Hunting for Silence (Storm and Silence 5)

‘Zut!’ Sticking one finger in her ear, Claudette wiggled it experimentally. ‘I sink I need to invest in earplugs.’

‘Oh, thank God!’ I took a deep breath. ‘I thought it was just me.’

‘It’s not.’ Claudette patted my hand. ‘Trust me, Monsieur Linton, for every good singer out sere, sere are a ‘undred people who cannot wait to drive met

aphorical nails into your ears.’

Another figure stepped from the door that led backstage, dressed in a white gown and a brilliant smile that widened at the sight of me.

‘Speaking of nails,’ I groaned. ‘Here comes one to my coffin.’

Claudette raised one eyebrow. ‘What is se matter? She is pretty girl, non? And she appears to be quite fond of you.’

‘That is the problem.’

‘Ah.’ Claudette’s eyes lit up with sudden understanding. ‘You are…how they say it in English…queer, oui?’[28]

My eyes nearly popped out of my head.

‘What? No!’

‘It is all right.’ She gently patted my shoulder. ‘I’m not the same as all the stuffy English people. I no judge.’

I opened my mouth to reply, but Miss Harse had already reached us, and I shut it again. Clearing my throat, I bowed to her.

‘Welcome, Miss Harse.’

‘Good morning, Mr Linton. It’s so wonderful to see you again!’

‘You, too,’ I said with my fingers crossed behind my back. ‘This is Claudette Chantagnier, the prima donna here at the opera house, who is going to advise me…’

‘A pleasure, Madame.’ Miss Harse bowed to the prima donna, while Claudette scrutinized her intently. Poor girl. In a way I pitied her. Even though I wanted nothing so much as to get as far away from her as I could, I knew that singing in the opera was her dream, and I also knew that there was no way she was going to get a job here in France. Not after the introductions were over.

‘…and this,’ I continued, gesturing at the man on my other side, ‘is Monsieur Louis Joyal, the music director. Monsieur Joyal, meet Miss Emilia Harse.’

Emilia did another shy curtsy. ‘A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Monsieur Joyal.’

It was coming. The end of the poor girl’s music career in France. Any second now. Any second…

‘Good evening,’ the music director said in heavily accented English. ‘Welcome to Paris, Miss ‘arse.’

I nearly choked myself trying to stifle the sound of my laughter. My knees trembled, trying not to collapse.

‘Yes,’ Claudette agreed, inclining her head. ‘Welcome, Miss ‘arse. I hope you will enjoy your stay in Paris. For a lovely young thing like you, sere are so many fascinating opportunities in sis great city.’

Wheezing, I had to support myself against a nearby column. Claudette glanced over at me, one eyebrow raised.

‘Is something se matter, Mr Linton?’

‘N-nothing! Nothing at all!’

I’m just thinking about all the fascinating opportunities that Paris could offer to a young ‘arse!

Grabbing on tightly to my column, I just about managed not to collapse from laughter. I wasn’t quite sure the opera audience, on the first night when Miss ‘arse would make her debut, would be so lucky.

‘Well, mademoiselle.’ Waving a well-manicured hand, Claudette gave the girl a tiny little smile. ‘Go on and show us what a ‘arse can do.’

I lost my hold and slid down the column.