Page 46 of The Typo

I looked around at the miserable faces of the rest of the orchestra. I didn’t need to consider my decision. I’d arrived at it easily approximately thirty seconds after I’d started my audition.

‘I’d rather not be a member actually. Thank you for taking the time to see me.’ There was no need to descend to the so-called Maestro’s level of rudeness. ‘I’ll find my own way out.’

There was a rustle of surprise around the room, although I think a few people might have been watching me with envy as I picked my way towards the exit.

On an impulse, as I reached the door, I turned round once again to address the room.

‘I work at the Edinburgh Variety. I’m planning to start a ceilidh club in our new venue, the Cellar Bar. If anyone would like to join me for a jam one night, you’re more than welcome. Just keep an eye on social media. I’ll put something out soon with the details, but in the meantime, I’ll leave some of the theatre’s leaflets with my contact info in the foyer. Bye everyone.’

In fact, the idea had only just occurred to me. But I’d noticed the feet tapping during my audition, and I figured that behind the defeated faces, there were probably some musicians who were desperate to have fun for a change. Who was this person? Channelling the confident and comfortable-in-her-own-skin Amy of my emails was apparently no longer such a challenge. It was good to assert myself and take control of my future.

If someone had asked me when I first picked the violin up again what my ultimate ambition was, I would have definitely replied that it was to join an organisation like this orchestra, if they would have me. But now I was the one turning them down, and I was completely happy with my decision.

ChapterTwenty-Four

‘How did it go?’ asked Dad, setting off as soon as I’d done my seat belt up. I swallowed a gasp as we accelerated out into the traffic, provoking several angry beeps from other drivers.

‘It was okay. I slightly fumbled the exercises, but I think the solo saved it for me. Actually, it was better than okay. I played well, and more importantly, I actually enjoyed the experience of performing again.’

‘That’s my girl,’ said Mum, piping up from the back seat where she’d insisted on sitting so she could keep an eye on the emergency sat nav she’d stashed out of my dad’s range of vision. ‘I knew they’d snap you up. They did, right?’

‘Yes, they did offer me a place. But,’ I paused, wondering what their reaction would be, ‘but I turned it down.’

I glanced between them, waiting to read a look of disappointment on their faces before it was carefully masked. But no such expression appeared.

‘Oh, okay,’ said Dad, as casually as if I’d merely made a comment about the weather.

‘Fair enough,’ said Mum. ‘Oops, sorry,’ she added, as the sat nav barked out an instruction to go straight ahead.

And although neither of them pressed me to explain myself, I wanted to articulate out loud the revelation which I’d had, and put paid to any doubts they might be keeping to themselves about my decision.

‘It didn’t feel right. You should have seen the conductor. He was really overbearing, one of those people who get a kick out of being able to control others because of their position. He sucked the joy out of the room. There’s no doubt that everyone in the orchestra is hugely talented, but they all looked so sad. And when they were playing, it was technically brilliant, but I could tell that a lot of them weren’t enjoying themselves, which somewhat defeats the object of playing for fun. When he said I’d got a place, I felt nothing. Or rather, I had this sense of dread instead of the excitement I thought I’d feel.’ I reached up and adjusted my new hair scarf, the silky stars connecting me once again with how it all began. ‘In that moment, I realised the reason I started playing the violin in the first place was because it made me happy. I lost my way for a bit and it made me miserable, but now I’m rediscovering that happiness and I don’t want to stamp down on it again. So, I’m trusting my instincts and following my own path instead.’

Dad reached across and squeezed my hand before changing gear with a crunch. The car juddered in protest.

‘I’m proud of you, Amy.’

‘Aren’t you disappointed that I’ve let you down again?’

Dad nearly stalled the vehicle as Mum answered loudly, ‘You could never disappoint us. And you should know that you’ve never let us or the rest of the family down. Never. All we’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy. I’m glad you’ve made the decision you have because it’s obviously the right decision for you, and I couldn’t be prouder. And I know the rest of the family will feel the same.’

She paused while my dad checked the traffic and turned right. Once she was sure he’d taken the correct route, she added, ‘Also, your sister told us about the snotty email they sent you about the audition and I agree with her. The organisation sounded like it’s led by a stuffy, domineering so-and-so. You’re definitely better off not being part of something like that.’

‘Thanks, you guys. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

‘You’d probably get to the Variety a whole lot quicker,’ said Mum with a laugh. ‘Let’s get a wiggle on. Bill, put your foot down. She’s got an opening night to orchestrate, and I for one am looking forward to an evening of excellent entertainment.’

Somehow, we made it to the theatre in one piece, and my parents dropped me round the corner so I could get to work while they went off in search of parking. I hurried down Rose Street, and then dived into the dingy alleyway which led to the Variety, my tension escalating. When I’d left for the audition, everyone had been in good spirits, assuring me that all was in hand, but what if something had gone wrong in my absence? It was one thing to absent myself for a couple of hours for a tangible outcome, but I’d abandoned my post and then turned down the opportunity presented to me.

I paused briefly to pull myself together and get my breath back. There was no point turning up in a fluster. And then I walked towards the theatre, trying to convey an air of calm.

It was the noise that hit me first as I approached, the dull rumble of lots of people talking and laughing. It was a sound which hadn’t been heard within the walls of the Edinburgh Variety for a very long time. Even though we hadn’t touched the lighting in the main entrance, it seemed brighter in there, as if the theatre itself was glowing in response to the happy chatter of the waiting audience members. I stopped in the foyer to soak it all in, relishing the sight of people clutching programmes and drinks, others queuing up hoping to get last-minute returns or book for another performance. The team in the box office and at the snack concession were clearly run off their feet, but although they were having to work at a faster rate than they had in months, they had big grins on their faces, delighting in the hubbub filling the building.

Leonie danced over to me, Malcolm following at a slightly steadier pace.

‘You did it. You really did it,’ she said gesturing at the crowd around us.

‘Wedid it. It was a group effort. I couldn’t have made it work without you guys.’

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