The Soloist



The orchestra played the finale and the audience ejaculated their applause. The solo violinist smiled and bowed. Her music matched her beauty. But there was another woman in the string section who had coveted her spot. She had the music to match the soloist, but her looks weren’t as alluring. She was not ugly, but compared to the fire red hair and classical statue smile of the woman bowing in front of her, she looked plain. She sat in the string section every night, her heart growing evermore jealous, she knew her command of the violin was superior the big star, but the world didn’t have enough places to give everyone a spot under the light.

     The conductor named Carol the backup should Megan take ill before a concert.

     ‘You should practice Megan’s parts as well as the string section backing. I know you are more than capable. You can really burn with your bow. Do you accept?’

     ‘Yes Seb, I will be the backup. I already know it off by heart. I have a personal connection to Beethoven.’

     ‘Fantastic, I am glad you know it, but just check in with Megan, and she will give you some tips, on being in the limelight. You may know the piece. But standing up as a soloist in front of a packed opera hall takes more than knowing your music. Everyone stares at you. The first time I conducted, I shook before, during, and after the performance. I can barely remember if it went well. The adrenaline was so intense you see. When you play in the string section you blend and you share the nerves with your co-musicians. To stand and take the eyes of the hall is a rush. And that is just the nerves. You can’t stand there and look miserable, it’s like being a frontman for a rock band, you have to engage with the audience. Still, it may never happen, as we all hope Megan remains in good health.’

     ‘Of course,’ said Carol, even though she willed Megan all the ills of the world with every inch of her body. It was there she began to devise plots in the dark morning hours after the performance. How could she make Megan ill without drawing attention to herself?      

 

 

 

Carol sourced a vile of arsenic. On the week before the televised performance of Beethoven’s Violin Concerto, she visited Megan’s dressing room.

     ‘Carol,’ said Megan with a huge smile. ‘How are you feeling about the big performance?’

Carol forced a smile.

     ‘I can’t wait.’

     ‘I am feeling this piece, with every note, I fall deeper into it. Do you get what I mean?’

     ‘Of course.’

They talked about Beethoven and Brahms and went over the piece. Megan got out her violin and began to play one of her own compositions to Carol. Carol listened, and fingered the poison in her jacket pocket. When Megan went to the on-suite. Carol poured part of the poison into Megan’s water bottle. She didn’t mean to kill her, just to put her out of action.

     ‘Well Meg, I must be getting off.’

     ‘It was lovely to see you. Drop in with me before the big show.’

     ‘I will.’

They hugged and Carol slipped into the dark.

 

The poison worked. Just as Carol had planned. It didn’t kill Megan but it did make her ill. She was taken to hospital On the day before the performance. The conductor rang around.

     ‘Carol, it’s terrible, Megan has been taken ill, she won’t be able to perform. Can you step in for her. It’s too late to back out. We have a full house, the money has been spent, we will bankrupt the company if we pull out now. I am counting on you. Are you ready to play the solo?’

Carol quivered with glee. She had been practicing the solo all week.

     ‘Yes Seb, I think I can manage it.’

     ‘Well go to the dress makers today, I want you looking your best for the cameras. Buy whatever you want, I will reimburse you. What about nerves? Are you feeling ready for the light.’

     ‘I am ready Seb. You can count on me.’

     ‘I can’t thank you enough, you have saved us.’

     ‘Good bye Seb.’

 

Carol went straight to the dress shop and picked out a velvet blue silk. She paired it with blue shoes. And a dress jewel neckless that looked like diamonds and sapphires. It only had to fool them for one night. Its lustre would last. She was ready.

 

On the big night she strolled through the corridors before the stage like a princess. Everyone eyed her, and thanked her for stepping in. They knew the future of their jobs rested on her shoulders. She absorbed it all. It filled her with an energy she had longed for. She was the centre of it all, and had her place to the left of the conductor. The orchestra took their seats and began to tune and sound check their instruments. For the first time Carol wasn’t with them. She would be brought on separately along with the conductor. The opera house would watch her as she took her stand.

     She came out with Seb to a hall of cheers. Seb took his postion and raised his baton. And they were off. A surge of rich woodwind, followed by the strings, and then Carol alone. She played her part with a dark mesmerising force. The piece was jovial and yet her energy turned it from a concerto to a nocturne. The crowd felt it and sensed it if only in their subconscious. A danger emanated from her and the music evoked a tension and yet the feeling soothed them. As Carol played, her guilt sung out, and it was almost an apology for what she had done. The concerto rung on. And Carol’s first part was over.

 

The hall was well lit. Carol could see two figure wandering down the isles towards the stage. They wore black tactical vests. It was the police. And Carol sensed she had been caught. The police allowed her to play on. But she couldn’t. The presence of the police had broken the wall of confidence she had built and the room with all its eyes burnt her. She fell to the floor. The orchestra played on, for they had to. If they stopped the guests would ask for their money back. They played on and a stage hand led Carol to the dressing rooms. The police came swift and emotionless.

     ‘We are arresting you on a charge of murder…’

     ‘Murder?’ said Carol through her tears.

     ‘Murder, Megan died earlier today.’ 
 

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