Free Strings Attached by Judy Blundell

the increase in the family fortunes coincided with the Duffys moving out of the adjoining apartment to live with their daughter in Pawtucket. We took on their space as well. Since the landlord had thrown up a wall in order to create two out of a full-floor apartment, Da simply knocked it down again. Now Delia had her own room, as did Jamie, and Muddie and I shared the small back bedroom overlooking the yard.
    A taxi to the station! I couldn’t believe it. I held myself very still in the backseat so Delia wouldn’t correct me. It was hard not to ask a question, but I could tell Delia was nervous about missing the train. She kept checking the delicate watch on her wrist. Maybe she, too, was nervous about going to a real Broadway play.
    Well, it wasn’t on Broadway, not yet. The two of us were going to New Haven for the tryout of a new musical called
Carousel,
and I’d read that there would be a real carousel onstage. Delia had bought the tickets, shocking everyone in the family because she never did anything extravagant and didn’t approve of my voice and dance lessons, even though she paid for them. “It’s time Kit knows what she’s in for,” she said. Leave it to Delia to turn a pleasure trip into a warning.
    As we sat on the train, I was content to look out the window and not talk. Delia seemed on edge, and when I said I had to go to the bathroom, she snapped, “Oh, for heaven’s sake!”
    I looked down at my bare legs. I had a scab on one knee, and my calves were dotted with bruises. I realized howsilly I was, believing that people would think I was older. Delia’s sleek legs crossed and recrossed, her stockings whispering. I could see a man down the aisle looking at her legs, and how Delia’s head jerked away, how she managed to convey to that stranger that he was a lout for even stealing a glance. I lifted my chin, too, trying to look as disapproving as she did.
    Outside the theater in New Haven, people were milling under the lights of the marquee, the women all dressed up in mink and high heels. I’d never seen such glamour. I could pick out the ones who had driven up from Manhattan, and they were so perfect I almost lost my breath. I felt very Rhode Island, and was embarrassed that I’d ever imagined anyone ever saying, “Who
is
that beautiful red-haired girl in the blue dress?”
    Delia moved stiffly through the crowd, the tickets held tight in her gloved hand. “Follow me and don’t get lost,” she instructed.
    We pushed through into the lobby. It was smaller than the glittering palace I’d pictured. My nose filled with perfume and hair spray, a delicious smell.
    “Wait, Delia! Can’t we —”
    “Let’s find our seats. We don’t want to miss our curtain.”
    “But it’s only a quarter to.”
    “Shh!”
    We were up in the balcony, high up, but it didn’t matter. Delia sat the way she always did — straight, her spine not touching the chair. She looked below to where the audience was beginning to file in. I craned my neck, picking out the most elegant dresses.
    The lights dimmed and the music began with a swell that felt like a wave against my body. Tears instantly spurtedto my eyes and ran down my cheeks. It was a waltz, but like no waltz I’d ever heard.
    It was all up there, everything I knew and everything I didn’t know yet. Love and lies and cruelty and beauty, and the music that could be like a bruise way deep inside. When the curtain thundered down for intermission, I couldn’t speak for a minute.
    “What do you think will happen?” I asked Delia. “Why is Billy Bigelow being such a louse when he loved Julie so much?”
    “Love isn’t enough, I guess,” Delia said.
    “Sure it is,” I said. I couldn’t understand a world where it wasn’t.
    She stood up. “It’s not over. Let’s go hear what everyone says in the lobby.”
    I trailed after her, the music still in my head.
    “I think the show is a hit,” Delia murmured, her gaze darting around the lobby. Her cheeks