He nodded, placed his hand on the small of my back, and ushered me inside.
The theatre at The Fire Station was small compared to most auditoriums, but it still seemed vast to me when I stepped into it an hour before the preview was about to start. The stage was at ground level, marked out by large sheets of specialised dance flooring and draping black wings. The seating bank was similar to ones I’d seen in schools or other community spaces and could be collapsed back against the wall when not in use, creating extra room for rehearsals.
It was a functional space, not a red curtain or a hint of gold leaf in sight. I was grateful for that as I stood behind one of the wings and the auditorium slowly filled. On the other side, Haru was ready in his costume, warming up. I kept my eyes on him, finding comfort in his slow and methodical movements, and attempted to convince myself I could emulate his professionalism.It was a heartfelt piece, haunting and lyrical, and only ten minutes long. This was the only solo dance on the programme. After that, there were various group dances. By the time they got to the end of the evening, the audience would have forgotten about me and my violin playing. I just needed to get things into perspective.
At the appointed time, the house lights dimmed, and a hush fell. There was just enough of a residual glow to make out the front row from where I was standing, and I spotted Justin, sitting front and centre, his handsome face tense. I knew he couldn’t see me, but I sensed he was looking in my direction. It gave me strength.
The stage manager gave me a nod. There was a small X in tape on the floor where I was to stand stage left, in the back corner. The lighting was low for this piece, with none near the backdrop, so Justin has assured me I would only be a silhouette.
The stage manager gave me a thumbs up, so I lifted Octavia to my shoulder, closed my eyes and listened carefully for the opening notes of the track above my thundering pulse.
I opened my eyes again. Why hadn’t it started? I glanced towards the stage manager and found him frowning at me. He made an urgent, ‘do something’ kind of gesture, but it made no sense to me. I couldn’t do anything without the track.
There had been silence in the auditorium at first, a sense of expectation and anticipation, but now the crowd began to whisper and fidget. I felt as if every eye was on me.
What was wrong? Was there a technical problem? I tried to send all these questions to the stage manager with my eyes, but his arm movements just grew more and more frantic.
I tore my eyes from him and looked at Justin instead. I’d adjusted to the darkness enough by that point to make out his features. He was staring back at me, looking distraught. ‘Please,’ he mouthed, his expression imploring.
I had no choice. I couldn’t wait for them to sort out whatever was wrong with the music. I drew my bow across Octavia’s strings, hitting the first long note.
Come on,I told myself, telling my body to relax, my fingers to grip the bow lightly.Do this for Justin.
And, somehow, my self-lecture worked. The first few bars weren’t great, but they were audible, and as time went on, muscle memory took over, my fingers and arm moving as if they hardly belonged to me. I was doing it. I was playing.
It was as wonderful as Justin had said it would be. There was something special about playing live while I saw Haru bring out the emotion and rhythm of the piece with his body, and it kept me anchored, not thinking about where I was and how many people were watching.
At least, it did until someone in the audience coughed. It was loud and brash, not a polite little noise hidden beneath a hand, and while I knew it was unlikely my music-school bully could have tracked me down, but in that moment, Charlie Banister was right there, watching me, taunting me.
I was right in the middle of one of the trickiest sections of the piece, and while I didn’t stop playing, I hesitated, losing the flow. Haru had to add an extra turn to compensate.
I glanced across at Justin. He was looking tense and unhappy on the front row, and all I could think about, despite his support during the last few weeks, was how my doom-and-gloom prophecy was coming true. I was letting him down.I was ruining his big night. Why had I thought I could do this …? I was rubbish. Useless.
Then, as a whole, the audience took a sharp intake of breath. I wondered what had happened. Had Haru tripped? A quick check to the far side of the stage reassured me he hadn’t, and it took a couple more moments before I realised what was going on.
My arms were by my side, bow and violin hanging limply. I’d stopped playing.
But Haru … Haru was still moving, never missing a beat or a movement, his arms and legs sweeping in graceful arcs as he turned and leapt. And I … I was standing there, useless and broken, proving all my doubters right.
As I watched Haru, I realised that the audience hadn’t begun to shuffle and whisper as I’d expected them to. They were transfixed by the beauty of his dancing. He moved in silence, the only noise his bare feet brushing against the floor. He was braver than I would ever be.
Maybe I was nothing. Maybe I was horribly broken. I couldn’t pretend to be anything else after failing so spectacularly in front of all these people. But maybe I could carry on too, like this courageous dancer. Maybe, even broken, I could still play the violin.
As I watched him, I could hear the music playing inside my head, and it began to swell inside me. I lifted my arms and, keeping my eyes on Haru, I drew my bow across the strings.
The atmosphere in the room changed and the audience sat up straighter in their seats, surprised but also energised. Even Haru’s dancing took on a greater intensity, as if he was inhabiting the movements more strongly. All of this spurred me on.I closed my eyes, and I played. I played for my life. And for Justin.
I lost all sense of time and space. All that existed was the music. I felt it soar and swoop within me, and with it came a sense of peace, a sense ofselfthat had been missing for far too long.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Now.
BEN WAS NAILING a stretch of skirting in the kitchen of cottage number two. He’d have to give the buildings proper names at some point, something Scottish sounding that the tourists would like, but he’d always been better with pictures than words, so for now, he just mentally referred to the rentals as one, two and three.
He really wasn’t paying attention to what he was doing and had missed the tack more times than he’d hit it. Letting out a low huff, he dropped the hammer and sat back on his haunches. He’d slipped out of the B&B without having breakfast that morning, which meant he hadn’t seen Alice since she’d stormed out of the garden the evening before. But he hadn’t wanted an audience. He’d go and find her around lunchtime when she’d finished helping Norina. If she really was going to leave, he’d like to clear the air between them. He was hoping he could talk her into remaining in Invergarrig for at least a few more days, which would give PC Wilson a chance to come up with something concrete.
He stood up and scrubbed his face with his hand. How should he handle this? What should he do? Because when she’d shouted at him,she’d let go of the necklace she’d been fiddling with, and while he’d caught glimpses of a chain around her neck, he’d never laid eyes on the pendant at the end of it until that moment.
