Death and the Maiden continued

“You look very hot Ian - are you sure you’re OK?” asked Amelia who by now had noticed his sick look.
“Yes I am!” replied Ian with exasperation and a slight panic in his voice, “ now can we just get on with the second movement?”
“I think, Ian, that we ought to take a minute to agree how we approach it. I think....” said James carefully.
“No, we must just play it. We have to play it. We all know it - just take your lead from me. Ready....and... one – two…”

The second movement started with Hamish, Amelia and James staring at the reddened face and bulging eyes of their Cellist. He was playing with a passion they’d not seen before. He seemed to be in a trance as the five variations of the original song unfolded with their increasing fervour until the Coda brought the movement to an end. Well it was supposed to be. Just thirteen bars from the finish Ian let out a guttural cry, threw his bow from the stage and collapsed from his chair with his cello on top of him.
“Ian?” cried out Amelia, leaping to her feet, “quick ,James, do something!” James carefully plaing his viol on the floor behind his chair replied,
“OK, don’t panic. Ian, Ian what is the problem, can you hear me.....Hamish, quick, call the ambulance, I think that he has had a heart attack.” Hamish didn’t have to wait to be asked and was pounding from the stage to fetch his mobile from his bag. Amelia stood staring at the prostrate Ian with tears rolling down her cheeks
“Ian, please say something,” she implored, “Please wake up!”
“Amelia, dear, calm down - we must keep him warm and unstressed - don’t get too upset, please?”
“I knew there was something wrong when I got here tonight...”
“Yes, well, if you’d been here on time...”
“It wasn’t my fault. Hey look, he’s trying to say something - it’s OK Ian, we are here with you. Sorry, you will have to speak louder, I can’t hear you.” Kneeling down to Ian whose eyes had now pleadingly opened into hers she put herself as close as she could to hear what he was saying. Her hand held his.
“Take my hand,” Ian murmured, ” you beautiful creature. I am your friend - I didn’t mean to be angry. Please don’t be upset, I’m not angry with you. I think I.....”
“Ian, come back, please come back. James, I think he’s dead.” The two of them stared and the now completely still body with one hand in Amelia’s and the other still clasping his cello.
“Oh,” said James quietly, “earlier I told him that life always seemed better after Schubert.” Amelia replied simply,
“Perhaps it is.”