Page 17 of Pervade London
I couldn’t think of anyone other than Xander who would have given me something so priceless. I’d lost my only chance of contacting him and as my consolation prize I’d received the most incredible gift. Though I still wasn’t sure keeping it was an option. Falling in love with a violin this remarkable was a bad idea.
As though part of me wasn’t willing to let Xander go, I returned to the place I’d met him.
Beneath the low ceiling of Piccadilly Circus’s Tube station, in the same spot I’d played the night I’d met him, I removed the Strad from its case. I made a wish that music would draw him back to me.
The notes echoed with extraordinary beauty. It was a musician’s dream, holding an instrument of this quality and history. I was in awe.
It was easy to forget where I was as my soul became one with the violin. I played my heart out for Xander, savoring each note as I recalled every second spent in his company.
Although I imagined him listening to me amongst the crowd, I never saw him.
Closing my eyes, I embraced this instrument that had already stolen a piece of my heart.
The heaviness in my chest made me feel like I’d lost a friend. Of course, there was no logic to this emotional connection, and no reasonable argument why I should suffer this way. I just did.
Six Months Ago
Three nights after meeting Xander, I went back to the Tube station at Piccadilly Circus and reclaimed the exact spot in the ticket area.
I was here to play for him…and him alone.
I still wore my music school clothes—a short tartan skirt, thigh-high tights and flat shoes. I’d not even stopped off at home to change first.
The commuters passing by had no idea they were listening to a two-century old violin. I’d not been brave enough to take this instrument into class at the Academy yet. Girls like me didn’t turn up with one of these without arousing suspicion.
I lowered my instrument to my side to take a break, watching the pedestrians flow by. At this time of day, I’d have better luck playing in Covent Garden. But I’d have less chance of seeing Xander.
It was a ridiculous hope, but I clung to it.
A tall man with graying temples stopped in front of me to throw a five-pound note into my case. I gave a bow of thanks and watched him walk away.
I glanced out into the stream of human traffic and glimpsed a familiar face.
Xander.
My heart skipped a beat, and then began to race.
He stood amongst the meandering crowd. Gone were his rumpled clothes. He wore what looked like designer jeans and a black blazer over a nice shirt. A scarf was wrapped around his neck in the sophisticated European style. His looks were more astonishing than I remembered.
The rush of excitement I was feeling suddenly turned into panic.
Xander had turned away and was heading through the turnstile. I watched, dismayed, as he stepped onto a descending escalator, disappearing from view.
Quickly, with trembling hands, I knelt to put my Strad and bow away.
Holding the handle of the case with a tight grip, I rushed toward the escalator that would take me into the heart of the Tube station. I leapt onto the moving escalator, my heart pounding over the fear I was close to losing him.
Xander stepped off the escalator and turned sharply into a tunnel leading to a platform.
I ran beneath the same arch until I made it onto the platform, drawing in sharp breaths when I saw him hop onto a waiting carriage, the doors beginning to close.
I bolted forwards, sprinting through the doors directly in front of me. Even though I’d not be on his carriage, I’d make his train.
Holding onto the handrail and balancing the violin case with my other hand, I felt the Tube rock beneath my feet as it headed down the track. It was soon swallowed up by a tunnel, plunging us into darkness.
When the lights flickered back on, I hurried down the center aisle, peering through the glass divider into Xander’s carriage.
As though sensing my stare, he turned his head and looked at me.
