A Song in the Night Read Free

Sweeping her hair back from her face, Beth looked out over the applauding crowd. They had loved it, and their reaction was intoxicating. Suddenly she knew she wanted to do this for the rest of her life.
    People were starting to move now, and the whole auditorium buzzed with the hum of a thousand conversations. It felt like the well-fed aftermath of a good concert; the bustle of a multitude of coats being pulled on, bags being picked up, and feet shuffling distractedly towards exits as though their owners were reluctant to leave. But up in the balcony, certain occupants of two particular rows were sitting tight. Chattering excitedly among themselves, they seemed oblivious to the movement all around them. Beth’s family had turned out in force. They had made the two hundred and fifty mile journey down from North Yorkshire; her parents, Ed and Cassie Simmons, and her two brothers, Ben and Josh, along with their wives and children.
    Though Rosie was sitting amongst them, she felt decidedly separate from them. Their closeness, their humour, the combination of their eccentricities and empathies intrigued her. The banter between them all seemed to flow with the ease and rhythm of the ocean on a summer’s day. She’d been around Beth’s lot before, but tonight, for the first time, it hit her. That brother of hers had gone and got himself a real family. How on earth had he managed that? The irony almost made her smile; yet, for a moment, she wasn’t sure how she felt about it.
    A small voice cut into her thoughts. “What was that last song called, Rosie?” Nine-year-old Meg crinkled her face. Meg was the eldest daughter of Beth’s brother, Josh.
    Rosie leafed through the programme. “I’m pretty sure it was – hang on a sec while I check … .” She flicked the pages until she came to Beth’s photo. The face was young and relaxed, and the large eyes shone mischievously. She skimmed the writing.
    ‘Beth Maconochie has been with the Avanti Sinfonia since 2002, and tonight she will be giving her first performance as violin soloist with the orchestra.’
    Rosie jumped another page. “Here it is. Yes, that’s what I thought. That piece was called ‘The Lark Ascending’ – written by a man called Ralph Vaughan Williams. I seem to think it’s your Auntie Beth’s favourite. Did you like it?”
    Meg nodded, a dreamy expression on her face. Her younger sister, seven-year-old Tammy, sighed in admiration. It seemed she was equally smitten.
    “Are we off then?” Ed Simmons’ voice boomed cheerily in the atmosphere of the almost empty gallery. They wended their way out of the auditorium and onto the first floor landing of the concert hall. The broad corridor was still brimming with people making their way towards the staircase which led down to the foyer, and the warm air hung heavy with the intriguing mix of scents and perfumes that emanated from the well-dressed crowd. Large, ornate chandeliers illuminated the whole scene, sparkles of light glinting from a million drops of shimmering pink glass. Tammy slipped her small hand into her sister’s. Rosie was amused to see Meg’s arm jerk as the younger child made slight, springing steps on the plush, rose-coloured carpet. It was obvious the evening had been a real treat for the young girls. Rosie found herself wondering what it must be like for them being in the capital at night, going to a classical concert in an opulent hall. A lot different from Yorkshire, she was sure. She remembered the strangeness she herself had felt when she’d first moved to London. She’d thought back then she would never get used to it. Yet here she was, almost a native. You could get used to anything given time.
    Outside in the cool October night air, the group met up with Beth and Ciaran. Hugs, kisses, and congratulations overflowed as they waited for taxis to take them to the train station. The area was full of Friday night revellers; theatres and concert halls spilled out their colourful