Finale

Auckland Star, Volume LXIX, Issue 281, 28 November 1938, Page 17

Finale

By Leonard Ei, Naylor....

Short Story

IV the crazy. cobbled streets of a little sea.side town in the Buy of Naples, a youtliful. bright-eyed ice cream vendor plied his tra<le. Ahvavs lie wore a spotless white jacket. ami a clean kerchief about his neck, while hi* engaging smile matched the gleaming paint and brasswork on his harrow. Not only did young Knrico Gavani sell surpassingly good ice-civam from an unusually spick-and-span Iwrrow. Init he had a novel way of attracting custom -a device so simple that hit* rival* did not consider it worth while to copy his example. Kut novel ideas, even simple ones, were rare in sleepy. medieval Capello, and so Knrico "s business pro« - |K're<l. Always on bin approach the children came 'tumbling down the rickety stair* and across the cobbles from the pink-and-white stuccoe<l cottages, with their pcmiien clutched tightly in their chubby finders. Thrifty and frugal, Enrico's earning*, unlike those of his competitors, went not into bottle* of Cilia uti, but into an old stocking under a loose floor-board. And as ambition, tired by the j»li«teninj; eves a lid rosy cheeks of his little sweetheart Te**a, was another of Knrico's <|ualitie*. one fine day he ami the wellnlle<l stinking (together with certain novel ideas which would have been wasted in Capello) departed for Kngland. leaving a tearful Tessa with a memory of ardent kisses ami fervent promise*, and h mystified juvenile clientele who mu*t henceforward be satisfied with inferior H-e-cream. Signor Knrico (Javanl, maitre d'hotel. was at the summit of his profession. His rise in a few short year* from dishwashing to the direction of the smartest restaurant in London stamped him as a. genius. Even hi* keenest competitor* acknowledged his sovereignty —- and homage of this kind in an artistic pursuit *et* the seal upon virtuosity. In catering for Ijon«lon"«» most critical tastes the tiniest detail was not beneath the notice of the man who had liegtin by (studying the palate* of ragged urchin* in a Neapolitan town. Cuisine, appointments. service—all bore the authentic Uavani imprint which hi* rivals *trove in vain to imitate. <!avani was always a move ahead of hi* contemporaries, even ae. he had been when peddling ice-cream on the cobble* of Capello. Kven the sweet sound* purveyed by (iavani's orchestra were not wholly left to the discretion of his brilliant musical director. Ale*«andro. who, despite hi* glamorous professional name, was really Mr. Alexander Smith, one of London's illustrious son*. Ale**andro might be a musician of rare gifts, but he had to play second fiddle when Uavani made suggestion*. Gavani'* view wa* that other restaurant* might orchestras, but none of them had the inestimable advantage of Gavani a bright idea*. It was sometimes a little difficult for Alessandro to humour (iavani's whims, (iavani seemed to regard musical composition as only a trifle more difficult than shelling peas. Whenever some Hollywood top-liner or Ruritanian princeling wa* making for London (and. of course, for Gavani's) Alessandro was expected to turn himself into a musical sausage machine and compose something special in honour of the distinguished visitor. Alessandro would not have minded so much if <>avani had allowed him to take some of the credit for these musical courtesies. But Gavani would wolk up to the honoured guest s table and take all the pat* on the back for himself, without so much as a wave of the hand in Alessandro'* direction. The musician had to grin and bear it, for the astute (iavani had secured hi* signature to a five years' contract. When this was signed, Alessandro had been only too glad to assure himself of five years' bread and butter, but within a few months he could have walked into half a dozen opposition caravanserais and commanded twice the salary (iavani paid him. A bargain, of course, was a bargain, but even (iavani could not have foreseen the kudos and custom which Alessandro* skill and personality was to bring to his restaurant. Several times the musician hinted to his chief that a rise in salary would be welcome. "You're an ungrateful fellow, Alessandro!'' Gavani would answer in a tone of pained surprise. "I take you from the gutter —I give you a five years' contract. I choose you as the medium for expressing the musical side of my personality. I charge you nothing for my inspiration. You are a lucky man. Alessandro—many musicians as clever as you would give their ears for such a chance!" 'Look here, Alessandro," said Gavani portentously one morning, "the great Herr Richard Meister is due in London to-morrow. In three days' time he will conduct at Covent Garden the first performance of hie new opera. If the verdict of Dresden and Salsburg is anything to go by, it will be a furore. He will, of course, be very busy rehearsing, but between rehearsals even great conductors must eat. I have done a little—what do you nay?—staff work, and Herr Meister will, I think, sup at Gavani'*. We must regale him with some special music, Alessandro—for the greatest living composer we must excel ourselves!" The musical director could see that Gavani had yet another "inspiration," which meant another hectic job of creative work for Alessandro. "Yes. we must give of our best for the master, Alessandro. I have the theme; all you have to do is to convert it into music." (iavani picked up a newspaper and pointed to a picture. "Here's Herr Meister, saying goodbye to the Translantia after his fortieth crossing in her. Poor old Translantia, the deposed queen of the herring pond, is now on her way to the shipbreaker'a yard. Herr Meister seems all broken up himself about it—look At the teara ill his eyes!" A flying speek of grit had certainly provided a tearful touch to Meister's picture. "Now we come to my big idea, Alessandro—a musical 'Farewell to the Translantia.' You know the sort of thing, Ally, my boy—a musical review of her career—a luxury life on the ocean wave. You can get the atmosphere quite easily —just suggest a sort of floating Gavam's! Drop in a spot of drama here and there—fogs, ice-bergs, I hurricanes. But not too much rhythm. I Ally—-the Translantia was a steady old lady. "And now here's the high spot of the whole piece; we will introduce the Translantia's bell—the genuine article —into the music every now and again— so—tum-titty-tum —Bell! — tum-tiddy-tum —Bell! You get the idea, Ally!"

"M'yes—but do I fret the bell?" (iavani gave liim a pitying glance. 1 "•iavani forgets nothing. The Translantia's hell shall be here the day after to-morrow." ! "But in the meantime T can do nothing." protested Alessandro. "for 1 don't know what the note of the J liell is." "Tut. tut. my hoy—this is where you want i>! - ' (iavani tapped his head significantly, picked tip a telegram from his desk and handed it to Alessandro. it was from i the sliiphreakers' yards at Glasgow. and read simply; "Reference your telegram hell is <i Hat." "Now go ahead. Ally, my boy. I give you the idea, the bell, the note —you do the rest. 'Farewell to t lie Translantia' must l>e ready the day after to-morrow, when I have a hunch tlint Herr Meister will drop in for supper. We must please him. Alessandro. If we can prompt the lion of the hour to develop the (iavani habit it will he grand business!" During the next two days Alessandro worked st renuously at. his urgent task, while (iavani strutted proudly among his clientele telling them of the forthcoming great occtsion. and what a marvellous composition he ((iavani) had inspired Alessandro to write. AN hen the eventful evening arrived the gathering at (iavani's was truly representative of the "best people"' on both sides of the Atlantic. It should have been a sight to gladden (iavani's heart, but instead his face wore an | expression blended of anger and i anguish. He barked at the waiters; he yapped at Alessandro; he made life a i misery for all subordinates. For the 2 Translantia's bell had not arrived. ! (iavani had spent half the day in " making frantic telephone calls, but all y the railway company could say wa* ( ' that the bell was somewhere between* Clydeside and London, (iavani had hadj, his own ear waiting all day at tlierf terminus, ready to rush the bell to the* restaurant the moment it arrived. Ten o'clock, eleven o'clock, and stillj no news of the bell. With a sinking heart (iavani saw Herr Meister stridej majestically into the restaurant, tliet cynosure of all eyes. K very one was) keyed up for the expected tribute to aj great artist, (iavani had never )>#for« disappointed his patrons, but this time he was beaten. Dejectedly he went round the tables and broke the newst His patrons seemed very sympathetic, but behind all this (iavani sensed thart they were not too pleased at being ldt down. The conversation flagged awl people began to yawn. "Play something lively, for goodness sake. Alessandro." (iavani snapped. The band-leader began to turn over his music when theie was a great commotion at the door, and a waiter rushd'd up excitedly to (invani. "The bell is here!" he gasped. Hard on his heels came two portiere pushing a. trolley on which was a diupv. bulky-looking package—a strange sight amid their immaculate appointments of (iavani's. "The bell!" shouted Gavani. aside his dignity and flinging his airms wide as if to embrace the package. Everyone stood up, cheering awlnclapping—except Herr Meister, who was not in the secret. Gavani. his face now one broad smile, supervised the hurried unpacking, and placing in position of the bell, and'then, walking on air, approached Herr Meister and acquainted him of the gracious compliment it was proposed to pay him. The great musician beamed over his glasses in delight. From the liand came the soirrids of preliminary tuning-up, and as <iavani glanced towards them he saw Alessandro walking leisurely towards the newly-hung bell, evidently to test its note. (iavani clapped his liandu com- , mandinglv, and Alessandro halted as his chief trotted towards him. i "Cut out the frills and get on with the music, Alessandro," he said sharply. I "We have waited too long already." Alessandro shrugged his shoulders I and tapped his baton on the musicstand. All went well with the first movement ( of "Farewell to the Translantia." Herr Meister nodded approvingly in time with the music and his features wore a beatific smile. But when, in the second movement, the band came to the "tuni-titty-tum-Boll'' bits inspired l>v (iavani. 1 something went wrong with the works. | Either the bell, or the band, or both were out of tune. 1 Poor Alessandro, facing his' orchestra, could see nothing of the audience. He decided that he must continue to the bitter end and hope for the best. Mechanically he went on waving his baton until, out of the corner of his ' eye. he caught sight of Harr Meister with his fingers in his ears. Taking a [ quick glance round, Alessandro saw that, all the other guests had followed Herr Meister's example. The great man's features were contorted with anguish, and the next moment he apmiig up and 1 brought his fist down with a tremendous thump, setting everything on the . table dancing. Then he stormed out t of the place, flinging his arms wide and , breathing fire and brimstone and ; guttural imprecations. i

stepped down from his rostrum, to confront a livid, snortinir chief. excuses, you traitor!" Gavani spluttered. "You did this hoping that I would fire you —you think you get a muclu ;better job elsewhere, eh? Very good»lAlessaiidro. you are fired. I tear up \poiiir contract! You think that all these valued clients of mine will not tell tlhe world what a disgusting row they, heard to-night? You think I mys<A'f will keep quiet when i go to the meeting of my association to-morrowV Go —oet your nice fat contract, Alessanduo!" Bint (iavani's calculations, for once, went) astray. Alessandro had guessed that/the secret of the tragic dissonance lay fin a mistake in the telegram sent to Ga\«ani from the sliiphreakers' yard — just* a tiny mistake indicating the note of tliie bell as G flat instead of A. Arinecl witli evidence in the shape of a written confession and apology from the shipbres kers, Alessandro got his nice fat contract with Gavani's keenest competitor. And such was Alesnandro's popularity that (iavani's patrons, who ha<ji never been satisfied with the seftind liest, began to trickle away to hear Alessandro once more. Somehow Ganani's food did not seem so enticing without the stimulant which Alessandi*>'s music aloue seemed to provide. .And that was the beginning of the e.ntd of (iavani's reign as king of the restaurant world. One foggy morning 3k; stole silently out of London, southwards towards his native sun, with a (bankruptcy order as the onlv souvenir f° f the affluence that had once been his. I lit an obscure back street of a S Neapolitan seaside town is a dingy little cafe wherein sits a dulleved. middle-aged proprietor. On his chin is *a three-days' growth of stubble; around hiis waist an apron that once was white. From an inner room emerges a sallowcheeked, sad-looking woman who looks much older than her years. She sighs hopelessly as she looks at the empty chairs. "Business is terrible, Tessa," grumbles the man. "Only one customer since this morning." "And whose fault is that?" she snaps, "When you went away to England. Knrico, your mind was full of bright ideas. Where are they now—lost with all your money in the fogs of London, I suppose! Pull yourself together. Enrico; try to think of something that will draw the crowd! You remember the little bell yon used to tinkle on your ice cream barrow in the old days, and how the children used to swarm around when they heard it? That bell was a splendid idea. Knrico! If only you had had a few brain-waves like that in Kngland. we should be living in that beautiful villa you were always promising to buy . . . Just a few simple ideas — like that beii." In Enrico's eyes the embers of the old fire smoulder for a moment, and he mutters something under his breath. But Tessa does not understand English swear-words. THE END.