Concert by the Sea

'But we're not really by the sea.'

'I think you'll find The Sea is the name of the painting on the wall beside the piano.'

'Oh. Oh, yes. Very clever.'

On Saturday afternoon, Jacko went and played a round of golf. When he got home, a little after 6:30, Vanessa was once again hard at practice.

'Gosh. Is it that time already. I hadn't noticed,' Vanessa said. 'We might need to take something out of the freezer for supper,'

'Or we could go and see if Franco could squeeze us in.'

'Fine by me,' Vanessa said. 'In which case, give me another 15 minutes.' And then she added: 'And maybe a glass of wine.'

At Casa di Nonna, Franco greeted the Jackmans like old friends.

'Where have you been?' Franco said. 'We have missed you.'

'Vanessa has been re-learning to play the piano,' Jacko said.

'The piano. I always wanted to be able to play the piano,' Franco said. 'But I suppose you need to practice, eh? And when would I have time to practice?' Not that he seemed too unhappy about his lack of time to practice.

As usual, Vanessa and Jacko left it to Franco to decide what they would eat.

'I think calamari fritti. And then lamb – al forno – and some asparagus. The asparagus is very good at the moment.'

The food was up to its usual high standard but, as Franco cleared away their empty plates, Jacko announced that he was not feeling well.

Vanessa looked at him with mild concern. 'Oh?'

'Yes. I think that I shall require the nurse this evening.'

Vanessa smiled. 'Oh. That kind of not feeling very well. Well, the nurse will need to finish her wine. Keep her strength up. Some patients can be very hard to deal with.'

Jacko nodded. 'In my experience,' he said, 'it's usually the nurse who makes the patients hard. Thankfully.'

When they arrived back at the house, Jacko retired to bed – which was only sensible for a 40-something-year-old who was not feeling well. About ten minutes later, Nurse Vanessa arrived.

Another patient – that is to say not Jacko – might have thought that her tunic was a touch on the short side. They might also have wondered at her white fishnet stockings – which stopped a handspan below the hem of her tunic. On the other hand, her white tunic was adorned with a red cross. That had to be a good sign, surely. And there was a stethoscope draped around her neck. And she was carrying what looked like a doctor's bag.

'So, Mr Jackman,' Nurse Vanessa asked, 'what appears to be the problem?'

'It's, umm, down here,' Jacko said, indicating the region of his lower abdomen.

'Let's have a look, shall we?' Nurse Vanessa donned a pair of latex gloves and peeled back the duvet. 'Ah, yes,' she said, looking at Jacko's half-hard cock. 'Grand Old Duke of York Syndrome. When it is only halfway up, it is neither up nor down.' And she tapped his cock with her latex-clad fingers. 'I think we can sort this out for you.'

Nurse Vanessa took a plastic bottle out of her doctor's bag and squirted a generous amount of colourless gel into the palm of one of her gloved hands.

'This might feel a little cool at first,' she said. 'But it will soon warm up.'

And the gel did, indeed, feel a little cool as she applied it – liberally – to Jacko's half-hard cock, his balls, and the groove between his bum cheeks. But then the coolness quickly gave way to a peppery warmth.

'Mmm,' he said.

'Right. Let's just see what's in here, shall we?' And a slippery latex-clad finger worked its magic at the entrance to Jacko's arsehole and then, almost effortlessly, slid inside.

'Oh, fuck, yes,' Jacko said.

'Yes. And when it is up, it is up,' Nurse Vanessa said.

And Jacko's cock rose to the occasion.

Jacko, acting in his new role as Vanessa's manager and chief publicist, sent out 20 invitations to the 'Concert by the Sea'.

'There are bound to be a few people who won't be able to make it,' he said. But he was wrong. They all accepted. In fact, Marlene Masters asked if it might be possible to bring her sister.

'We'll need to get some decent wine in,' Vanessa said. 'And I'll need to make some canapes.'

'No. We'll get caterers,' Jacko said. 'And maybe a couple of flunkies. I don't think that you should be seen until the moment that you appear on stage.'

'Easy, Jacko. It's just a little "at home",' Vanessa said.

'No. We're going to do it right,' Jacko insisted.

The 'Concert by the Sea' was an unqualified success.

At Marion's suggestion, Vanessa began with Satin Doll.

'You can play it in your sleep,' Marion said. 'It'll give you a chance to settle in. Get comfortable. Start to enjoy the occasion.

'And then, I think, Misty – with that extended improv intro that you played for me the other day. Tease the audience a bit. Get them thinking. Get them guessing. What is it? What's she playing? And then let them in on the secret. Boom, boom.'

Vanessa planned a set of about 35 minutes. But, such was the audience reaction that she ended up playing for more than three-quarters of an hour.

'Thank you,' she said. 'Thank you. Thank you. I owe it all to Jacko. Were it not for Jacko, I would never have acquired my piano. But he insisted. Absolutely insisted. And, as many of you know, when Jacko insists, he insists. In fact he insists that he insists – and probably a few iterations beyond that.'

The assembled guests laughed. Most of them were well acquainted with Jacko.

When the guests had all drifted off into the night, and the caterers had returned the townhouse to some semblance of order, Vanessa and Jacko retired to the terrace to enjoy a nightcap.

'Happy?' Jacko said.

'I think so,' Vanessa said. 'I think Marion was right. On top of everything else, you do need confidence. You do need to believe in what you are doing. You can fudge technique – at least to some degree. But you can't fudge confidence. Confidence gets you over all those moments when you are not one-hundred percent sure what note you are going to play next. I don't think that Erroll Garner really cared that he couldn't read music. He knew that he knew what he wanted to do, what he wanted to achieve. And he knew that he could do it. End of story.'

Later that same evening, Vanessa asked: 'So ... who am I going to be tonight? Meryl Streep? Emma Thompson? Angela of the wonderful arse? And her arse was looking especially wonderful this evening. I'm sure that you must have noticed.'

'I did. And it was,' Jacko said, as he fondled Vanessa's down-covered snatch. 'But, no, tonight I think you should be Vanessa Jackman. I've never fucked a famous jazz pianist before.'

'Hey, first time for everything,' Vanessa said.