Loving Miss Hatto Page #7

them standing in the aisles

at the Strathmore.

Typical Barrie exaggeration.

Just you and... Miss Guisely.

Enhancement.

Like the recordings.

No harm done.

Hertfordshire's Bonnie and Clyde.

We shan't die in a hail of bullets,

hopefully.

You'll manage, will you?

Looking forward to it, Ducky.

Fill the place with dancing girls.

Hmm...

You sure?

Go on.

Shame to waste it.

Don't you know there's a war on?

'And in a change to our

advertised programme,

'there will now be a tribute to the

acclaimed pianist, Joyce Hatto,

'whose death

was announced yesterday.

'Joyce Hatto had renaissance

in the last few years of her life,

'when unable to perform in concert

because of illness,

'she concentrated on recording.

'Many tributes have been paid...'

Got away with it, Ducky.

The top one's the Laszlo Simon

and the bottom one's Hatto.

They're identical.

And that can't happen unless one's

been copied from the other.

Now, here's the Rachmaninov

second and third.

That's Joyce on the top and that's

Yefim Bronfman on the bottom.

They're slightly different because

they've taken his and speeded it up

and then pitch corrected.

So you'll go ahead with the story.

We need to find one more fake

to put me in the clear legally.

Look, he...

He might just talk to me.

Sure. I mean, it's sad, isn't it?

I'm not trying to crush

the poor old bugger.

If he tells us the truth, I'll print

it and if he doesn't, he's had it.

I'm sorry the Gramophone has

got its knickers in a twist,

but from our end, there is no story.

It's Joyce on the box

and it's Joyce on the recording.

So, the two they've found

are sheer coincidence?

All the others are genuine?

Absolutely.

What about the Godowsky?

We didn't release the Godowsky.

I told you, Joyce wasn't

up to scratch on it.

The Godowsky was clever because

it was nicked from three pianists

and it was speeded up.

So, you could've played it

to Marc-Andre Hamelin

and he wouldn't have had a clue

he was listening to himself.

I mean, it was brilliant, really.

Right, that's going online.

And once the red tops

get hold of it...

Heaven help Barrie.

'So far the husband of Joyce Hatto

'is not, as far as I know, coming

forward with his side of the story.

'But if it does turn out that some

or all of Joyce Hatto's recordings

'are from other sources, that really

will be very sad indeed.'

Mr Coupe.

Mr Coupe.

Look, this is vile.

My father-in-law had cancer. It

makes people absolutely desperate.

That's what we'll pay for

an exclusive. Just call me.

Then you can get rid of this lot.

It's desperately sad, and we want

people to see your side.

Nobody will think the worse of you.

Mr Coupe?

You dumb cluck,

we're cooking for one, aren't we?

Well, we could have predicted it

ending like this, couldn't we?

Typical Barriean muddle.

I'm trying to think if

anything you ever did came right.

No answer came, none.

I hope you're not going to say

I had anything to do with this.

No, we can't have Joyce's name

dragged through the mud, can we?

No, that's right.

Because what you have to remember

is that all the things that

happened to me were your fault.

Because nothing is ever

Joyce's fault, is it?

No.

Joyce mucks up her audition for

the BBC. Is that Joyce's fault?

No, that was Barrie's fault.

He made her nervous.

He was too jolly

or he was too encouraging

or he wasn't encouraging enough.

Joyce has a miscarriage -

not usually anyone's fault

but in this case,

it was Barrie's fault.

Oh, and then, of course,

Barrie went to prison!

Did he murder someone?

Did he hit an old lady

on the head with a brick?

No, he just messed up

on his purchase tax returns,

trying to earn a living so that

Joyce could stay in the house

and Joyce could carry on

playing the piano,

which, by the way, wasn't anything

anyone wanted to pay money to hear.

You said you'd make me famous!

I was stupid, then, wasn't I?

Cos I tell you what,

when I first walked into

the Strathmore and heard you play,

I was quite a happy chap.

I was nothing special,

mucking about at the publishers',

joking with the girls in the office,

but I tell you what, I was doing OK.

You loved me. Yes, I did.

But living with

a disappointed person is hard.

It drains the flippin'

life out of you.

Maybe it was a daft scheme

putting out those recordings

but I thought it might cheer you up.

Simple as that.

So, what are you going to tell

your sympathetic lady journalist?

I could just tell her the truth.

Golly. That would be a novelty.

That you hadn't recorded in years.

That you were too ill to play.

That every interview

you gave was a lie.

That would make my obituaries

pretty meaningless, wouldn't it?

You went down

with the Titanic, Joyce.

I'm the poor sod

clinging to a deck chair.

It's every man for himself.

We're Birdy and Pilks.

We were at the funeral.

We've seen the news

about the recordings

and we've been so upset,

haven't we, Pilks?

Because we loved her and we just

can't see how it can have happened.

You've come to get the full story,

is that it? Well, not...

I'll be giving my story to the Daily

Mail, you can read it in there.

That do you? Oh, dear.

We haven't just come poking around.

Pilks said we shouldn't just turn up

but no-one was answering the phone

and your website's shut down.

Well, I can tell you what I'm going

to tell the Daily Mail, if you like.

But you're not going to like it.

Give Barrie the...

God, I'll forget my head next.

I was having a clear-out

and this was in a cupboard.

Do you remember?

I should say.

They're what landed me

in the Old Bailey.

Look, girls, I...

Girls!

Well, you're girls to me.

Shall we sit down?

You're going to read it

in the paper anyway

so you might as well hear it now.

Your Miss Hatto and my Joyce were

perhaps not quite the same person.

Oh, my God! It still works.

Oh, yes. That's why we brought it.

We interviewed Miss Hatto

for the school mag.

We thought you might like to

hear it. The tape was still in it.

'Miss Hatto...

'Oh, sorry, Birdy,

what am I asking first?'

'What's the best thing

about being a concert pianist?'

'Yes, sorry. Miss Hatto,

can you tell us, please,

'what is the best thing

about being a concert pianist?

'Well, I think it's that

every time you sit down to play,

'you don't actually know

what's going to happen

'because every concert is different,

every audience is different.

'And you don't always want them to

say, "Wasn't Joyce Hatto wonderful?"

'Or you don't even necessarily

want them to say,

'"Wasn't Chopin wonderful?"

or Bach or Beethoven.

'I want them to go away feeling

'something wonderful and special

has happened just to them.

'And what's the worst thing?

'Birdy! What?

'Well, it... it can be quite lonely.

'I'm very lucky,

I have the most encouraging husband.

'I can get a little bit

discouraged sometimes

'when a piece doesn't quite go

as I think it should

'and I say, "Oh, Barrie I can't do

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