Page 64 of Crescendo

Ella

Call me when you get this!

Because that wasn’t ominous or terrifying.

I clutched my phone tightly, telling the others to go ahead and I’d catch them up in a moment.

Dodge laughed. “Trying to avoid attention now isn’t going to stop us celebrating you this afternoon.”

Ordinarily, I’d respond, but Lydia had sent me the world’s most menacing message, at four in the morning her time—and she’d done it when just talking to her again was simultaneously a heartbreak and a lifeline.

I ducked out of the crowd and into one of the practice rooms, realising only as I hit dial which room I’d picked. Lydia. A stolen moment. This room.

Ugh. This whole thing was impossible. But at least she was speaking to me.

“Are you okay?” I practically yelled down the phone the second she answered, not even waiting for a greeting. “Did something happen? Are you hurt?”

She laughed in surprise. “Hurt? I don’t think calling someone halfway across the world would be the most sensible option if I were hurt.”

My brain stalled. That was… logical.

“I can understand why you wouldn’t expect sensible from me, though,” she said, and I could hear the smile in her voice. I’d missed it so much.

“Well, yeah, it’s like… four fifteen for you.”

“I’m back in the US now, darling, and we don’t use twenty-four hour time, so four fifteen could be an entirely sensible time.”

My breathing stalled. Darling. She’d done it without thinking, naturally, and I didn’t know whether that was good or bad—better or worse than her not doing it.

Better. So much better. And so much worse, because what were we doing? We were trying to be friends, but I melted every time we spoke, at every note of music Lydia sent, at every tiny slip that took us back to being in the same place, and that wasn’t friend behaviour.

Lydia cleared her throat like my silence alerted her to what she’d said and what it meant—or didn’t mean.

“Um, so, sorry, why are you calling?” I asked, pushing past any attempts Lydia might make to walk her darling back. I didn’t want to hear that.

She let out a breath. “You called me.”

“What? Oh. Ha. Okay. Why am I calling you at four in the morning?”

“Well,” she said, drawing the world out, “I’ve been working on this score…”

“Right?”

“The main piece, that throne scene, has been missing something—the director’s kind of a dick for no reason a lot of the time, but, in this case, it did need something really different.”

“Like you learning rock from Hannah and Dodge.”

“Exactly! And Hannah has this song with these… ruinous lyrics—”

I breathed a laugh. “That you think would be perfect for your something different. ”

“See? You’re a composer, you get it.”

“I haven’t even watched the scene, Lydia. I just know you.” My chest ached.

“You’re a composer because you know I wouldn’t suggest putting… bubblegum pop over a scene like that.”

She loved bubblegum pop, but she was right, I’d heard enough of her conversation with Natália about the film to know it didn’t need that in its pivotal scene.

I furrowed my brow. “Are you calling me to ask me to ask Hannah to work with you?”

My heart pounded painfully, hoping it wasn’t just that.

“Oh, no. I already told Adam he’s my messenger.”

I laughed. “You’re friends with Hannah. You couldn’t ask her yourself?”

“Of course not. The piece is amazing, but it’s incomplete—even outside of working it into what we’ve already got.”

“Lydia, you’re the best composer in the world—”

“I know, right?” she laughed.

“—I’m sure you and Hannah would be able to make it perfect together.”

“Ah. No. I need Eliza, too.”

I scrunched my face up, amused and confused. “Okay?”

“She and Hannah are together now—thanks, I hear, in no small part to you.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Liar.” She laughed again. “But, the piece was about Eliza, and it will be a million times better when it’s the two of them, when they’re bouncing off each other.”

“Oh.” I nodded, finally getting it. “So, you needed Adam to help sell Eliza on it because you still think she hates you.”

“No. I know she loves me. It’s just more… professional and, well, yes, it’s easier this way.”

I bit my lip, thinking about how she must have been gesticulating.

She sounded alive, if a little exhausted, which was to be expected given that she was still up at this time.

I got that, though, sleep didn’t come easy.

Working through to exhaustion was easier.

God knew I’d done that more than enough times over the last four years—over the last few days.

I finally sank down onto the piano bench—the one we’d been together on. “They’re getting their big break with rock,” I whispered.

“They are if they say yes.”

“Hannah’s going to be so happy,” I said, finding myself tearing up.

That happened a lot around Lydia, and there was something bittersweet in seeing her give our friends this gift.

I was so happy for them both—and so happy for Lydia—but my heart cracked, wondering whether we’d ever get that. Our names together, in music, in life.

“I’m kind of counting on that,” Lydia said. “The piece is ridiculously sad, but being happy with Eliza is going to make it ten times better… Turns out, some people find their best inspiration with the ones they love.”

I couldn’t breathe. I was suffocating on the feeling of loving her, wanting her.

There was a charged, desperate silence between us until she murmured, “I just had to tell you. I wanted you to hear it from me, I wanted to talk to you about it, and…”

And what?

And everything , maybe.

“I’m really glad you called,” I said, my voice thick with emotion again.

“I didn’t,” she laughed, sounding teary too. “You called me.”

“Oh, my god, Lydia.”

“That’s my name. Don’t go forgetting it.”

“I won’t.” Not now, not ever. “And I can’t wait to hear what you, Hannah, and Eliza come up with. I know it’s going to be incredible.”

“I couldn’t have done any of it without you.” She paused and cleared her throat. “But I should let you go or you won’t have time for lunch, and there’s a big announcement coming this afternoon.”

“I’ll send Eliza your congratulations, shall I?” I swiped at my eyes, forcing a teasing, upbeat tone into my voice.

“Ella,” she half growled. “You’re going to win and then you’ll have to call me and eat your words.”

“I don’t know about that. I hear Eliza’s working with world-class composer Lydia Howard Fox. Seems like she’s kind of a big deal.”

“You did that first. And Lydia Howard Fox wouldn’t have a score to enquire about without you, so it sounds like you're the name to beat.”

“You haven’t even heard Eliza’s piece.”

“I’ve heard yours.”

My insides burned. She’d liked the piece. Did she know it was for her? Did she know the new one I’d sent was too? Something free, a feeling she’d given back to me after so long, even if I hadn’t fully figured it out yet.

“And,” she continued pointedly, sounding more energetic again, “you’d better text me the second you find out you’ve won.”

I laughed and shook my head, standing up again. “That’s not going to happen, but I appreciate the support.”

She argued again but I was hung up on something. She’d given me so much, and, no matter what anyone said, I still thought Eliza would win. She deserved it. She was a real composer, and this whole thing was her dream coming true—with Hannah right there by her side.

“Lydia?” I said quietly. “I’m glad you found what you needed at Crescendo.”

“Thank you…” I could hear the question. Maybe a little regret, too, but that was probably wishful thinking that she was feeling the same way I was.

“And, I still don’t think I’m winning, but, I wanted to tell you, that I want to. I care enough about it to want to win.”

She blew out a breath like she understood fully what I was trying to say—that she’d brought me back, that Crescendo had too, that I wasn’t just floating through life and trying not to care anymore. “You deserve to win, Ella. Text me when you do.”

I laughed, reluctantly agreed, and said goodbye to her before rushing out to join the others for lunch and head back to hear the winner.

As promised, Eliza dropped into the seat beside me to hear the results. This time, however, Hannah was right by her side, still looking a little shy but happy as she brushed her hand over Eliza’s.

Clara, Dodge, and Bansi sat on my other side.

Lydia was the only one missing—but she was the one I wanted there the most. If I lost, it wouldn’t have mattered because we’d go home and play music together, and everything would be fine.

And, if I really did win… I didn’t know how to do that without her.

Sure, I’d won things without her before, but the Royal Albert Hall? Composing? It felt wrong without her.

“Ready to claim your crown?” Eliza asked, nudging me with her free arm.

“No.” I rolled my eyes and shot her a look. “But I’m excited to celebrate you.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Every bit as stubborn as—” Hannah shot me a look and broke off, clearly not sure if we were in a place to joke about that stuff yet. There were worse things in the world than being like Lydia, though. Maybe if we were alike, that was just me holding onto her, and I didn’t mind that.

“You’re rooting for Eliza,” I told her, laughing. “What difference does it make to you?”

“Oh, sorry for being in my girlfriend’s corner.” She had a pouty expression but the effect of it was somewhat undermined by the bright red blush and the obvious bursting pride she was feeling at getting to call Eliza her girlfriend.

The rest of us smiled and laughed, nobody missing the adorable moment between them, but our attention turned to the front of the room as Lorna took the stage again.