‘You seem a little distracted, like you’ve got something on your mind. Would it help to share?’
Would it help? Given that most of the things on my mind are to do with him, he’s probably not the best person to share them with. But then Priya’s words are also playing in my head. I sigh as I try to find a safe place to start the conversation.
‘I spoke to my friends earlier,’ I begin.
‘Priya and Rosie? Are they all right?’
‘They’re fine. I can’t believe you remembered their names though.’
‘Why is that so surprising?’
‘I guess I’m just not used to guys actually listening when I tell them things. I’m pretty sure Stuart wouldn’t remember their names, and he came on to at least one of them.’
‘I’d be flattered but, from what you’ve told me, doing better than Stuart is clearing a very low bar indeed. Anyway, how were they?’
‘Fine. Priya’s husband is an überfan of yours, by the way. He described you as the classical world’s equivalent of Taylor Swift.’
Gabriel laughs. ‘I’ve been called many things, but never that.’
‘He also told me your performance at the Royal Festival Hall made him cry, and that he’d hunt me with dogs if I ever asked you to play “Disturbia” again.’
‘Hmm.’
‘What?’
‘I’m sure this guy means well, but it’s a shame to write off whole genres of music just because they’re outside our particular mould. There are gems and turds in all forms. I’m sure Beethoven would have loved “Disturbia”. Right up his street.’
‘Really?’
‘Oh, yes. Listen to his fifth symphony. TheBa-ba-ba-baaain that is just as powerful a riff as Rihanna’s.’
I smile at him. ‘You really are an enigma, Gabriel. I mean, I know you’ve told me about your family and stuff now, but there are just so many different sides to you. I think you’re possibly the most complex man I’ve ever met.’
‘Is that a good thing?’
‘I always said I wouldn’t date someone from the arts world because it’s not really my scene and I suspected I’d be bored being dragged round galleries or forced to sit through endlessoperas by Mr Highbrow-Arts-Geezer, but you’re not like that at all. You make me want to find out more.’
His eyes are crinkled in amusement. ‘About me, or about music?’ he asks.
‘Both.’
‘And you’re sizing me up to date me, is that right? Do I get a say in the matter?’
Shit. I’ve just realised what I’ve said and I’m mortified.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I babble. ‘I didn’t mean… I was talking metaphorically.’ I don’t need a mirror to tell me that I’m crimson with embarrassment.
‘It’s fine. Nice even. I feel very honoured, thank you.’
Oh, God. I haven’t even propositioned him – well, not properly – and he’s already letting me down gently. Where is a freak tsunami when you need one? He can obviously tell that I’m burning up with humiliation because he leans closer to me and speaks more softly.
‘I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again. You’re good for me, Tori. I haven’t had this much fun in years.’
‘What, watching me open my mouth and shove my foot in it?’
‘Not at all. I’m very flattered, but that’s not what I’m talking about. Let me give you an example using Priya’s husband. So, a lot of the people I spend time with are just like him. They think their musical taste puts them above other people.’ He puts on a pompous voice. ‘“I’m clever because I like Liszt and Brahms, but people who like Rihanna or Taylor Swift are idiots and I despise them and their moronic musical tastes.” Or “I’m even cleverer than you, for you are a mere music baby for liking such obvious composers. I, on the other hand, can fully appreciate the genius of Stravinsky.” It’s nonsense, though. Tell me something. What did you listen to when you were a teenager?’
I smile, grateful to be back on safe ground. ‘It depends how pretentious I was feeling and whether I was trying to impressanyone. On my own, I’d listen to stuff that made me feel empowered to be a woman. Lady Gaga, Taylor Swift, Katy Perry, that kind of thing.’
