The Storm Sister (The Seven Sisters #2) (79 page)

I was banking on the fact that the orchestra desperately wanted to give the first performance of the most exciting home-grown composition since Grieg’s own to the world. And thank God, my
instincts had been right. David had finally buckled and agreed.

‘However, we’ll have Willem rehearse with the orchestra too. Then at least if your father lets us down, the entire evening won’t be a disaster. And I won’t even announce
he’s playing to the press beforehand. Deal?’

‘Deal,’ I’d said as we’d shaken on it and I’d walked out, head held high, mentally celebrating my coup de grâce.

Even though Felix
had
been true to his word, and had arrived on time to rehearsals over the past week, we all knew there’d be no guarantee he’d turn up when it mattered.
After all, he’d done it before.

Felix hadn’t officially been announced as the pianist, and Thom told me he’d discovered that there had been two different sets of programmes printed – one with Felix’s
name on it, the other with Willem’s.

I felt rather guilty about this, as it couldn’t be very satisfactory for Willem’s ego to know he was – to coin a musical phrase – playing second fiddle to an ageing,
unreliable drunk. Simply because his surname was Halvorsen. However, he was playing Grieg’s Piano Concerto in A Minor during the first half, which was at least some consolation.

One evening last week, I’d gone to watch Thom playing in the orchestra, and Willem had featured on the piano, performing Listz’s Piano Concerto No. 1. As I’d watched his slim,
talented fingers fly across the keyboard, nostrils flaring, shiny dark hair flopping over his brow, I’d felt a familiar lurch in my stomach that had nothing to do with the baby tucked away
inside me. And I’d told myself that at least my instinctive physical reaction to him meant that I might in time recover from the loss of Theo, even if it was not for now. And that I
shouldn’t feel guilty about it. I was thirty years of age and had a lifetime to live. And I was sure Theo would not want me to walk through it like a nun.

Ironically, Thom and Willem had become close, initially bonded by working together, but with a personal friendship developing alongside the professional. Thom had asked Willem over to the house
next week and I hadn’t decided yet whether I’d prefer to be in or out.

Finally surrendering to the fact that I was not going to get any more sleep this morning, I switched on my laptop to check my emails. I saw there was one from Maia and I opened it.

I smiled at the email, glad to hear that she sounded happy, then went to take a shower before donning my tracksuit bottoms, one of the few remaining pieces of clothing I had
that would fit around my expanding middle. I refused to waste money on maternity clothes, and spent most of my days in one of Thom’s roomy jumpers. I’d bought a stretchy black dress to
wear for my appearance on the stage tonight, and Thom had sweetly commented how lovely I looked in it, but I suspected he was just being kind.

After making my way down the stairs, I went into the makeshift kitchen, which had been temporarily relocated to the sitting room as the house renovations continued, and comprised a sideboard
with a kettle and a microwave on top of it. The kitchen was currently stripped back to its bare bones, but at least, I thought, most of the hard work was now done. We had a new boiler and the
contractors were about to install the underfloor heating, but the work was taking
twice
the time I’d expected and I was panicking that the house wouldn’t be finished before the
baby made its appearance. The nesting instinct drove me on and, quite understandably, drove the builders mad.

‘Morning,’ said Thom, appearing behind me, his hair standing upright from sleep as it always did. ‘Well, today’s the day,’ he sighed. ‘How are you
feeling?’

‘Nervous, excited, and wondering—’

‘Whether Felix will turn up,’ we chorused together.

‘Coffee?’ I offered as the kettle boiled.

‘Thanks. What time does your gang arrive?’ he asked as he wandered distractedly over to the new floor-length glass windows that opened onto the terrace and allowed a full, glorious
view of the fir trees and fjord below.

‘Oh, all at different times today. I’ve told Ma and Star to pop round to the artist’s entrance before the show to say hello.’ Butterflies roamed around my already bilious
stomach at the thought. ‘It’s so ridiculous, isn’t it? I’m far more worried about a handful of my friends and family there watching than I am about what any critic might
say.’

‘Of course you are, it’s natural. At least you get your solo out of the way right at the start, then we just have to sweat until Felix has played the very last note of
The Hero
Concerto
.’

‘I’ve never performed in front of an audience of this size,’ I complained. ‘And certainly not a paying one.’

‘You’ll do fine,’ he said, although as I handed him his coffee, I could sense his nervousness too. It was a big day for both of us. We felt that, between us, we had conceived a
new musical entity that was about to be brought into the world. And tonight, we would be proud parents at its birth.

‘Are you going to call Felix to check he’s remembered?’ Thom asked.

‘No.’ I’d already decided that I wouldn’t. ‘This has to be up to him, and him alone.’

‘Yes,’ he sighed, ‘it does. Right, I’m off to shower. Can you be ready to leave in twenty minutes?’

‘Yes.’

‘God, I hope he shows up.’

It was then that I realised that despite any protests to the contrary, Felix’s appearance tonight meant even more to Thom than it did to me.

‘He’ll be there, I know he will.’

However, as I took my place in the orchestra for the rehearsal two hours later, and saw the empty piano stool, my confidence waned. At a quarter past ten, when Andrew Litton said we could wait
no longer to begin, I nursed my mobile tensely between my hot palms.

No, I would not call him.

Willem had been called to take Felix’s place at the piano and Thom flashed a desolate look at me as Andrew Litton raised his baton to begin.

‘How could you? You shit!’ I swore under my breath, before I saw Felix running through the auditorium towards the stage, breathless and pale.

‘I doubt a person here will believe me,’ he said as he climbed the steps. ‘But my moped broke down halfway down the hill, and I had to hitch myself a lift the rest of the way.
I’ve brought the kind lady who rescued me from the roadside with me to prove it. Hanne,’ he called out, ‘am I telling the truth?’

One hundred and one pairs of eyes followed Felix’s pointing finger to the back of the auditorium, where a nervous middle-aged woman stood, obviously embarrassed.

‘Hanne, tell them.’

‘Yes, his moped broke down and I gave him a lift.’

‘Thank you. There will be a ticket waiting for you at the box office for tonight’s performance.’ Felix turned to the orchestra and bowed theatrically. ‘Forgive me for
holding you all up, but sometimes, things are not as they seem.’

After the rehearsal, I saw Felix leaning by the artist’s entrance smoking a cigarette and caught up with him.

‘Hi, Ally. Sorry about that. A genuine reason, for a change.’

‘Yes. Do you want to go for a drink?’

‘No thanks, darling. I’m on my best behaviour for tonight, remember?’

‘I do. It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it? Four, or even five generations of Halvorsens up there tonight.’

‘Or Griegs, as the case may be,’ he said with a shrug.

‘I . . . You know about that?’

‘Of course I do. Anna told Horst on her deathbed, and where the letters were hidden. And then he told me just before I went off to Paris to study. I’ve read all of them. Pretty
steamy stuff, eh?’

I was stunned at his casual revelation. ‘You’ve never thought to say anything? To use it?’

‘Some secrets really should be kept secrets, don’t you think, my darling? And you of all people should know that it’s not where you come from genetically, but who you
become
. Good luck tonight.’ With that, Felix offered me a wave and disappeared out of the stage door.

At six thirty, Star texted me to say that she and Ma were here. I collected Thom from the musician’s green room and we walked along the corridor, me feeling decidedly nervous about
introducing my twin brother to my sibling.

‘Ma,’ I said, quickening my footsteps as I saw her, looking effortlessly chic as always in a Chanel bouclé jacket and navy skirt.

‘Ally, it’s so wonderful to see you,
chérie
.’ Ma folded me in her arms and I smelt the familiar aroma of her perfume, which indicated safety and security.

‘Hello, Star, it’s so wonderful to see you too.’ I hugged her, then turned to my twin brother, who was staring slack-jawed at my sister. ‘And this is Thom, my newest
sibling,’ I said as Star looked up at him and smiled shyly.

‘Hello, Thom,’ she responded and I nudged him to reply.

‘Yes, hello. It’s, um, wonderful to meet you, Star. And you, er, Ma . . . I mean, Marina.’

I frowned at Thom, who was being very peculiar. Thom was normally effusive in his greetings and I felt a little cross that he hadn’t been just now.

‘And we are pleased to meet you, Thom,’ Marina answered. ‘Thank you for taking care of Ally for me.’

‘We take care of each other, don’t we, sis?’ he said, still staring at Star.

Just then, a call came over the tannoy for the orchestra to gather onstage.

‘Right, we have to go, I’m afraid, but we’ll see you afterwards in the foyer,’ I said. ‘God, I’m nervous,’ I sighed as I kissed them both goodbye.

‘You will be wonderful,
chérie
, I know you will,’ Ma comforted me.

‘Thanks.’ With a wave, I walked back down the corridor with Thom. ‘Cat got your tongue?’ I asked him.

‘Goodness, your sister’s pretty, isn’t she?’ was all he could say as I followed him onto the stage for our pre-show pep talk with Andrew Litton.

‘I’m worried,’ I whispered to Thom as we filed back onto the stage at exactly seven twenty-seven that evening to a round of tumultuous applause. ‘He
still seems sober. And he told me he plays far better drunk.’

Thom chuckled as he saw my frown of genuine anxiety. ‘I actually feel sorry for Felix. The poor man can’t win! And remember, he has the whole of the first half, plus the interval to
remedy the situation. Now,’ he whispered, ‘stop worrying about him and enjoy this wonderful moment of Halvorsen – or Grieg – history. Love you, sis,’ he added with a
grin as we parted to take our places in the orchestra.

I sat down in my seat amongst the woodwind section, knowing that within three minutes I would rise to play the first four bars of ‘Morning Mood’. And that, as Felix had said to me
earlier, it didn’t matter who had originally conceived me. Only that I’d been given the gift of life and it was up to me to make it – and myself – the best it could be.

As the lights dimmed and a hush descended, I thought of all those who loved me, somewhere out in the darkness of the auditorium, willing me on.

And I thought of Pa Salt, who had told me I’d find my greatest strength at my weakest moment. And Theo, who had taught me what it was to truly love another person. Neither of them were
physically present, but I knew they would be so proud of me as they watched over me from the stars.

And then I smiled at the thought of the new life inside me, that I was yet to know.

I put the flute to my lips and began to play for all of them.

7th December 2007