Page 49 of Pervade London
With my Strad by my side, I tried to read the faces of the judges.
The place was empty other than the men and women who sat in the front row…the gatekeepers. They would decide who would continue on to the next stage of the submission process. All of us who played today wanted a coveted place in the string section. Only one of us would be chosen.
Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or the fact my life had been ripped apart. But I felt small in the vastness of the theatre. All those empty seats rising into the dark, waiting for people who would probably never hear me play.
The agony of possible failure resonated through every cell of my body. Had I failed to bleed out the notes needed to win my place amongst them?
There came a nod from Patrick Woo, the senior conductor…the man I’d needed to impress above all others. “We’ll be in touch, Ms. Rampling.”
With my instrument clutched to my chest, I hurried to the edge of the stage and stepped down into the dimness of a hallway.
“Is that a Strad?” asked Salme, a fellow student at the Royal Academy.
The dark-haired Baltic bombshell proudly held her precious Carrodus Guarneri, a violin known to have been played by Paganini himself. After relaying this fact to the class, she had made it a point to mock our instruments.
Usually I avoided her. She was about to audition, and God, she looked like a star in that short, glittering dress.
“I’ve never seen you play that violin in class,” she said, looking surprised. “Is it yours?”
I nodded, trying to rise out of my melancholy.
“What a waste.” Her posh accent sliced through my dignity.
Putting her cruelty down to nervousness, I walked away.
“I’m surprised you had the guts to audition,” she called after me.
I turned to face her.
“Stay away from the bridge.” I nodded to her violin. “I heard you practicing earlier and thought you were playing a horror score. Then I realized you were attempting Mozart.”
“Go back to serving tables, Amelia.”
“It’s Emily. And I teach violin.”
“Then I feel sorry for your students.”
“Aren’t you keeping them waiting?”
“I’m just giving them time to recover from your dumpster fire of a performance.”
I stood there staring after her as she mounted the steps to the stage. Then I took a calming breath and hurried away.
Halfway down the hall, I peered into the room where the others were waiting. They were probably going to throw all sorts of questions my way, and I wasn’t ready to face anyone. I continued on.
Over a decade’s worth of lessons…four years at the Royal Academy of Music…a lifetime preparing for one moment.
All of it leading here, to these last fifteen minutes.
And I just knew I’d fucked it up.
Inside a darkly lit room, I placed my bow and violin on a corner armchair and then headed over to a long wooden table. Pushing myself onto it, I lay back, stared at the ornate ceiling, and tried to clear my thoughts.
I’d only slept a few hours since Xander had walked out of our room at The Biltmore. I hoped no one discovered my hiding place.
Nothing to see here.
Just a girl with no talent.
