Page 39 of Crescendo

“If you don’t want to help, that’s fine,” Hannah said stiffly, obviously feeling embarrassed.

Lydia grinned widely. “I’d be delighted to listen.”

Hannah looked like her brain had gone offline, like she couldn’t really believetheLydia Howard Fox would be so happy to listen to her music, to help her out. Maybe even to believe in her.

I understood that feeling. Although, I figured there was a little more to it when the Lydia in question was wrapped around your body as she taught you how to play the cello.

She gestured Hannah to the chair by the window, and I was immensely relieved she hadn’t picked the couch. “Let’s give it a listen.”

“Well, it’s just on my phone, so the quality might not be great,” Hannah said.

I was surprised by how much stronger her accent was when she was nervous and not around Eliza. It felt like the first time I’d seen an interview with Jodie Comer after seeingKilling Eveand I’d realised she was actually Liverpudlian, not Russian.

“Not the first time I’ve listened to music on a phone,” Lydia pointed out kindly. It wasn’t hard to see why her friend Melinda had thought she’d make a great teacher at Crescendo. “I’m sure it’s going to sound great.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” The way Hannah stiffened, looked down, and fumbled her phone gave the impression she’d never received a compliment in her life. It tugged painfully at my chest.

“I do. Hit play,” Lydia said, sitting down on the couch and crossing her legs. She’d sat exactly where we’d just been, where I’d played the cello to urge her on, wanting her, needing her.

Of course that was where she’d chosen to sit.

Hannah sucked in a breath and hit play.

It was good. Not to the level of Lydia’s work, of course—even the stuff she claimed was bad—but it had personality, it was real and interesting, and it sounded like she cared.

When it ended, Hannah eyed Lydia nervously. “What do you think?”

“It’s good.” She smiled. “You know what you like, Hannah. And you shouldn’t let anyone get in the way of that.”

“But, Eliza’s right, isn’t she? They’ll be judging us on this first piece.”

“Just because she might be right about that—in part, maybe—doesn’t mean you weren’t right too.” She gesturedtowards the phone. “This is who you are, this is the kind of music you want to make. Don’t you want them to be teaching you from that benchmark?”

“But… what if that’s not what they want?”

“I’ve been in the business long enough to know there’s space for all kinds of composers, all kinds of music. What there isn’t space for, is people pretending to be something they’re not, people trying to compose music they don’t feel. Why do you think I’m here, huh? Haven’t I talked about that enough? Don’t tell me I’ve been talking and you’re not listening?”

Hannah looked up at her like a confused kid. But a confused kid who was getting a message she needed. Whether or not it would sink in, I had no idea, but, honestly, I was just enjoying watching Lydia be like this—encouraging, hoping to set someone free from the things that kept them trapped.

Still, I hoped the message landed.

Lydia stood up. “Music is about passion, Hannah. And, if your passion isthis, you owe it to yourself to put that out there. Even if it isn’t… technically perfect or whatever else you’re hearing you’re supposed to be.” She glanced at me and the electricity of her gaze set my body buzzing again. “Some of my favourite pieces I’ve heard recently are the ones that aren’t technically perfect. They’re the ones that made mefeelsomething.”

I almost moaned at her emphasis onfeel.

Hannah smiled to herself, nodding. “Well, thanks for… listening. I’m going to go now. Thanks, Lydia, Ella.”

I gulped and nodded. “The piece really is good.”

She smiled at me gratefully before practically fleeing from the room and for the front door.

For one, wild, blissful second I thought we’d pick up from where we’d been before Hannah’s intrusion. I stepped towards Lydia and watched the way her face transformed. The hungrylook shot straight into my core, spiking my heart rate and hitching my breath. I’d have been embarrassed if Lydia hadn’t looked equally turned on.

But, the quick sound of the door latching that I was waiting for didn’t come.

“Oh, Hannah,” Bansi’s surprised voice called and he laughed. “Did I get the wrong apartment? I don’t know how I could have.”

“Oh. No. I just came to… deliver a message,” she said, sounding much more threatening than I think she’d been aiming for. “They’re in the music room.”

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