13

The Riverfront Song Contest

Liam and the Captain had been busy. After the duel they’d hurried to the river and set to work putting out chairs for the audience. Nearby the Earl’s servants had already constructed a stage and by the evening the best musicians in the country had taken up their positions.

Elegant couples arrived in carriages. Others strolled into the park on foot, clipping the floor with their brightly polished boots and canes. Everyone wanted to see who would win.

Earl Mostyn himself galloped in. He’d positioned a gold chair, a bit like a throne, on the side of the stage and he listened with pleasure as his conductor, his composer and his musicians began to rehearse his newly commissioned symphony.

Liam and the Captain sat on two of the wooden chairs they’d put out. They watched and listened.

The Captain spoke first as the orchestra crashed and surged through ‘The Countess of Shropshire’s First Symphony’.

‘They’re good, aren’t they,’ he said.

Liam nodded.

A huge white carriage pulled by four white stallions cantered up and stopped.

‘I can guess who this is,’ said the Captain.

Liam watched as a beautiful woman in a bright blue dress with a huge, tall blueish wig stepped out of the carriage. Footmen ran before her, scattering blue petals on the ground in front of her.

‘Look,’ said Liam. ‘Isn’t she beautiful, like a great big blue cloud?’

‘Clouds aren’t blue,’ said the Captain.

‘It’s the Countess of Shropshire,’ sighed Liam. ‘Isn’t she wonderful?’

Liam waved towards the Countess. But she didn’t notice. She walked towards Earl Mostyn’s stage, smiling at him, his conductor, his orchestra and his audience.

‘She’s a looker and no mistake,’ said the Captain.

‘What a beautiful dress,’ said Liam. ‘It’s so blue it makes the sky look boring.’

The Captain glanced up at the sky. The pink light of sunset was splodging across the walls of the nearby building. If anything it made the Countess’ dress look almost purple.

‘I’m not sure about the blue hair though,’ said the Captain. ‘I think that’s a bit OTT.’

Liam was transfixed by the vision in blue as she processed towards the stage. The Earl leapt down from his stage and bowed. The Countess curtseyed. He took her hand and led her to a seat in the middle of the front row. All around, the audience gazed at the beautiful Countess. They adjusted their wigs. None of them had anything to compare with her incredible blue wig.

‘Prepare to have your ears blown off,’ said the Earl to the Countess.

She nodded graciously, flicking open a little blue fan which she kept folded on her wrist.

The band began to play. Their music was called ‘A Symphony Inspired by the Radiance and Beauty of the Countess of Shropshire’. It was conducted by its composer, a small man wearing a white wig. His orchestra, all dressed in matching blue jackets and trousers were the best in the country.

When the Earl’s orchestra finished playing, the entire audience stood to applaud. The orchestra leapt to their feet and saluted the Earl. The composer took a low bow and waved his wig at the cheering crowd.

The Countess stepped onto the stage.

‘I had promised to marry the man who could express their love and appreciation of me the best in music,’ she said. ‘Earl Mostyn has certainly done that.’

She looked down at Liam and the Captain.

‘Liam, on the other hand, has said nothing. Indeed, he has played nothing. Have you nothing to offer?’

Liam looked desperately from side to side. His stage was empty. The few seats that he and the Captain had managed to set up were also unoccupied. There was no sign of Wolfie and her harpsichord, let alone an orchestra. He knew he’d lost.

‘I’m going to shoot myself,’ he muttered.

‘He’ll probably miss,’ said Earl Mostyn, leading the Countess of Shropshire away.

The Captain turned. Something had distracted him. He scanned the park, the buildings nearby, then the river.

‘It is with great regret,’ said Liam, ‘that I…’

‘Shut up,’ said the Captain, poking Liam in the ribs with his crutch.

‘Get on with it,’ said the Earl. ‘He’s lost, I’ve won, let’s get married, end of sports.’

‘By thunder,’ said the Captain, grabbing his wig and holding it down on his head, ‘look at that!’

He pointed towards the river. Slowly, a black ship floated into view.

‘She’s coming up on the tide,’ said the Captain. ‘That’s my old vessel, The Black Dragon. I didn’t think she’d still float.’

‘Yeah, but I don’t see what that’s got to do with anything, we still haven’t got an orchestra,’ moaned Liam.

The ship creaked into view and sailed slowly towards the shore. It groaned in the wind as it drew closer and closer. The huge figurehead of a black dragon loomed towards the crowd. They gasped and hurried away as the ship ground into the mud.

Steve leapt onto the prow, evening sunlight sparkling on his bright red jacket.

‘Ready?’ he shouted, waggling his baton in the air.

A cheer went up from within the ship.

‘A one, a two, a one, two, three, four…’

The band began to play Wolfie’s tune. They climbed the rigging, swung from the ropes, marched across the decks.

At first the audience didn’t know what to do. But they couldn’t help tapping their feet. Then they began to clap and cheer. Before long they were dancing. Musicians swung down to the ground on ropes. They filled the stage with their crazy dance, whilst Steve kept time with his baton. The harpsichord swung out over the crowd, and Wolfie kept playing as they lowered her down to the ground. Finally, at the end of the piece Steve pointed at the ship itself.

‘Fire,’ he shouted.

Cannons roared and smoke filled the air. The audience, Liam, the Captain, Earl Mostyn’s orchestra, Earl Mostyn, The Countess of Shropshire, the Earl’s footman, even the Earl’s great stallion, all threw themselves on the floor. Then, as the smoke cleared, they began to stand and cheer. Nobody had ever heard a piece of music like it before, and nobody heard anything like it ever again.

Steve grabbed Wolfie’s hand and led her up onto the stage. She bowed and the crowd went wild, throwing their wigs into the air. Even the Countess of Shropshire smiled.

‘It seems you have won the competition,’ she said, edging away from the Earl and towards Liam.

Liam bowed to the Countess.

The Earl stepped forward. He pulled Wolfie’s wig off.

‘I’m afraid this piece of music doesn’t count for a start, it was written by a girl.’

The crowd gasped in horror.

‘And half of that pirate band of desperados are girls too. It doesn’t count.’

Liam looked at Wolfie standing by her harpsichord on the stage. He couldn’t help thinking that her red hair looked much nicer than the Countess’ blue wig.

Liam stepped away from the Countess.

In fact, he couldn’t help thinking that Wolfie looked quite a lot prettier than the Countess, even though she didn’t have a blue dress.

He stepped towards Wolfie.

‘Do you always travel by airborne harpsichord?’ asked Liam.

‘I haven’t got a carriage,’ said Wolfie, leaping on top of her instrument, ‘isn’t this fantastic?’

‘Play it again,’ shouted the crowd.

The Earl threw his wig on the floor.

‘Cheats!’ he yelled.

‘And anyway,’ shouted the Earl, ‘everybody knows girls can’t be composers — whoever heard of music composed by a girl?’

Liam leaped onto the harpsichord and joined Wolfie.

‘Me!’ he cried. ‘Three cheers for Wolfie.’

Steve rubbed his eyes. He felt strange. Wobbly. He tried to speak. But no sounds came out of his mouth. He tried to lift his hand, to wave his baton, but his fingers felt heavy, as if they were made of lead.

‘Wait,’ he cried. ‘Wait! Wolfie! Liam! I don’t want to go! Let me stay.’

Even the picture of the town was fading now. The huge sailing ship rammed up on the embankment with its black dragon figurehead glowering at the crowded riverside, began to break up, almost as if it was a jigsaw disintegrating as it fell to the ground. The wonderful stone buildings dissipated into grains of sand. Colours flickered on and off. Before Steve could say any more or reach out any further, it was gone. He found himself falling, head over heels. He was tumbling downwards, or was it upwards? He didn’t suppose it mattered.

Steve screwed up his face. All he knew was that he was falling. And that meant one thing. At some point he’d stop falling. And that would hurt.

‘Aaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrgh,’ yelled Steve.

Steve covered his face with his hands and pulled his knees up to his head. The wind rushed past his ears, filling his head with the sound of a thousand tornados.