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Chapter One

It started to rain Pour down Not only was the bus late in arriving, but I was about to be drenched by icy raindrops too If there were subli, they were out in force

The bus stop possessed no shelter I paced along the pave freezing-my-tits-off kind of cold I stomped my numb feet as I marched

Headlights streamed by in rapid succession I stepped back from the curb to avoid icy splashes Finally, after what seele-decker with misted-up s, and inside just three other occupants I supposed I should have been grateful that the council ran a service I waved my bus pass and sat up front near the driver

He drove slowly The bus inched its way along the streets of Ca for onco traffic

Seven-twenty My watch told me I was on course for a less than punctual arrival The first ti onto the fake leather attaché case, the stand in its black plastic pouch and my clarinet in her tattered case Always a she—Nettie—like her predecessor I considered my clarinet my closest friend A pathetically sad admission that I kept to myself

Arriving at ht in a concealed puddle

“Crap” I shookand stomped up the street

St Mark’s church hall occupied the corner of the interchange The church itself was set back and swathed in darkness The brick-faced hall was lit up and glowing I’d co not typical of its kind I’d been under the ie assembly room, a few side roos

St Mark’s hall had a stage, a lighting syste made of wooden beams, a spacious polished tiest outside wall The hall h it had been built twenty years earlier The acoustics were fabulous

As I hurried into the antechamber, I heard a cacophony of musical instruments I

slowed, catching h of relief The orchestra was still tuning up

Luminous Sinfonia, the orchestra I’d joined two years earlier, occupied half of the hall space, not the stage The raised platforht have accommodated the brass section, but little else The orchestra I proudly associated myself asn’t a sly in-between and consequently could attempt a varied repertoire Its members subscribed to join the private orchestra and encoree depended on their backgrounds Together, we a short of a caliber orchestra with better funding and prestige

I sneaked in, scooted around the back of the percussion to the stage area, which was used to du it into a gap, and quickly asse over my shoulder, I assumed that everyone else was present Vincent, the percussionist, glared at me Vlad, I called him, due to his fantastically pale skin and black, spiky hair He usually arrived half an hour early to unload his van and set up Naturally, he frowned upon tardiness

I gatheredthe brass section to reach my seat It had been laid out ready by Cordelia, rateful smile of welcome

“Hi, Callie,” she said sweetly “You made it”

“Bus was late,” I grumbled

About me, numerous musicians trumpeted, strummed, plucked or blew their instruments while Fiona on her oboe fired off a concert pitch—A for tuning The chaotic noise was its oeet music I’d missed it