Chapter one
First the ferry from Dublin to Holy Head in Wales, then the train to London and north to Cambridge. The carriage swayed at counterpoint to the whispering of its wheels over the track. Rain splattered against the window, almost drowning the sound of cool, recirculated air streaming through the vents.
Tamsin reached, without looking, to steady the worn violin case on the seat next to her. Her fingers drummed on its surface, in time to the music emanating from her ear buds. Despite the energetic rills of the Vivaldi violin concerto, she could still discern the two matronly gossips carrying on behind her.
“Cindy’s Amanda left Oxford? Well, I never.”
“Left? My dear, she was practically sent down.”
“I still find it difficult to imagine. I recall her being such a bright, talented girl.”
“Yes, well secondary school is a far cry from Oxford, isn’t it? Couldn’t cope with the pressure, as I understand it.”
It was no good. She couldn’t focus. Tamsin stopped the music with an inward sigh. Just as she was removing her ear buds, her phone rang—obnoxious Nordic folk rock that brought the old birds to a standstill. Disapproval radiated from them like a sonic wave, but at least they were quiet.
She answered the phone mid-riff, indulging in just a smidgen of satisfaction. “Hello, Charlie.”
“Sis! How goes the grand adventure?”
A gust of rain pelted the window. “Wet.”
“So just like home, then?”
The gossipers got going again. Something about “disrespectful” and “some people’s children”, all emphasized by the violent dance of their knitting needles.
“You have no idea.”
“I emailed you a new arrangement—Pachelbel’s Canon in D. The double stops will suit you.”
Tamsin smiled, but the expression was tight as a clay mask beginning to crack. “I love your arrangements.”
Charlie sighed, and she knew hadn’t fooled him in the least. “You should be having the time of your life, Tommy.”
“I am.” Liar.
“Liar.” Pause. “So what’s wrong?”
Tamsin leaned her temple against the cool glass. Off in the distance she could just make out a meager patch of sun filtering though the storm clouds. “I don’t know how I’m going to manage without you.” Without him pushing her, coaching her—driving her to be better in every way.
Cambridge was her first paid place in a symphony orchestra, and she dreaded making a complete hash of it. It wasn’t her lack of regular, formal training that concerned her—much—but the very real possibility she was about to let everyone down. She was no true virtuoso like her mother, the infamous “Faerie Queen” of the symphonic world, no child prodigy like her brother—but everyone, including the board of trustees at Cambridge, was expecting something extraordinary from her. And with the bills at home mounting, Tamsin had no choice but to do her best not to choke. Leaving two okay-paying jobs for one okay-paying job several hundred miles away felt like insanity personified, but she couldn’t ignore the potential for much more should the opportunity pan out.
