Page 68 of Crescendo

Between that and the anxious excitement bubbling through every part of my body, I felt like I needed to run a race when we finally touched down in Heathrow.

London felt like it was something out of another lifetime, and I laughed thickly when I stepped into the arrivals gate and found Olivia Gould waiting for me, wearing a neat burgundy suit with a patterned neckerchief and, best of all, pump heels covered with colorful sequins arranged in rainbow stripes.

“Well, look who decided to come crawling back to London, then,” she said as I pushed through the crowds toward her.

“What’s this? Did Adam send you, or did you hear about me coming and couldn’t bear the thought of missing me one more second?”

She laughed pointedly. “Adam had to push quite a bit to get me to schlep over here first thing in the morning just to see a washed-up has-been,” she said lightly, giving me a quick hug and a cheek kiss. “You’re looking worse for wear.”

“Economy class when you’re five foot ten. It takes it out of you. But I guess it’s not too bad to see you either. And am I ever glad it’s sunny,” I said, gesturing to the shoes, and she struck a pose showing them off.

“I had them made custom.”

“I… believe it.”

She folded her arms. “So, I hear Miss Hendrickson doesn’t even know you’re here.”

I grinned, putting a shushing finger up to my lips. “It’ll be fun this way,” I said. “I told her I would see her at the Royal Albert Hall, and I intend to make good on that.”

“You are… certainly something.”

“Thank you, I’m taking it as a compliment. Now, shall we move? Or is it even possible to walk in those ghastly heels?”

“It’s terrible. But we must make sacrifices in the name of fashion.”

“ Sacrifices in that you ritually sacrificed a unicorn and bathed your shoes in its sparkly rainbow blood, yes, I can believe it. Anyway, I need a sandwich, a flat white, and one of the world’s greatest orchestras.”

“You’re so demanding. I don’t know why we let you back in the country.

” But she didn’t seem to mind too much, because she led me to get all three of the above—took the Tube to South Ken and stopped into a café for a quick meal, and then to my hotel close by to the hall, where I got to drop off my luggage and fall on the bed to send Ella a text.

finally finished with the day! getting ready for the morning shift?

She replied with a picture of her breakfast, and we went back and forth chatting like everything was normal, as if we weren’t a few stops away from each other on the Tube right now.

I was there longer than I should have been—by the time I finally told her I was going to sleep and wished her luck with work for the day, I had to rush to take a shower and get ready, only narrowly making it in time to meet Adam and the director at the hall, giving both of them cheek kisses and gushing pleasantries that subsided once the director left to address the orchestra and I wound up alone with Adam.

“I think you may be the most insufferable person I’ve met in my life,” he said lightly.

“Thank you. I do love a superlative.”

He shook his head. “The worst part is, I can’t even complain about your antics too openly, because the whole orchestra is too excited to work with you. A whole bunch of raving fans of yours. They’re probably going to ask for your autographs after the rehearsal.”

“Is this your lead-in to ask for my autograph yourself?”

“Not on my life, Lydia Howard Fox. All right,” he said, standing up taller, “I have places to be. I trust it will take about ten minutes for you to integrate perfectly with the orchestra. Just be careful in there. You do too well and they’ll be clamoring for you to stay.”

“People begging for more of me doesn’t sound like the worst fate.”

I’d frankly expected him to be exaggerating a little bit—thought that even the ones who were fans of my work would play it cool and professional for now—but I was straight-up mobbed when I got into the room.

I put on my charm face, gushing to people and getting everyone’s names, telling them how wonderful it was to be working together, making some clever comments to the first violin, stopping through the underappreciated percussion section to show them some love, and the regular conductor, an older white woman, the very same Cynthia Altman who I’d seen perform at the Royal Albert Hall at my first time in London, was about the only one who kept her cool, smiling lightly at me as I took position at the front of the room.

“Tell me honestly,” she said, “because Adam dodged the question. Is this just a marketing stunt for your new film?”

“On the contrary, the director was of half a mind to break my legs if it would stop me from flying off to London right now. If I hadn’t had a co-composer on the score with me, I doubt he’d have let me.” I paused. “I’m very willful, so I’d still have gone, it just would have caused a meltdown.”

“Hm. I have heard that about you.”

“It’s quite an honor to meet you too, Miss Altman.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing your style. I’m making a concession, trusting you with my orchestra…”

I laughed. “My interpretation of the piece, I think, should be close to the composer’s vision. We always worked well together. Your orchestra is safe in my hands.”

It was an indescribable feeling, leading the orchestra through Ella’s piece—going through the room to talk points on each part of it, having spent hours poring over every inch of the score, every last note, every tempo and tone marking, everything Ella had put together to convey her feelings across the ocean—across the river.

Gave the clarinets special attention, letting them know that no pressure but this whole piece rests on you, and they really were suckers for me, because they seemed to enjoy being told that all of my expectations were on their shoulders.

And when we finally got into playing the piece itself, it stirred a deep, heavy longing in me, my chest aching for Ella—for how much of her was written into every note that filled the room.

For how much it felt like those moments when Ella and I had played the piano, side-by-side.

Even without her in the room, she was everywhere in the room, right there by my side, helping me lead the orchestra, and for a second, I dared to think maybe it could work.

∞∞∞

Cynthia Altman might have grudgingly accepted my work in rehearsals, but the way she looked at me after the pre-show run-through, in the low lights behind the stage as everyone swirled with activity around us—her expression was written with a clear message, do not fuck up my show.

“Just keep to it like in rehearsals,” she said. “I know you like flashy. Don’t even think about it.”

I laughed, practically bouncing on my heels. “For once, I’m planning on being normal. Me being here is dramatic enough.”

She stopped, raising an eyebrow. “Lydia Howard Fox, I hadn’t taken you to be nervous before a show.”

I fussed with my cufflinks. I loved getting fitted into a nice suit for a performance, but the cuffs on this shirt were so itchy. That was the only thing bothering me, and I wasn’t two inches from freaking out. “I’m just excited.”

She raised her eyebrows. I sighed.

“There’s a girl in the audience, is all.”

“What are you, fifteen?”

“And change, sure, we can call it that.”

She laughed. “I’m certain she’s been looking forward to seeing you here.”

“She doesn’t know I’ll be here.”

She threw her hands up. “I don’t know why I thought anything otherwise. Just… don’t screw it up, Lydia Howard Fox. I happened to enjoy your interpretation. I’d like an excuse to invite you back, and if you trip over your two left feet out there on the stage, you’ll ruin it for all of us.”

I let out a long breath. “Well, you’ve entrusted me with a lot. I know how much these musicians mean to you… I’ve long been a fan of yours, you know. I won’t let you down.”

She smiled wryly. “Enjoy the show, then. Just don’t have too much fun.”

Adam got to me once Cynthia left, chuckling as he shook his head.

“Even Cynthia Altman likes you. If you get her to invite you back and keep darkening my doorstep here at the RAH, I’ll be rather cross.”

“Well, I’ll take that as my invitation to do just that. I always liked annoying you.”

He put his hands up. “I don’t know what to do with you, Lydia. Break a leg, then.”

I waited at the wings, checking my text log with Ella, suppressing a smile at the sight.

The show’s about to start, how much later are you going to be?

I texted back. I promise I’ll be there for your piece, Ella. I keep my promises.

The message marked as read just before the crowd stirred outside, sound rolling from the stage. Cynthia addressed the crowd together with the director, and I sent one more follow-up message.

I’m almost there.

“As in the spring,” the director’s voice started, “we’re delighted to announce, in partnership with the local music program Crescendo, one highlighted piece from the student composers—an exceptional work from the new talent just hitting the scene.

As part of the introduction to tonight’s show, please enjoy Across the River, from London-based composer Ella Hendrickson… ”

She trailed off to let polite applause fill the room, and my only regret was that I couldn’t see how red Ella’s face was right now. She picked up as the applause was starting to fall off.

“And in collaboration with another student at the program whose name might be familiar to some of you,” she said, a playful edge to her voice. “We’re delighted to have, as guest conductor for this piece, Lydia Howard Fox.”

The applause was anything but polite this time—big and raucous, which just highlighted how it should have been like that for Ella, the monsters. Well—they’d see soon enough why they needed to start applauding Ella.

I walked out of the wings, stepping out and striding across the stage to the thunderous applause of the crowds filling the seats as I reached Cynthia and the director, giving both of them quick, polite hugs and cheek kisses, turning and bowing deeply to the crowd.

The damn lights. I couldn’t even see Ella anywhere in the dark sea that was the crowd.

But I could feel her there, that same magnetic pull that had my heart racing now, just as it had so many times since I first saw her in front of that clarinet, the one I was about to help bring to life.

I’d have to ask Clara later what kind of face Ella was pulling right now. Clara would have noticed.