intruded on. “Why’s he here? Get out of my home, Kaspar. I know you fucked my wife, you bastard.”

“You were separated,” pointed out Milan, taking up a position on the other side of Dafydd from Karl-Heinz, ready to intercept him if he lashed out. “This is nothing to do with what’s happened tonight. I’m here as Vanessa’s friend, to ask you to leave her alone.”

“You think I’ll do anything to help you, you…”

“Look, Dafydd,” said Karl-Heinz, trying to defuse the incendiary turn the situation had taken. “All I want is to protect the orchestra’s reputation. The orchestra’s reputation is your reputation—you are its Leader. And it’s my reputation, as conductor, too. It’s all our reputations. If you put it in jeopardy, there could be serious consequences for all of us. What do you think the Trustees are going to say about this?”

“I don’t care about that. I care about—about justice!”

“Justice!” spat Milan. “If you cared about justice you would hand yourself in to the police and confess that you are a rapist.”

Dafydd paled, clenching his ham-like fists.

“That’s a lie,” he said, but there was no conviction in it.

“Sit down,” said Milan. “Sit down now. I’ll get you a whisky. I think you should have one.”

Dafydd looked between Karl-Heinz and Milan for a moment or two, his eyes haunted, then he went to the sofa, pushing aside some sheet music to make room for him. He sat there, his head in his hands, while Milan found the whisky and glasses and poured a drink for ap Hughes.

“She hurt me,” he insisted, looking up as Milan stood in front of him.

“You hurt her,” said Milan softly. “I know how much.”

“Fuck off,” he said savagely. “I don’t want to think about you and her. She’s too good for you.”

“Oh, no doubt you are right,” Milan agreed. “That’s why she found someone better.”

“That twatty school kid isn’t better.”

“He’s a good man and she loves him, and he loves her. Leave them be. Heal yourself and let go.”

Karl-Heinz moved up behind Milan, creating a two-man human wall between Dafydd and any kind of escape route.

“Withdraw the complaint,” he said. “Nothing you can do will bring her back to you, but you can save the orchestra from a press scandal. Because, if you press this charge, Vanessa can make things very difficult for you. She can, and should, decide to bring historic charges of rape and sexual assault against you. Have you considered that?”

“She’s got no evidence.”

Milan darted forwards suddenly and took hold of Dafydd by the throat. The move was so sharp and swift that Dafydd could have had no time to respond or defend himself. He was soon pinned back by an unexpectedly strong force and, much as he struggled to remove Milan’s hands, he couldn’t.

“Whether the police decide to prosecute or not,” Milan said, clearly and distinctly, “we all know you did it. If you don’t drop this, now, tonight, your life won’t be worth living. We’ll make sure of it. You’re scum, ap Hughes, and we don’t want you anywhere near our orchestra. You are going to go to the police, drop the charge against Vanessa and then you are going to write a letter of resignation to the Trustees. Okay?”