St. Mallory's Forever!

40 HELEN: The distinct disadvantage of music-teacher parents.Untitled Part 41

Mum suddenly announced to me yesterday that the music department has a concert scheduled for Saturday. To be fair, she had told me about it long before, but being wrapped up in my own world of mystery, mayhem and Miss Marple mime I clean forgot about it.

There will be numerous orchestral performances — the chamber group will be playing the Bach Double Violin Concerto. Only the second movement, understandably, although I've no doubt that Eva and Kate (two girls from the Upper Fifth who are playing the solos) are more than capable of tackling the other two.

Then there's the concert band, and we're playing an arrangement of some film scores. Old films no-one my age has ever heard of, of course. Can we play music in black and white?

The orchestra are going to be tackling the 1812 Overture (Tchaikovsky for those not in the know) and part of Shostakovich's Gadfly Suite. And yes, I appreciate not everyone is as obsessive about music as I am, so I'll keep this brief, I promise.

The thing is that we also have the ubiquitous solos to perform, and of course anyone with two thumbs and a music-teacher mother will be press-ganged into doing more than her fair share. Deep flipping joy.

"Mum, if I start playing solos on every instrument the school owns, everyone will think I'm showing off," I told her at break when she suggested following up an oboe variation with a flute sonata. "I'll do three maximum, and I'd prefer sticking with just two."

"But we don't have anybody else who plays the cor anglais or the harp," Mum countered. "And what sort of a concert is it without that Gilbert and Sullivan piccolo variation?"

I could think of several apt descriptions, but wisely didn't say so. Unlike Mum, I'm not a big fan of either Gilbert or Sullivan. I mean, they're very funny the first few times, and the music is catchy, but it's not the kind of thing that excites teenage girls. I mean, Pirates of Penzance? Not unless you can get Johnny Depp into it!

"Mum. If you really want that particular piece, Katrina in the Upper Sixth is learning it."

Mum turned on the pleading eyes. "I know she is, darling, but you are far more accomplished than Katrina. This is for a concert. The standards will reflect on my teaching."

"You've been here five minutes. No-one will be expecting miracles." Time to put my foot down. "I am not about to do my one-man band impression, all right?"

Mum turned on the dreadfully disappointed expression she used to fire at Dad. No words needed. It was guaranteed to make you feel guilty even if you hadn't done anything wrong. I hadn't a snowball's chance in hell of standing my ground.

"Okay, I'll play the Muczynski and the Bach, if it makes you happy." The Muczynski is a fiendish set of pieces I was learning for my grade eight flute exam, and the Bach is a partita for violin. They sound harder than they are. At least, that's what Mum always told me. Can't see it myself.

"Oh, but the Quantz is so beautiful..."

"Fine, the Bach and the Quantz, then. Just choose two, okay? I've got enough on my plate without having to practice all of these as well."

Mum looked suspiciously as me for a moment. "You do look tired, now that you mention it. Is everything okay?"

"Just... a lot of work. The teachers here are a lot more demanding than my last school."

Which was true, although that wasn't why I was wandering about with my eyes propped open with matchsticks.

I haven't told Mum yet about what happened with the library and the Bursar. Although I know I ought to, given her history with him, I don't want to worry her, just in case we are barking up the wrong tree.

I mean, even though he lied to the others about where I was I can't actually prove it was him who turned the key in the library door or stole my notes. 'Circumstantial evidence' is, I believe, the legal term. We're not ready to call in Inspector Lestrade of the Yard just yet.

"Let me know if you have any problems I can help you with," Mum said.

"Thanks, but I think I can cope," I said.

I can't cope. I need help, but you can't give me it, Mum. You're a known associate of the prime suspect.

I squashed my thoughts and there was a pregnant pause between us. I gave in first.

"How about you? Are you okay? You look drained."

Mum sighed long and hard. "As you said, Hels, this is a demanding establishment. There's a lot of work involved in running a full department. It's not like at the Langland when I was just a music teacher."

And in the last school there was no Bursar harassing you, I thought. If that's what he's doing.

He and Mum might well have known each other years ago, but that didn't mean Mum was happy with him being around now. On the other hand I had to be open to the possibility that (shudders at the thought) she might be very happy, but was worried how I would take it. She knows Dad and I are close.

But even if Sam the Bursar (I really must find out his surname at some stage) has got Mum's best intentions at heart, locking me in the library and stealing my notes is not the way to show it. I don't trust him as far as I could throw him.

I decided to push my luck and ask Mum about the Nils piece. Had she had any more thoughts about it? Just curious, like, seeing as I bought it for her.

"It's a mystery," she said, and my mouth fell open.

So it's not just us!

I thought for a second or so Mum was going to confirm our worst suspicions. But then Mum made it clear the mystery for her was just the Nils piece itself, not the suspicious goings on around it. "There's a friend I know. He's a recognised Nils expert. I'm going to send it to him tomorrow."

"Send it Recorded Signed-For," I advised her, but didn't explain my misgivings.

I waited patiently for Mum to say more, but she was too busy thinking about the concert.

"So, the Quantz and the Muczynski?"

I stared at Mum with a look of unadulterated exasperation. "I do have other lessons apart from music."

"Oh, go for the Quantz, if you're that pushed for time. You've got the notes so much better on that."

Actually I thought I was better with Muczynski, but I just breathed a sigh of relief, grabbed the requisite sheet music and headed to the practice room in which I'd left my flute and violin. They weren't my favourite instruments, but then I'd never been able to pick out one in particular that was. Mum was prouder of my more unusual abilities, but I didn't feel confident at playing a solo on the accordion or mandolin.

I practised for about an hour, then pulled out my phone to check Facebook. Not that we're supposed to have our mobiles on us during the day, even for "free periods", but after the Library Incident, I was taking no chances.

Anyway, I had new notifications — Tim again. He never lets up with his comments, and I'm beginning to wonder if he has any "real" friends. I mean, I'm not that interesting, am I?

Don't answer that. You're all biased anyway, given that you give up your time to read this. Though none of you have yet come up with a theory for the Nils score or the Bursar. Not that I believe, anyway, although secret message one was entertaining! Trust me when I say that trying to write messages with musical notes sounds fun, but isn't, and so that's out.

Okay, back to Tim. Tim was just dropping me a line to say he'd be at the lacrosse match on Saturday, and at the concert too.

Yeah, I've been roped into both. Not happy, but that's the way is.

Personally I think I should be exempt from silly sports (musicians can't risk injuring themselves, after all), but the shortage of team members is inevitably going to find me at some ungodly hour with a lacrosse stick in my hand. I would promise you pictures, but we don't have anyone spare to take them, and anyway I prefer not to have images of myself in that ridiculous manga PE kit splashed all over the internet.