‘Thank you, Madame! And…’ Emilia’s gaze flitted over to where I lay wheezing on the floor. ‘And thank you, Mr Linton, for giving me this opportunity. I’ll never be able to thank you enough. Whether you accept me or not, this is a dream come true.’ Blushing, she sank into another curtsy, and hurried onto the stage. I pulled myself back up onto my seat and raised my fingers to my ears, ready to stuff. A moment later, she opened her mouth…
And sang.
And it did not sound like the harpy’s screech I’d been expecting.
Maybe she’d had a sore throat that morning I had first heard her. Maybe I had just been annoyed as hell she’d kept me awake. It didn’t matter. What did matter was: the girl could actually sing!
Which meant I couldn’t toss her out on her apostrophised English ‘arse. Damn!
Conspiratorially, I leant over towards Claudette.
‘Tell me she’s bad!’ I whisper-pleaded. ‘Please? Please tell me that in your professional opinion, she’s horrendous, and my philistine ears are deceiving me!’
‘Hm…’ The prima donna tapped her chin with a long, manicured fingernail. ‘Sorry to disappoint. She’s a little rough, per’aps, but with a little training…’
‘Don’t say it! Don’t say it!’
‘…she could become quite the famous singer. I think we should consider ‘er, mon ami.’
I buried my face in my hands. Peeking out from between my fingers, I glanced at the music director. He had an expression on his face as if he’d just seen one of the three muses walk on stage and start giving him a private performance. I was doomed. Doomed to eternal misery.
Emilia sang three entire songs for her captive audience. Finally, the echoes of the last note subsided. She ran down from the stage and rushed towards us. Or at least I think that was what she did. I wasn’t too sure, because I was still hiding behind my fingers.
‘Mr Linton! Oh, Mr Linton, I can hardly express what it means to me,’ she whispered. ‘To see that my performance moved you to tears…!’
‘Oh. Um…yes. Tears. Of course.’
Quickly, I lowered my hands, wiped my dry eyes and tried to look as moved as possible for a person sitting perfectly still.
Shyly, Emilia turned towards Claudette and Monsieur Joyal. ‘What did you think?’
The prima donna gifted the young girl with a rare smile. ‘In my personal opinion, you did very well, child. But of course I am not se one who will make se final decision.’
‘I agree.’ Monsieur Joyal nodded enthusiastically. He looked as if both his ears had fallen irrevocably in love. ‘But I’m not se one with se power to decide, either, Mademoiselle.’
They both looked at me.
I cleared my throat. ‘Um…well…I’d have to say that…well…’
Claudette stepped on my foot.
‘Ouchesss!’
‘Pardon?’
‘Yes! I mean yes. You are hired.’
‘Oh, Mr Linton!’
Rushing towards me, Emilia threw her arms around my neck and hugged me. Her lips dived towards me.
Hell no! No, no, nonono!
I dived to the side just in time. Her mouth hit only empty air.
‘Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re so wonderful! Oh, Mr Linton, if there’s ever anything I can do for you, if ever you need something, I’ll do anything, I promise, I’ll—’
‘No!’ I squeaked, somehow managing to slither out of her stranglehold. ‘No need! It was a pleasure! The platonic kind of pleasure! And there won’t be a need for you to do anything whatsoever, not ever! Except sing, occasionally. But that’s none of my business. If you would excuse me…’