Cassius’s frown deepened.He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dried her cheeks, dabbing them with mute efficiency, like a costumer applying her rouge.
‘An intimate pot of tea?’she asked, covering her gratitude with a small laugh.‘Is there such a thing?’
‘I didn’t know how she would feel about champagne.And cheap vodka was not likely to help, was it?’He tucked his handkerchief away just as Karl’s heavy steps resounded behind them.‘Come along,’ he called over his shoulder as he crossed the stage.‘Let’s discover whether this composer is any good.Because I will not accept anything but the best for my Odette.’
Chapter 6
‘Andthatisthefinale!’Composer Ezra Northcote flicked his fingers off the keys with a flourish.He sagged into himself as he relaxed from the piano, letting his stiff-backed playing posture slump a little.A patter of applause rippled through the cast, although Karl’s claps were the loudest and fastest.Clustering around the piano, the performers chatted to one another as they offered their thoughts, compliments, and perhaps attempted to curry a little favour with both Karl and Ezra.
Except for Odette, who, like Cassius, didn’t need to bother with pandering.
‘What do you think?’she asked.
Cassius grunted.‘It’s adequate.’
‘Adequate?From you, I would consider that high praise for anyone else—but I will not accept it for my opera.Why only adequate?’
Cassius flicked through the first few pages of his copy of the score.Technically, there was nothingwrongwith it.But something wasn’trightwith it, either.He could neither articulate what was wrong, nor could he give the score the compliment she was craving.‘I have not decided yet.But at present, it is only adequate.’
He traded a glance with the composer, who was gathering up his sheets.For a moment, Ezra looked like he might ask a question, but then Gustav tapped his shoulder, and he was drawn into the conversation.Cassius took the chance to slip away.He needed to pull together the orchestra so that rehearsals could start in a few days.Probably audition for a few replacements for the handful of players who’d moved on to bigger and better opportunities or abandoned their musical dreams.He needed to organise…
‘Odette?’Cassius paused at the look on her face.She was normally in a flutter at these early sessions, anxious to pour over the score and start reading her part, but today she held back, watching the others without joining in.‘I didn’t mean to upset you, but I will not lie.Once the orchestra begins rehearsal, we can make any changes it needs.Opening night will be perfect.It always is.’
‘It’s not that,’ she said.
‘If I shouldn’t have said what I did to Mrs Crofts, I am not apologising.If you want me to do or say specific things during this courtship, you will need to tell me.’
‘It is not that either.You… you were wonderful with her.I’m worried about something else.And if you want to become better at courting, you should ask what is troubling me.’
‘What’s troubling you?’He was about to add a dismissive wave to the question, but stopped himself mid-movement.She was clutching her handkerchief and wringing it between both palms, twisting it into a knot, then releasing it in rhythmic bursts.Genuine concern peppered his next words.‘Odette?Why so worried?’
‘I am going to have a postcard made.They will use a camera to capture my likeness.The stationer has requested it, and Karl thinks it will be good for the show.I said I had no time to go to his studio, but Karl said he could come here.I have never had my picture made before.The idea… it scares me.’
‘Are you concerned you won’t look perfect?You don’t have to worry about that.You always do.’
‘It’s not that.’She bowed her head and flicked him the hint of a smile.Preening cat.She knew precisely how beautiful she was.‘I am worried about the photograph itself.One of the stagehands warned me.He said that the photograph keeps a little piece of your soul.Another said that if the glass they use to make the image breaks, I shall forever be cursed with bad luck.’She lowered her voice.‘I may not even know it has happened.And there will be nothing I can do to prevent it.’
‘Don’t tell me you are as superstitious as a stagehand?You have travelled the world.Surely you know better than to listen to them.’
‘Ialwayslisten to them.They know the stage better than anyone.There are some stagehands that have saved my life with their talk about badly kept ropes.And they always know what part of the stage has the best acoustics, and where the lighting is poor.I owe them everything.’
He could argue with curses, but not with that logic.She was right.A good stagehand could point out the most secure nail on the stage.Odette was no fool.She had performed the world over, been feted by kings and princes, and still she made time to listen to the common men who worked the ropes and levers.No wonder she had remained so stable on her pedestal—she trusted those who had built it.
‘Luck has given me everything,’ she said.‘I must believe in it.’
‘You are a singular talent.Luck has created you no more or less than it has created any of us.’Far too raw a compliment.It scorched him to say it, and yet it was true.
‘Miss Delaney?’A man in a day suit inched towards them from the edge of the stage.A wooden box camera sat on his shoulders, its tripod legs braced against his chest.Working fast, he placed the apparatus on the stage, spread its legs, and jiggled it about until it stood stable.‘I am here to capture your likeness.If now is still a good time?’
‘Will you stay with me?’she asked.‘Karl is too busy keeping the composer happy, and there is no one else I trust.Besides, you know how I should be lit.You have seen me onstage so often.’
‘Far too often,’ he grumbled, but he nodded all the same.‘If I must.’
Cassius shifted to the side while the photographer busied himself with his camera.The man’s assistant brought over a chair from backstage, a stiff wooden thing, and Odette perched on its edge, still wringing her fingers.The photographer bent to peer into his wooden box, then hid underneath a long black cloth that was attached to the camera.Occasionally, he peeked out to cast a look at Odette and threw requests at his assistant, who negotiated the necessary adjustments of the overhead lights.
‘You will have to hold the pose for some seconds,’ the photographer called as he emerged once again from behind the fabric.‘I will count down how much time is left.Usually, the process takes about twenty seconds, but in here, it might be a little longer.Are you ready?’
Odette nodded.She rested her hands in her lap, fidgeted for a second, and stilled.‘Cassius?How am I?’
