The Cello Duet

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

"Jenny, can I have a word with you?" my music teacher asks as the rest of the class files out of the room. I glimpse James' styled side over brown hair outside the door. He must be waiting for me.

"Yes Mr Healy?" I pause at his desk.

"I know it is last lesson of your first week in year twelve and you’re desperate to go home, but first of all," he looks up at me over his glasses, "very well done in that competition. Our school is very proud to have a National cello player within its’ humble walls."

"Thank you Sir," I say politely, cringing inside.

"Anyway, of course, this guarantees you a place to be part of a performance in Italy where the best young musicians from every almost every other country join together to form an orchestra. At the end of next term, you will be flying over to Italy, to perform with the other talented musicians. There will also be slots for solos. Of course, I was thinking you could do a solo performance. But I think you need something to give you an edge." He clears his throat. "I grew up in Ireland, and my son was also born in Ireland. But we moved here, to Riviniana, weeks after his birth." Oh no, I hope he’s not going to give me his whole life history. "Anyway, you probably don't want to hear all this, but the fact is, he has an Irish passport so when he went to compete for our Nation, he chose to go to Ireland.

"My son is an extremely talented cello player, and for this edge, I think we, I mean you, should perform a duet. Together. Do you know my son? His name is Eliot Healy; he goes to Jackson Boys School?”

"I'm sorry Sir, I don't think I know him."

"OK, well what do you think? I think since we have two of the best young cello players in the country in the same town, we should make the most of it, hm?"

"I, I guess you're the expert on this." I answer honestly, slightly taken aback. Flying off to Italy? With him and his “talented” son?

"Yes, I suppose you're right Jenny. So, rehearsals will be after school every Monday, Wednesday and Thursday. I presume you can make it. I will phone your parents tonight to discuss things further. OK, you’re dismissed, see you on Monday." He smiles at me and stands, briefcase in his hands.

"Thank you Sir," I say as I hurry out. I retrieve my cello from the storage cupboard and hitch the case on my shoulder

As soon as I step out the door, James stops leaning against the wall and positions himself in front of me. His arms reach round mine and I stand stiffly in his embrace, his arms not being able to reach all the way round my cello. James doesn’t seem to care. 

"You're always last out," his minty breath whispers in my ear. I wince. 

"Yeah, I've got another cello performance coming up." I reply, pulling away from him. I know Amelia will be waiting for me at the end of the road. We always get a lift from my Dad back home together, since we live on the same street. I'll have to tell her I'll be staying after school from next week. I start walking towards the bus stop where we meet. I can just make out a figure wearing a long brown coat with long black wavy hair. That will be her.