Page 23 of Crescendo

The group started moving and Adam quickly told Lydia to message him so they could hang out while she was in town. Despite her protestations that the programme was packed and she didn’t know if she’d have time between that and trying toturn me into a composing genius, he shook my hand, smiled warmly, and said, “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon. And I look forward to hearing how your quest to musical genius is going.”

“Oh,” I said, floundering, “I won’t be—”

Lydia grabbed my hand as I gesticulated and pulled me after the rest of the group. “Yes, you will. Come on. Let’s go. Lots to see, afternoon tea to drink, classmates to frustrate with our incredible skills.”

“Yourincredible skills. I’m still new to all of this.”

She shot me a look. “You really need to get on my level here. Eliza sees you as competition and I’m determined that you’re going to best her. It’ll be great.”

“No. She sees me as an annoyance because I’m… monopolising your attention.”

Lydia laughed. “You know, not the first time I’ve had someone giving me the kind of attention she is.”

“Does that explain why you’re so calm about it?”

“No. That’s just me. I’m charming like that.”

I cleared my throat. She was charming. It was… a little mesmerising. She was like a centre of gravity, one that was impossible to pull away from. Not that I was particularly trying to.

“But hey, it works in our favour,” she told me conspiratorially.

“How so?”

“Because, while she’s distracted trying to get my attention, you’re busy learning and practicing.” She hesitated very slightly. “And getting over whatever that mental block you’ve got is.”

There it was again. The implied question.

It wasn’t fair that I hadn’t explained it to her, not when she was living with it—between me staring at instruments and shutting down when she gave me lessons. But I didn’t knowhow to explain it. I’d spent so long trying to get distance from Callum’s death, focusing only on work, that, even now that I was trying to deal with it, I still didn’t really know how.

The whole thing, even in my head, felt like it didn’t make sense. How did you tell someone that you pulled away from music—and life—because your brother died, that you signed up for a music class because you knew it was time to start honouring him and yourself in life, but, once it was real, there was something terrifying about actually learning or growing? How did you even begin to verbalise the feeling that changing anything felt like losing him all over again?

Even if I figured that out, this wouldn’t be the time or the place for it. I’d learned in the past four years that people didn’t want to talk about death and grief, not really. They wanted you to be okay, to gloss over it, move on, pretend everything was fine and it wasn’t a part of every single thing you did. It was not something people you’d just met wanted to know. And it definitely wasn’t what they wanted to know in the middle of a tour of London.

I shook my head—whether for her or for me, I wasn’t sure. “Come on. We’re falling behind. And you know Eliza would be both devastated and over the moon if you weren’t around for her to… moon over.”

She laughed, the remnants of a tiny, frustrated little furrow still on her face. Trying to figure out my nonsense, no doubt.

She should stop trying. It would be better for her that way.

“Mooning over me?” she asked. “Is that what you think she’s doing?”

“Don’t you? You score films. Are you really going to tell me you haven’t seen this type of thing over and over again? The girl who’s kind of mean because she’s insecure and into you?”

“Ooh, she’d hate to hear you describe her like that.”

“It’s not like I’d say it to her face.”

“You should. It would be hot.”

“Uh—” My brain went offline. It had been a long time since anyone had said that to me. I’d had patients try to flirt with me, but they tried that with everyone. They were in a bad place, looking for something to lift their spirits. And they weren’t quite as blunt or matter of fact as Lydia.

We rejoined the group outside the building and she leaned into my side, which wasn’t helping given her comments. “What do you think that piece would sound like?”

“Which one?” I asked, foolishly.

Her eyes danced as she looked at me. “The one where the mean girl ismooningover someone she’s interested in as they flirt with someone else?”

It was just a scenario. From a film. She wasnotsaying she was flirting with me. Still, how she didn’t realise that it could be interpreted that way was playing havoc with my insides.

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