Page 57 of The Mission

Three brought to life by oneRurik looked at Conrad.

A cameraman and an assistant had been sent to each of the finalists’ homes, ready to capture cries of joy or tears of disappointment. Arlo assumed not much of the latter would be shown. Rurik had managed to persuade the company to make a donation to the charity the four of them had chosen, so even if they didn’t win, the charity wouldn’t lose out. It seemed a bit mean that one charity would get it all and when Arlo had spoken to the production company, they’d agreed that the other eleven charities would be given something.

Julian’s wife had made both videos. The one that would be shown tonight had been set in a rundown area of East London where quite a crowd had gathered to watch them—and they’d danced as the four of them had performed. Melanie had a guy with her who’d used a drone to film them too. Though the actual music they’d hear tonight had been recorded in a studio arranged by the TV company who’d also paid the royalty fees for using another artist’s music. The winner won a hundred thousand pounds for the charity of their choice.

Arlo had wondered if Rurik would have time to rehearse but his brother turned out to be just as keen as the rest of them, if not keener. Well, maybe not as keen as Arlo and Conrad. God, he was an amazing cellist!It felt as if Conrad hardly had to make any effort to be brilliant, though Arlo knew that wasn’t true. Arlo could go hard just listening to him. Conrad was wasted in accountancy, but every time he said that in the hearing of his brother, he got a Rurik killer-glare. Arlo loved his cello but the relationship Conrad had with his was…something else.

“It’s starting,” his mother said.

Only the four of them and Melanie had seen the finished film. After tonight, the video would go online. Three Plus One might not make much from that, but when they uploaded their own stuff, someone might spot them and offer them a recording contract. Though Arlo had kept his thoughts about that to himself because he sort of knew Rurik wouldn’t do more of this.

“She’s good,” Conrad said.

Arlo tuned back in to the woman who was singing. Shewasgood.Damn it.

All the acts were good, and aware the cameramightbe recording them even now, they were complimentary about everyone. A young man singing Puccini had an amazing voice, a pianist who played and sang a composition of his own brought a lump to Arlo’s throat with the lyrics about loneliness and loss, though he thought they’d have been better picking something more upbeat. Like the fabulous Gospel choir that had everyone enthralled, but there were no other instrumental groups like them.

“You’re up next,” said Arlo’s father.

Conrad gripped Arlo’s hand more tightly.

The four of them were in white shirts, sleeves rolled up, and black trousers. Melanie had done such a good job with the video too. She’d got permission to use the drone over London and had shots of Canary Wharf in there. The drone filmed from high above the city, then dropped down to street level. They played in a line, Conrad at one end, his hair longer than he usually had it and floppy, Arlo next to him, then Julian with Rurik at the other end. The piece they’d chosen was Coldplay’sLa Vida Locawith Conrad’s cello as Chris Martin’svoice.They’d played it so many times it was a miracle that any of them could bear to hear it again, but Arlo found his foot tapping next to Conrad’s.

Watching and hearing Conrad play always gave him goose bumps. There was an energy and vibrancy about him that set every one of Arlo’s nerve endings tingling. The way he bowed, his intensity, the way he embraced the cello, the sound he seduced from it… He was mesmerising to watch. There were even sections with the crowd dancing, but most of the video was of the four of them, each of them in their own world with their instrument but still joined in some sort of magic harmony, captured by the camera in the way they looked at each other, played to each other.

One by one, all but Conrad stopped playing, then he bowed the last few notes, the sound dying away as his head dropped.

The room was silent for a moment, then everyone started to chatter at once. Arlo didn’t care if they didn’t win. Seeing themselves on the TV had been everything.

“We were good, weren’t we?” Conrad’s face was alight with pleasure.

“Not bad. I played an E and not a G at one point.”

Conradtsked. “You were note perfect.”

“It will be a travesty if you don’t win,” said Arlo’s mother.

Though the next act was a nine-year-old girl who had the most amazing soprano voice. How could you pick between any of them? It was viewers who’d vote and Arlo’s cabin crew had been telling everyone on board the planes he’d flown over the last few weeks, to vote for him.

“Okay?” Melanie asked.

Arlo and Conrad both gave her a hug.

“You did a brilliant job,” Conrad said. “Made us look amazing. Thank you. The setting was perfect. They’ll think we organised those people and got them to dance and we didn’t.” He gulped. “You didn’t, did you?”

“No. Totally spontaneous. I think people respond to music that makes them want to move. The song is just brilliant for that. I know there might have been better pieces to play, but it’s always good to go with something most of the audience will recognise.”

They had to wait another fifty minutes before the results were announced. They showed the acts live on a split screen, four at a time, not them the first time, and then three were blanked out. Arlo’s throat closed up when they saw themselves on the TV in the next group. When their image remained when the other three went blank, they all shouted and hugged each other. A final act was selected from the last four. Three Plus One were in the final three.

Everyone in the room was silent.

Please, please, pleaseArlo begged.

“In third place is…” said Dig.

Why did they have to drag it out so long?

“The Southern Gospel Choir,” Jonah shouted.

---