“Oh, I don’t mind. He demands the best from all of us and it can only make us better.” Like an overseer demanding that the slaves pick cotton faster, I thought.
The rest of the rehearsals went the same, but with few untoward incidents, a change for which I would like to take credit, but know I couldn’t.
With some hesitation I called Amanda Friend and told her about my début as a musician and offered to leave tickets for her and the man who had accompanied her to the council meeting at which the seniors had got rid of Councillor Rader.
“Thank you, but he’s gone back to Toronto. He was just visiting. He’s my cousin. I will take one ticket, however. I didn’t know you were a musician.”
The night of the grand opening arrived and I still had no idea of who the saboteur was. I had an orchestra full of people with means and opportunity, but no one with an apparent motive.
The room was packed with relatives and friends of the musicians and some of Hans’s former students and fellow-retirees. Everyone seemed eager and expectant.
I was uncomfortable in my suit as I seldom wore it since my retirement, but at least Hans hadn’t insisted that we wear tuxedos. When he entered to a round of applause, however, he was wearing one. He bowed, then tapped his baton on the stand. It broke in two. Unfazed, he pulled a ballpoint pen from his inside pocket, raised it, and the performance of his magnum opus began.
For a minute or two all went well, then a trumpeter found that his horn lacked volume. He blew with a gale-force breath and from the bell of his instrument flew a wad of handkerchiefs which hit Hans in the forehead.
Then a violinist played the wrong passage, causing a moment of cacophony. Someone had shuffled the pages of her score. Next, Al’s trumpet made some unmusical squawks. He held it up, shook it and slapped it, then looked at it, puzzled.
The audience was puzzled too. Were these interruptions accidents or were they part of some very avant garde music?
My solo was approaching. I stood up and raised the triangle in my left hand while holding the metal rod in my right. My hands were trembling and perspiring with nervousness. Maybe that’s why I dropped the rod. I fell to my knees and groped about on the floor. The final notes were played. I found it! I stood up, suppressing the urge to shout “Eureka!” and, several seconds late, struck the triangle. A D flat rang out.
