Chapter 3: Sarah

Walking in to the hall at the start of a rehearsal is always a bit on an assault on the ears. One hundred assorted instruments are all being variously plucked, bowed, blown or thumped as their players warm up and check that everything is in working order. I slip in among the first violins and reverently remove Malachi from his case. Malachi and I have been playing together for four years now. I bought him with my very own money, money that I earned from my first album- the one I released just after winning Young Musician of the Year. He's a Cremona Stradivari and very precious to me. I do have another violin, Eddie, who is an electric violin made of carbon fibre and looks skeletal and very cool, but for the classical orchestral pieces they want a classically-styled violin.

We are performing Beethoven at the moment, a collection of his Sonatas, including the 'Kreutzer,' number nine, which is said to be one of the most difficult violin pieces ever written. I love challenging music, especially when I have to play multiple strings at once. Ernst's 'Erlkonig' is great, you have to play both the main tune and the accompaniment together, by yourself at the same time on one violin. In places you have to bow and pluck the strings at the same time. It represents a poem with four different voices, and if you play it well you can hear all four.

...perhaps my tendency to go on and on about music is another reason my relationships never last? Maybe I should try dating another musician.

“Oh there she is,” I hear from nearby, getting closer. “Our African Queen.”

Okay, that would be why haven't tried dating another musician. I refrain from sighing or rolling my eyes. I fear there will always be racists. Unfortunately, I have to work with some of them. This one is tall, handsome, dark-haired, blue-eyed and slimy as a slug.

“Good afternoon to you too, David,” I say neutrally as I turn towards him, tucking Malachi safely under my arm. I truthfully have no fear for my violin here. Whatever their flaws, everyone in the room is a true musician and not one of them would deliberately harm an instrument. Not like the bullies who smashed my first violin, back at the orphanage, before Katie and Tony came in to my life. The memory of my poor, broken instrument still haunts me though, and it's because of that I hold Malachi close now, not because of David.

“Might want to tone down the lipstick, that one makes your lips look fat,” David tells me. I am not wearing lipstick. “Although you do look pretty. For a black girl. Maybe you should wear a longer dress for the performance,” he added. “Wouldn't want people to get the wrong idea.” David Delaney, ladies and gentlemen, the man whose bassoon is undoubtedly compensation for a lack of size in other areas.

“Maybe you should wear a dress,” Francesca butts in, coming up to stand beside me with her flute in one hand. “He'd look cute in a little black dress, don't you think Sarah?”

I make a show of looking David up and down, then shake my head. “Nah. His knees are too knobby. He'd look devastating in a mermaid dress though.”

“You know who'd look devastating in a mermaid dress? Holly the timpanist,” Francesca announces, now totally ignoring David, as if he wasn't there at all. “Come on, let's suggest it to him.” I follow her lead as she drags me away to talk to Holly, leaving David flushing angrily and glaring after us. Holly is a sweetheart, great fun at end-of-run parties, and would absolutely rock a mermaid dress. There's not enough time to carry out Francesca's suggestion, though, because Roberto arrives and the rehearsal gets underway.

That is, sadly, the way things usually go. The orchestra gives little time to socialise within the group, and the few obnoxious a-holes monopolise the time. We rehearse, we eat, we perform, we sleep, we repeat, we have an end-of-run party, we have a few days or weeks off and then we start all over again with a new programme. Francesca is a friend, but there is never the time together to really consider her a close one. We sometimes manage to grab coffee together, but there are no long evenings for pub crawls and heart-to-hearts. We perform six nights a week and a matinée on Saturdays. My one free day is too often occupied with radio interviews, other press engagements and the occasional television appearance, all encouraged by the management because it’s good publicity.

The rehearsal goes well, and I manage to avoid David as we troop backstage to eat and change for the evening's performance. I notice Francesca and Holly whispering together, but think nothing of it until Holly comes over.

“If David keeps bothering you, you can complain to HR, you know,” he says quietly. He speaks with experience. David used to troll Holly too.

I shake my head. “An a-hole will always be an a-hole. If he stops picking on me he'll start picking on one of the newbies, and they haven't developed a thick enough skin to cope yet.”

“Pity he never goes far enough that they could just fire him,” Holly sighs, but we both know that David is one of the best bassoon players in the country, perhaps the best, and the orchestra is not going to want to lose such a talented soloist. “Anyway. Are you booked up for another photo shoot or anything on Monday, or would you be free for an afternoon out? I have tickets for the Culture Shock art exhibition, it's supposed to be really good.”

“That's the one at the art college along the road?” I ask, then do a double take as my earlier musings come back to my mind. “Wait, is this a date?”

“Uh... yes? If you want it to be? If you're not interested in a date-date we can just make it a friends-date.”

Holly looks so hopeful that I can't help but smile and accept. “Date-date sounds great. I'd love to go. Thank you for asking.” Then I pull a face and point past Holly to where Francesca is giving me a double thumbs-up. “Did she put you up to this?”

“Not exactly.” Holly makes a flip-flop gesture with his hand. He has glitter nail varnish, I notice. “She just helped me get up the nerve to ask you. You’re kind of a really big deal, you know.”

“Oh come on, Holly, I'm just Sarah. If you spend all your time being intimidated, you won't enjoy the date.” The ringing of a bell out in the foyer almost drowns out my last words.

“Oh!” Holly exclaims, “I'd better hurry, that was the ten minute bell and I haven't fixed my makeup yet!”