chapter seven- the audition! this is quite a big chapter for action, as it nearly ends the first part of this story. one more chapter to go, and then it's on to part 2!
so pretty please for reviews, as last chapter was frankly... RUBBISH from all you lovely readers. dedications are on offer for the most wonderful people.
Meepsta
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Chapter 7- Sunday
The remainder of the week went too quickly. I knew that my chance of getting through the audition was minimal, as my pieces were messy and unprepared, but I liked a challenge.
I was relaxing in a practice room in the west wing of the academy when I heard a woman approach. I took a deep breath and her heady perfume hit the back of my throat. I sneezed, the sound amplified by the echoes in the room, and I flushed in embarrassment. What a good first impression...
"You must be Miss Finch." She chuckled, grasping my hand and helping me up. "We've heard a lot about you. I'm the principal's secretary- Amelia Pople- and I've been dealing with most of the paperwork with getting you here to the audition."
"Thank you... this is a great opportunity, and I'm so glad that I could audition part-way through the year." I said politely, my hand searching the back of the seat for my 'white' stick. A visiting doctor had come to our house late on Thursday to deliver it, which he advised I used in public places. He said it would help with my back too if I had something I could lean on.
"Well, shall we be off? It's a five minute walk to the auditorium, and we wouldn't want to keep the examiners waiting. There are two, I think, who will hear you today. One will be Miss Jenkins, the senior cello tutor, and the other will be Mr Arlett, the head of music."
"OK, Miss Pople. My parents have already taken my cello there, so it must be just I who needs to go.. although it feels as if I'm forgetting something."
"I'm sure you're not. And please, call me Amelia!"
We fell into silence as we walked down the long corridors, her heels clicking on the stones that paved the floor. Apart from the occasional flitter of a flute or the rumble of a double bass, there was a peculiar silence in the courtyard.
"Why is it so quiet, Amelia?" I finally mustered the courage to ask. "Surely many of the students should be practicing."
"Today is a very special day for the academy. The Prime Minister himself has come to listen to some of our most valued students play..." she trailed off, a hint of guilt in her voice. "Well... student. There are some others in the show, but Mr Howard is the main item."
I vowed to remember his name, in case it became useful for my possible future at the academy. But for months after I actually met 'Mr Howard', I wished I that I had run away at that first mention of his surname.
"Oh, and here we are!" Amelia cried, patting me on the back. "Good luck... and most of all, have fun!" I smiled; it was one of my old teacher's sayings.
I pushed open the dense oak door and walked inside.
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"Hello, Melissa!" A chair was pushed back, scraping the hard marble floor, and a wrinkled hand laid on my shoulder. "As Amelia has probably told you, I'm Robert Arlett, and this is my companion Miss Emily Jenkins. We'll be taking your audition today."
"I am very pleased to meet you." Miss Jenkins said stiffly, shaking my hand with more force than necessary. Her voice was fake and sugar-coated, and I immediately began to dislike her. "We have heard of your recent predicament, and we want to express our highest condolances for the unfortunate turn of events."
"Thank you." I said meekly, dipping my head. "I have decided not to let my blindness interfere with what I wish to do with my life, but continue like before."
"There's a good girl!" Mr Arlett roared, slapping his hand on my back. "I admire her, I really do. This Melissa has a good sense of purpose and duty. Now please, be seated! Here..." He showed me to a chair twenty or so paces away with velvet cushions and long legs. "Will this do for playing?"
"I think so... yes," I replied cautiously, "although it is hard to know before I sit down with my cello. Could I go and get it?"
Patronisingly, Miss Jenkins sighed. "It's over to the right, lying down against the wall."
God, I hated that woman. But the main thing was that I trusted Mr Arlett, who would probably be making the final decision, and I wasn't able to see the anguished faces Miss Jenkins would be pulling throughout my playing.
As soon as I began to play the Faure, unnaccompanied so as not to mask my tone, I felt a surge of confidence. The shift up to the high D# was perfectly in tune, and my bow seemed to slide effortlessly over the strings. It was as if I was meant to be playing my cello, right there at that moment. Then it was time for the next piece: the carefree Bach prelude, of rolling green hills and peaceful landscapes.
Legs shaking, I stood up and bowed. The audition had gone too well to be true, but there was one thing I knew for certain- I was going to be so angry now if i didn't get a place.
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