Page 51 of Crescendo

I laughed. “It’s Hertfordshire, yeah… But, we don’t live in one of the, uh, bigger homes. It’s a terrace Papa inherited from my grandparents.”

“I didn’t realise you were old money like Clara.”

“Definitely not like Clara.”

She laughed and we kept moving. The curious, confused, slightly sad look in her eyes played in my mind, tangling with the complicated feelings of being back here.

The week stay I’d had right before starting Crescendo had helped, but, after four years of avoiding this place as much as possible, it still felt weird.

Maybe it always would. This had been our home.

Every place I saw was filled with Callum.

It helped having Lydia here, even if the energy between us was complicated and avoidant.

Maybe four years of avoiding everything just made me that kind of person.

We made it to the door—familiar, always—and I knocked, which was an interesting choice, but I was all over the place so it was what it was. Lydia shot me a questioning look, perhaps wondering whether we weren’t heading to my dads’ house after all. I couldn’t blame her.

The pale, cottage-style door swung open and I watched the questioning smile on Papa’s face morph into delighted surprise. “Ella! What are you doing here, darling? Why did you knock?”

I laughed, shrugging. “Just… felt like the thing to do.”

“At your own house? Get in here.” He stepped aside, flinging the door open and flourishing his arm. “And you must be Lydia?”

Dad emerged from the kitchen as we stepped through the door and into the small living room. “Ay up, trouble’s here.” He grinned, but I could see the concern in his eyes before they flitted to Lydia too.

She laughed. “You… aren’t what I expected.”

Dad raised his eyebrows. “What were you expecting?”

“A posher accent.” She turned to Papa. “Shorter. More gnome-like. The sequins are a great look, though.”

Papa’s eyes lit up and he placed a hand on Lydia’s back. “Oh, goodness. Come see our little collection,” he said, sweeping her off towards the back door.

I waved my hands. “Thanks, Papa, nice to see you and meet the gnomes.”

Dad laughed and came over to give me a hug—comforting, bone-crushing, and exactly what I needed. “How are you doing, baby girl?”

I sighed into his chest. “Okay. Things feel… complicated at the minute, but that’s okay.”

“Honestly, I’m just glad they feel something .” He said, and I breathed him in, concentrating on the soft Yorkshire parts of his accent that he’d never lost. “Even if you brought an American home who thinks I’m not posh enough. I don’t know if my ego will ever recover.”

I laughed, hugging him tighter. Neither of my dads had ever been the first to let go and I’d never appreciated it more. “Somehow, I think you’ll be okay.” I paused, thinking of Eliza. “Hey, Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“Was it hard? Keeping your accent?”

He chuckled—a proper dad chuckle that felt safe and warm and like home.

It made my eyes burn with the flash of a memory of Callum on his knee in this very room as Dad laughed like that.

“A bit. People tend to adapt to the accents they hear every day—and, let’s be honest, mine has changed over the years, so, yeah. ”

“Did you…” I sighed and finally stepped back, looking up at him. “Did you ever feel like you had to change it?”

He studied me. “To fit in?”

“Yeah.”

“Mm. Sometimes. People have expectations of certain accents. Not all of them are nice. That was part of what made me more eager to keep hold of mine, though.” He smiled. “But I wasn’t too upset when you and Cal lost the bits you’d picked up from me as you aged.”

“Water,” I breathed, eyes filling with tears. “Callum said it like he was from Yorkshire until he was about twenty.”

He laughed. “A huge source of regional pride for me.” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you worried about Lydia’s accent? Has somebody said something?”

I shook my head. “No, no. Another friend—” I guessed we were friends now “—is Liverpudlian and we were talking the other day, is all.”

“Ah,” he sighed, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and leading us to the kitchen. “Yeah, it can be rough sometimes. I guess I’m not surprised it wasn’t Lydia. From everything you’ve said, she seems like a firecracker.”

I laughed, the sound a little sadder than I was aiming for. “She really is.”

We stepped into the small kitchen, and the sight of Lydia, leaning against the soft green cabinets, talking animatedly with Papa was doing things to my mind and my heart. Nothing about her was tiny English cottage , and yet, she felt perfect here.

“We’ve really been loving working our way through your back catalogue,” Papa was telling her, and I scrunched my face up at the implication I’d spoken about her so much that my parents felt the need to rewatch everything she’d ever scored.

“I was so surprised to learn it was you who’d done Purple as the Night .

Tom and I have watched that a million times over the years. ”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “That wasn’t one of my best. Early in my career.”

“I think it’s stunning.” He hummed part of the melody from the theme tune, his eyes closing as he got lost in it. He’d always felt so… connected to music. “And, hey, if that was you early in your career, it’s no wonder you’re such an incredible composer now.”

Lydia laughed. “Compliment me more.”

Dad laughed too, squeezing me into his side and resting his cheek against the top of my head. “I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time for that later, but, for now, do you two girls want anything to eat? We need to get going soon so we’re not late for the pub.”

“Is it far?” Lydia asked, and I couldn’t tell if Papa had told her what tonight was or whether she was just happy to go with the flow.

“Oh, yes,” he said. “A massive trek.”

I laughed, rolling my eyes, and moving to raid the fridge for some quick snacks for the two of us.

We ate and freshened up, Papa shooting me knowing looks and taking the very first opportunity when Lydia ran to the loo to tell me he adored her.

As if that hadn’t been abundantly clear already—especially when she talked readily with him about everything from music composition to how Atlas the gnome had settled in with us.

She looked at me, something warm and slightly overcome with emotion in her eyes, when my dads swept us out of the house and in the direction of the pub. “We’re not taking the car? They said it was far away.”

I laughed and slipped my hand into hers, not even considering whether that was a wise thing to do in front of my dads. “They like a laugh.”

She grinned. “Well, they’re fantastic.”

“You just like them because they give you loads of compliments.”

“Are you saying I don’t deserve them?”

“Not at all.”

“Good.” She pressed a quick kiss to my temple and I didn’t miss the way Papa positively glowed when he turned in time to catch it.

“Also, they’re your dads, and you’re sharing them with me, sharing this part of your life with me.

That’s… not nothing.” She shuddered. “Ugh. It’s almost enough to make me forget my lousy best friend is sleeping with my literal daughter. ”

“Lydia! She’s not your literal daughter. Don’t say that! And, you know, she is an adult.”

“Pfft. Barely. She’s basically a toddler.”

“She’s definitely not.” I stopped and grinned. “Also, we’re here.”

She blinked and looked up at the pub. “It’s across the street.”

“Mm. Yes. I told you they liked a joke.”

“Unbelievable.” She shook her head, laughing. “Also, is your dad some kind of game show host here? What’s with the sequined suit?”

“Oh, you’ll see.”

“You’re just all about the mystery tonight, aren’t you?”

I smiled, nodded, and led her into the cosy pub. It was odd how far away Crescendo and her leaving felt while we were out here. Like all of that was another life entirely and she wasn’t leaving at all.

Dad ordered drinks while Papa sat with us and grilled Lydia on how I’d been doing in the programme. She was unnecessarily complimentary and I had to insist I wasn’t as good as she was making out.

“Yes, she is. Even better than that. She’s a musical genius,” Lydia said, waving me off.

Papa reached his hands up to cup my cheeks like I was still five years old. “She always was. Her and Callum both. It was such a gift to be blessed with two children who loved and understood music the way I always had.”

A couple of rogue tears leaked from my eyes and he wiped them away with his warm thumbs, holding my gaze so intensely.

Lydia took my hand under the table as she said, “She took me to the pub in Brixton Callum played at.”

Papa’s eyes filled with tears too—at the memory, but also, I was pretty sure, with pride that I’d made it back there.

He swallowed and glanced at Lydia. “You should have heard them together on their clarinets. In the orchestra, they played beautifully together. At home, it was like they were arguing in woodwind. Both of them trying to be better, louder, faster—”

“Hey,” I protested weakly, “Callum was the one who always tried to go louder.”

Lydia laughed. “Oh, you just wanted to be better and faster.”

“Um. Yes.”

They both laughed and Papa finally dropped his hands as Dad rejoined us. They shared a glance before Papa looked at me and asked Lydia, “Have you heard her on the clarinet?”

I choked on the air. He wasn’t just asking if I’d played it for her. He was asking if I’d figured out how to play it at all again.

Lydia squeezed my hand tighter. “Not yet. But I’ve heard her on piano, cello, a whole bunch of other instruments, and she’s a real talent.

It’s actually annoying how no matter which instrument I throw at her, she just picks it up and plays like she was made for it.

” She looked at me. “If I didn’t love hearing her play so much, I’d be desperately jealous. ”

Dad smiled at her. “Oh, well, I’m sure she’s feeling the same way about you. We know how great a musician you are.”

Papa lit up. “Speaking of which.”