Free The Unfinished Symphony of You and Me by Lucy Robinson

I’d barely looked beyond my own feet last time. Now I gulped, scanning around me with fresh eyes, while Brian loped off to talk to a tall, beautiful woman in a leather jacket.
    Two kids, who seemed no more than fifteen, were strolling past with big cello cases strapped to their backs. They both wore cool duffel coats, short skirts with thick tights and hi-top trainers. They were carrying lattes. Ididn’t understand. In these lofty environs, with busts of Mozart on the walls and glass cases containing priceless old manuscripts, would the musicians not have pointed beards and cassocks? ‘Did you know that Adrian’s been banging Chen all summer?’ one reported to the other.
    ‘Fuck off!’ was the reply.
    I nodded respectfully. No cassocks here, then.
    On either side of an old wooden staircase were doors to the college’s famous concert hall. I thought about what this hall meant and tried not to throw up. I’d been told that we would be ‘lucky’ enough to get to perform concerts and take masterclasses in this ‘unparalleled’ performance venue throughout the course. Catching a glimpse of a high ceiling and a long, large balcony, I thought that performing in there would be among the most unlucky experiences I could possibly imagine.
    ‘Wow,’ Jan Borsos said, peering in the same direction. ‘I cannot believe we are here! It is miracle! We have much luck!’
    ‘Yusss,’ I croaked.
    ‘Sally, Jan,’ Brian called merrily. ‘Come and meet Violet Elphinstone. Another coursemate. How fantastic that you all arrived at the same time!’
    I tried to give him a look that warned of impending homicide if he didn’t tone down all of this unnecessary jollity but my face was frozen. Which was probably a good thing because he was no longer a colleague but a tutor.
My tutor
. Oh, God.
    Violet Elphinstone’s face was also frozen, although hers was frozen into a smile she almost certainly didn’t mean. She was probably five foot ten but a pair ofcaramel-coloured ankle boots took her to well over six feet. There was nothing stooped or awkward about her. She just looked like she got a lot of sex with film stars. She had one of those shiny graduated bobs that never greases over and
her face was perfect
. As in, mathematically, golden-ratio-proportioned, da Vinci-certified perfect.
    ‘Hi, nice to meet you both,’ she said, meaning, ‘What the fuck are these two moronic freaks doing on MY OPERA COURSE?’
    I shuffled over, feeling intensely fat and linen-covered, and shook her hand. ‘Likewise,’ I said. ‘I’m Sally.’
    ‘Um, yes, Brian just introduced you,’ she pointed out sweetly, then giggled, putting an insincere hand on my arm so that I couldn’t take offence.
    For a few awkward moments we tried to find something to say to each other. I came in first with ‘Amazing boot!’
    Violet Elphinstone started to reply, a standard ‘Thanks, they’re Gina, I like yours, where are they from –’
    But I interrupted her, booming, in my broadest Midlands accent, ‘BOOTS.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Sorry. Boots. I said nice
boot
but I meant nice
boots
… Oh, sorry, Office,’ I added, remembering she had asked me where mine were from. ‘Five years ago, I think …’ I stared down at my soft brown boots, worn and grooved like walnuts, and felt embarrassed. I should have bought better shoes. And I should have just shut the hell up.
    ‘Oh, I
love
a bit of Office sometimes,’ Violet said conspiratorially. ‘BARGAINOUS! But don’t you find you have to dress down a bit when you’re wearing cheapfootwear? Erm, like,
balancing act
, right?’ She fiddled with her Chloé satchel, pointedly ignoring my unstructured grey dress. Which was not made of silk or expensive Japanese crêpe. ‘Oooh, and I love your ring too,’ she whispered, bursting with insincerity. Nobody, not even me, loved my ring. ‘Nothing like a big statement piece!’
    I was used to this sort of passive-aggressive behaviour. A few of the younger and more wanky