Page 10 of Crescendo

Ella

It wasn’t like I’d never been to the Royal Albert Hall before but there was something different about taking a tour of it with a bunch of musicians and composers.

They were friendly enough with Olivia and the other liaisons that it was clearly something they did for every class, but, as we walked around the building, hearing facts and seeing angles audiences usually didn’t, it felt like we were the first group to ever grace its floorboards.

Nonsense, of course, but theatres were just engrossing like that.

And I wasn’t even the most mesmerised member of the group.

Eliza had said over breakfast that her goal was to get a piece played on its hallowed stage, and you could see it in her eyes as we moved around the building.

She tried hard to keep it locked down, but even her confident bravado couldn’t cover up the childlike wonder.

This really was something she cared about.

Which probably explained why she was being nasty, particularly to Lydia.

It was no excuse, of course, but I’d seen it time and time again—the ways people struggled to handle big emotions and took them out on those around them.

In an ideal world, we’d all know how to handle and process our emotions, but we were messy, imperfect beings.

And, well, I was hardly one to talk about the ways people handled their emotions.

We walked across the stage and I kept close to Lydia’s side.

It was odd, honestly, how she felt like a safety blanket against any stage fright being there gave me.

We’d only just met and, even more ridiculously, she was a massive star.

One who belonged on stages like this, who’d undoubtedly performed on a million stages.

Standing next to the star should have brought more attention and scrutiny, and maybe it did, but there was also a piece of it that hid me.

There was never going to be any outshining Lydia Howard Fox—no matter what Eliza said about her losing her touch or wanting to be bigger than her.

“How does it make you feel?” Lydia asked as we paused, looking up at the rows of seats.

My heart pounded in my chest, my stomach twisting in on itself like a wet cloth being wrung out. “Tiny. Terrified.”

“You’re not tiny,” she said, smiling up at the empty seats. “Even on a stage like this.”

“Objectively, I am.”

She laughed. “You need to make your personality big enough to fill the space. Like I do.”

“As if it’s just that easy.”

“You’re a doctor. Isn’t it?”

I breathed a laugh. “Interestingly, they don’t make me treat patients on stage. I don’t think that would be particularly hygienic.”

“Oh my god. Ella,” she laughed, rolling her eyes.

I’d never before noticed how different my name sounded in an American accent. Hers wasn’t particularly strong or regional, but still, for just four letters, it sounded awfully different. Maybe it was just her.

She stepped away, flinging her arms out, and spinning in a circle. “Take up space. Enjoy it.”

“I don’t know if your recent work really deserves to take up space in here,” Eliza shot, her tone not quite as acerbic as with some of her previous barbs. I assumed even she couldn’t muster that level of bite when she was emotionally overwhelmed.

Lydia grinned. “You really do spend a lot of time thinking about my work, don’t you, Lizzy? Just got my whole back catalogue playing on loop in your mind all day?”

“Ew. As if.”

“You’ve clearly listened to it, and, if it’s always the first thing you think of, I think we can all tell what’s going on.”

Clara and Dodge laughed, while Bansi made a sweet comment about how he’d love Lydia to score his life, and Eliza simply rolled her eyes and wandered off to the side, dragging Hannah with her.

“I don’t know how you do that,” I murmured.

Lydia shot me a questioning look. “Do what?”

“ That. Just… all of that.”

She laughed like she still wasn’t quite sure what I meant, and moved to grab my wrists. “Here. Arms out.”

I was powerless to resist, even as I felt a little foolish and undeserving—and, then, dizzy as she spun the two of us around.

Her hands, staying wrapped tight around my wrists, felt warm and grounding, even as the lights and the seats and the stage blurred into an uncomfortable mess that was more emotional than it had any right to be.

When we stopped spinning, my legs felt wobbly and I gripped Lydia’s upper arms to steady myself. Her smile was wide and bright, amused by my weak balance, I was sure, and her eyes sparkled under the stage lights like they belonged there. She belonged there.

Her arms wrapped around my back, holding me steady, and, suddenly, all that existed was her and the spinning.

“See, it’s fun up here,” she said, her voice close and quiet, her gaze holding mine. “You don’t even have to tell me I’m right. I already know it.”

I laughed breathlessly. “When don’t you know it?”

“Never.”

“That’s what I thought.” I nodded and immediately clamped my eyes shut against the new wave of dizziness.

“Easy there.”

“Sorry. It’s been a long time since I was spinning around like that.”

“You know,” Eliza’s voice said, cutting in again, “it’s a little desperate coming to this programme just to throw yourself at Lydia Howard Fox.”

I felt myself blush furiously as I tried to step quickly away. Lydia didn’t let me.

I hadn’t even been trying anything. I was just dizzy.

“There we go with the full name again,” she said, shooting Eliza a look. “You don’t need to be jealous of other people flirting with me. We all know you want to flirt with me too.”

“I do not.”

“Sure you do. Don’t worry, you’re only human.”

Eliza groaned. “I’m going to kill you before this thing is over.”

Lydia laughed. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

“You’re so annoying,” she said, stalking away again—further this time.

I had a feeling she’d be back, though, and not just because we were basically contractually obliged to spend all of this time together, but also because she didn’t seem to be able to stay away.

“I’m, er, good,” I said, pressing backwards against Lydia’s grip until she let me go.

She looked me over and nodded. “Now you look suitably invigorated. Not so bad taking up the stage, is it?”

I shot her an incredulous look. “I don’t think I’m the kind of person suited to the stage.”

“I’m never wrong. I say you are. And I’m making it my mission to get you to realise it too.”

“Lydia, I don’t think that’s how any of that works. You can’t just… make me realise something like that.”

“Sure I can. Are you underestimating me? Me ? Really?”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that. What could anyone say to that? Nothing that Lydia would be interested in hearing or actually listening to.

I glanced to where our group was being led off the stage. “Come on. That’s enough stage for one day.”

“But not for one life. We’ll be back.” She nudged me as we walked, falling in behind Bansi and a young Spanish guy he was talking to. “Maybe I’ll add ‘get your piece performed at the Royal Albert Hall before Eliza does’ to your list of accomplishments.”

“Oh, god. Please don’t. That’s not something that’s ever going to happen, and I don’t want Eliza to think I’m trying to compete with her.”

“You are competing with her.”

“In your mind.”

“In everyone’s mind. And you’re going to win. Trust me.”

“I really, really don’t.”

“Well, you should.” She shot me a look and I held her gaze for a fraction too long in the dull light of the wings. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t want your piece performed here?”

My throat constricted uncomfortably. How was I supposed to answer that?

Wouldn’t everyone love to be good enough that they got to play or be performed at the Royal Albert Hall?

Wasn’t I supposed to want that desperately?

Didn’t I sign up for this class so I could learn the things I needed to know to get to that point?

But something about it felt wrong. And it wasn’t just stage fright.

There was no fright to have when you weren’t the one on the stage.

No, it was the same thing that shut me down at the piano last night.

The same thing that had me staring down a clarinet, feeling like even putting it together was too much.

Maybe I hadn’t been ready for this class. Maybe I was going to fail it because I couldn’t actually handle any of this.

“Ella?” Lydia prompted, right before we stepped out into the bright hallway again.

“Oh. Sorry.”

I wasn’t sure what I was planning to say, if I’d had anything to say, but, luckily, we didn’t have to find out.

As I blinked against the light, someone called Lydia’s name.

“Well, well, well,” he said, approaching. “What the devil are you doing here? I thought we had to come to you in LA, not vice versa?”

Lydia laughed as the man stopped in front of her. He was tall, slim, and with an unmistakably British style.

The serious woman walking alongside him even smiled warmly at Lydia.

“Adam! Long time no see. Are you organizing the event at the RAH tonight?” Lydia asked excitedly.

Adam laughed. “No, no. I’m still only on programme coordination. Altman has a big show tonight, and she won’t let anybody meddle with her magnum opus,” he said, in a tone that implied he wasn’t yet allowed to reveal details of the event.

“They don’t let just anyone play here,” Eliza muttered to Hannah, more than loud enough for the rest of us to hear.

How she didn’t die from embarrassment sometimes, I didn’t know. Even just the secondhand embarrassment had me hoping the floor would open up and swallow me whole.

Lydia shot her a look. “Don’t mind Lizzy, she’s still learning basic manners and beginner music. I’m sure your work is a little too advanced for her.”

Adam, clearly knowing Lydia more than well enough to pick up on what was happening, nodded, amused, before glancing at Eliza. “Well, I’m sure you’ll get there.”