Free Killing Me Softly by Leisl Leighton Page A

minutes later, dressed in her favourite velour tracksuit, she tip-toed downstairs, let herself outside, and ran down the path to the studio. The night air, damp but crisp, clung to her skin. Frost crunched under her boots. A blackbird called in the distance, the lonely sound echoing in the dark. A horse snorted gently in a nearby meadow.
    To the left of the studio, a light shone from a single window in the guest-house. The band had moved in that day. The two weeks since they signed the agreement had seemed to pass by at a snail’s pace. She’d filled her days looking after Cat and learning more about running the farm and had enjoyed most of it, yet she longed for music.
    Shivering as the cool night air seeped under her tracksuit, she worked her way past the cars parked in front of the Dower House. The phalanxes of trucks she’d expected had never materialised. The band had arrived in their own cars with one van to carry their instruments and equipment. There had been no entourage – just Phil’s pregnant wife, Melissa.
    Lexi felt a little guilty about not sticking around to welcome them, but meeting a bunch of strangers and playing the fabulous host wasn’t really up her alley. Bev and Billy were much better at that sort of thing. Instead, she’d set off with Karl to ride the fences.
    She’d hoped working with Karl would exhaust her enough to sleep without nightmares.
    If only she hadn’t checked the mail before going to bed!
    Reaching the studio, she punched in the access code and let herself in. She switched on the light, glad to get out of the lonely dark, and headed to the small studio to turn on the equipment. Once the old desk was buzzing, she returned to the kitchen to make a cup of tea.
    As she waited for the water to boil, she walked through the studio. The band had been busy setting up their gear yesterday. They didn’t waste time. Good. Lexi hated working with time wasters. After making her tea, she grabbed a jar of her favourite lemon biscuits and headed back to the small studio, turning her mind to work. In minutes she was wrapped up in music, completely oblivious to everything but her composition.
    She was coming to the finale of a larger work she’d been writing for years; something that had unintentionally turned into an orchestral piece telling the story of her life. She’d begun the opus the summer before her life had crashed around her. Listening to the opening movement, she heard happiness and hope. A tear tumbled from her eye as she mourned the loss. She would give anything to feel that kind of wonder at the world again.
    The music made her smile now at the ambitious use of strings and boasting drums, a perfect representation of that girl on the verge of womanhood, the part of her she’d lost not long after she’d written it. But she wouldn’t change a thing. Wouldn’t deny herself memories of a better time; memories of a better self.
    The music changed. Dark and despairing, the second movement lacked the full orchestral power of the first. Piano, cello and bass cello, with the occasional hint of some haunting refrain from the clarinet, harked back to the innocence now lost. The bass and piano dropped out, leaving the clarinet and cello, a duet for her parents, signifying the joy of their life, their love for each other and their daughters. A piano solo brought the movement to an end; Lexi’s mourning of their deaths, with no comfort to be found.
    A clash of angry guitar and drums brought in the third movement; the agony of having to institutionalise Cat. A clarinet entered; a lost, flighty sound picked up in echoing refrain by other woodwind instruments, the flute flying in relief above, her sister finding refuge in a world other than this one.
    The music changed once more, a reflection of her struggles as she made her way in the industry she had a passion for. Disappointments and times of despair mingled with the joys of working at what she so loved. The fourth movement was full of a