Sunday 14 August

I’ve spent most of this week trying to work out how to get what I want without breaking any rules. How do I keep everyone happy? The old Kate keeps chiming in, informing me that music is a dream. How will I feel if I fail the exam and have to go back to Shallow Bay next year?

I will feel like shit. Thank you, old Kate.

I wake on the morning of the Winter Fair convinced that I just have to explain the problem fully to Oliver. If I do that he’ll be reasonable. He’ll tell me that, together, we can work something out. For now, choosing one road closes off the other, Robert Frost. So why can’t I stay at the crossroads for a while and hedge my bets? This seems like the obvious, sensible solution.

I recite all this to myself as I head across to the auditorium. I told Iris I felt like being alone this morning and left early. I haven’t been speaking much to her this week. She’s been accusing me of being in a bad mood, and even though I denied it, I have been. At her, at the old Kate, at Oliver, at my parents, at everything that is making what should be a good thing difficult.

Oliver is out the front of the auditorium when I arrive. Here early, like me. I explain to him all the reasons I need him to bend a little on the times we practise. I go through all the lists I’ve been making, all the reasons why I can’t ditch the exam, how I want to do it all and how I can’t see why I shouldn’t be able to.

He listens without interrupting. I can’t tell from his face if he’s going to say yes, but I don’t think he’s going to immediately say no. People from the orchestra start arriving as I finish my speech.

I wait for Oliver to answer, keeping the nerves in check by counting the number of tents set up on the oval. I get to thirty.

‘When can you practise?’ he asks eventually.

‘Friday nights I can get a pass, no problem. Mondays are hard because it’s after the weekend and they don’t like us going out, but I could maybe do Tuesday. Not Wednesday. Saturday morning is okay, but Sunday I have to study.’

‘So, Friday night, maybe Tuesday and Saturday morning.’

‘Two nights and a morning,’ I say.

He looks at his cello, then nods at some people going inside. ‘It just seems like you’re not serious. And I know it seems like I’m being harsh, but, we won’t be ready if you can’t commit. Do you know how competitive this thing is? The other people auditioning have been working for years.’

He waits for me to change my mind. I wait for him to do the same thing.

When we can’t wait any longer I pick up my cello. Please compromise, I think. Please, please, please.

But he doesn’t.

And I can’t.

‘Then I guess you have to ask Juliette to partner with you,’ I say.

And he agrees.