Chapter Twelve
Raven had been to some truly hellish rehearsals in her career.
She'd dealt with bass players so drunk they couldn't remember their own names, drummers who'd shown up four hours late, and that one memorable tour where Alissa had decided mid-soundcheck that she was going to "reinvent the setlist as performance art. "
But none of it, absolutely none of it, had prepared her for the chaos that was a primary school fundraiser rehearsal.
"Children!" Gloria bellowed from the front of the school hall, her arms spread wide like she was conducting an orchestra rather than wrangling twenty-eight eight-year-olds. "We must feel the music! Feel it in our souls!"
One of the kids picked his nose.
Another was lying flat on the floor for no apparent reason.
"From the top!" Gloria commanded. "And this time, with passion!"
Raven leaned against the back wall, arms crossed, and contemplated faking an emergency. A small fire, maybe. Nothing dangerous, just enough smoke to evacuate the building.
The children launched into the song she'd rewritten for them. Badly. Off-key didn't begin to describe it. It was as if they'd decided to perform in seventeen different keys simultaneously, none of which being the correct one.
"Stop, stop, STOP!" Gloria threw up her hands. "Posture, children! Stand tall! Project from the diaphragm!"
"They're eight," Raven muttered under her breath.
Arty, who was up a ladder doing something complicated with stage lights, chuckled. "Welcome to amateur theater."
"I didn't agree to this."
"Pretty sure you did. I was there."
Raven scowled. He wasn't wrong, but that didn't make her feel any better about it.
"Now," Gloria was saying, "I've choreographed a simple dance to accompany the second verse. Nothing too complicated. Watch me."
What followed could only be described as interpretive dance meets seizure. Gloria twirled, swooped, and made grand sweeping gestures that had absolutely nothing to do with the rhythm of the song.
"Is she serious?" Raven asked.
"As a heart attack," Arty confirmed.
"We're doomed."
The children attempted to copy Gloria's movements, which resulted in a chaotic mess of flailing limbs and confused faces. One boy crashed directly into a girl, sending them both tumbling to the floor. Someone got a nose bleed.
"Artistic!" Gloria cried. "But perhaps with more control next time!"
Raven closed her eyes and counted to ten. Then twenty. Then gave up counting entirely and just focused on her breathing.
This was fine. Everything was fine. She'd agreed to help with one song. One. Single. Song. She'd show up, make sure they didn't embarrass themselves too badly, and then she'd go back to her cottage and her guitars and her blessed solitude.
No emotional investment required.
"Miss?" A small voice piped up from the group. "I don't understand the twirly bit."
"The twirly bit is about the joy of literature!" Gloria explained, demonstrating again with even more enthusiasm. "You're meant to embody the wonder of books!"
The child looked more confused than ever.
Raven pinched the bridge of her nose. This was going to be a very long afternoon.
"Alright, everyone!" Annabelle's voice rang out, bright and cheerful as always. She'd been helping Nina organize costume pieces in the corner, but now she clapped her hands together to get everyone's attention. "Let's take a quick break. Water and snacks in the back."
The children scattered immediately, chaos giving way to slightly more organized chaos as they descended on the snack table.
Raven stayed where she was, watching Gloria consult what appeared to be hand-drawn costume sketches. Arty climbed down from his ladder and joined her against the wall.
"You look like you're contemplating murder," he observed.
"I'm contemplating several murders."
"Fair enough." He pulled a thermos from his toolkit and poured himself some tea. "How long's it been since you worked with kids?"
"Never. I've never worked with kids."
"Really? Not even workshops or school visits?"
"I've spent the last fifteen years in recording studios and on tour buses. The closest I've come to children is signing autographs for teenagers outside venues." Raven paused. "And those teenagers were mostly terrifying."
Arty laughed. "They're not so bad once you get used to them. Kids, I mean. They're honest, at least. They'll tell you straight if they think something's rubbish."
"Comforting."
Raven's gaze drifted across the room, catching on a small figure sitting alone on the edge of the stage. He was hunched over, arms wrapped around his knees, staring at nothing in particular.
She'd noticed him earlier during the rehearsal, he'd been mouthing the words but barely singing, going through the motions. Now he just looked… sad.
Raven frowned. It wasn't her business. She was here to help with the song, not play counselor to unhappy eight-year-olds.
Except the kid looked really miserable.
And he was sitting all alone while everyone else was laughing and eating snacks and having a perfectly nice time.
"Bollocks," Raven muttered.
"What?"
"Nothing." She pushed off from the wall and crossed the room before she could talk herself out of it.
He didn't look up as she approached, even when she sat down on the stage beside him, far enough away not to crowd him, close enough that he'd know she was there.
"Not hungry?" she asked.
He shook his head.
"Fair enough. Those biscuits look pretty questionable."
That got a tiny smile, so small she might have imagined it.
They sat in silence for a moment. Raven had absolutely no idea what she was doing. Small talk wasn't her strong suit at the best of times, and talking to children was a completely foreign concept.
"What’s your name?" she tried.
"Jamie."
"I'm Raven."
"I know." His voice was barely above a whisper. "You're famous."
"That's one word for it."
Another silence. This was going great. Really stellar. She should probably just leave him alone.
Except he looked so bloody miserable.
"You don't seem very excited about the performance," Raven said carefully.
Jamie shrugged. "S'okay, I guess."
"Just okay?"
"I don't really like singing in front of people."
"Yeah, I can understand that."
He glanced at her, surprised. "But you're a singer. You do it all the time."
"Doesn't mean I liked it at first. Still don't, sometimes." Raven leaned back on her hands. "Performing's weird. You're up there being vulnerable in front of hundreds of strangers. It's terrifying."
"Really?"
"Really. First time I ever played in front of an audience, I was sixteen and I nearly threw up backstage."
"Did you?"
"No, but it was close." She paused. "Still went on though. Because once you're up there and the music starts… it's worth it."
Jamie considered this. "I don't think I'll like it."
"That's alright. You don't have to like everything."
He looked at her again, something shifting in his expression. Like he'd expected her to tell him he was wrong, that he'd definitely enjoy it, that he just needed to try harder, all the things adults usually said.
"My mum and dad are fighting a lot," he said suddenly.
Raven went very still. Oh no. Absolutely not. She was not equipped for this conversation.
"That's…" She scrambled for something appropriate to say. "That's rough."
"Yeah." Jamie pulled his knees in tighter. "They fight about everything now. Dad's sleeping in the spare room."
Raven had no idea how to respond to that. Her expertise was in writing breakup songs and drinking too much wine, not comforting children whose parents were having marital problems.
"I'm sorry," she said finally, because it seemed like the only thing she could say. "That must be really hard."
Jamie nodded miserably.
They sat there in awkward silence. Raven glanced across the room.
Annabelle was chatting with Nina, probably discussing costume logistics or snack rotations or whatever impossibly cheerful teachers discussed.
She'd know what to say. She'd probably give Jamie a hug and tell him something wise and comforting and make him feel better.
Raven, meanwhile, was completely out of her depth.
Then she saw her guitar case propped against the wall.
"Hey," she said. "You want to learn something?"
Jamie looked up. "What?"
"Guitar. Basic chords. Might take your mind off things for a bit."
His eyes widened. "Really?"
"Why not? I've got twenty minutes before Gloria starts screaming about artistic vision again."
For the first time since she'd sat down, Jamie actually smiled. "Yeah, alright then."
Raven retrieved her guitar and settled back beside him. She positioned it across his lap and showed him how to hold it properly, adjusting his small fingers on the neck.
"This is E minor," she said, pressing his fingers into position. "One of the easier ones to start with."
Jamie concentrated fiercely, his tongue poking out slightly as he tried to copy her positioning.
"Now strum."
He did. The sound that came out was… well, it was terrible. But his face lit up like she'd just shown him magic.
"I did it!"
"You did. Here, try G next."
For the next twenty minutes, Raven taught him the basics. He wasn’t a child genius. But he wasn’t bad.
And he was smiling.
"You're a natural," Raven said.
"Really?"
"Absolutely. Give it a few years of practice and you'll be better than me."
Jamie beamed at her.
Across the room, Raven felt someone watching. She glanced up to find Annabelle standing near the snack table, looking at her with an expression that Raven couldn't quite read. Something warm and soft and entirely too much.
Their eyes met. Something passed between them. Understanding, maybe? Recognition? Raven didn't know, couldn't name it, didn't want to examine it too closely.
She looked away quickly, focusing back on Jamie's fingers on the fretboard.
"Right," she said, more gruffly than intended. "Let's try that G chord one more time."
THE REST OF the rehearsal was both better and worse. Better because Gloria had exhausted herself with the choreography disaster and was slightly less manic. Worse because Raven was now uncomfortably aware of Annabelle's presence in the room.
Every time she glanced up, it seemed like Annabelle was there. She was everywhere, bright and warm and impossible to ignore.
It was deeply annoying.
By the time Gloria finally called an end to rehearsal, Raven's patience was worn to a thread. She packed up her guitar with more force than strictly necessary while children scattered in all directions and parents began arriving for pickup.
"Raven!"
She turned to find Jamie running up to her, his face still lit with that smile.
"Thanks for teaching me," he said breathlessly. "That was really cool."
"No problem, kid."
"Can we do it again sometime?"
Raven hesitated. But he was looking at her with so much hope.
"Maybe," she said. "We'll see."
"Cool," Jamie grinned and ran off to find his mother.
Raven watched him go, then slung her guitar case over her shoulder and headed for the exit. She was almost there when Arty appeared at her side.
"That was nice," he said. "What you did with Jamie."
"It was nothing."
"Didn't look like nothing."
Raven didn't respond. They walked in silence through the school corridor and out into the car park, where the autumn evening was already drawing in.
"So," Arty said casually, "how's the love life?"
Raven stopped walking. "Excuse me?"
"Just making conversation."
"Well, don't."
"Touchy subject?"
"Non-existent subject." Raven resumed walking. "I'm not dating. Not interested."
"Sworn off women entirely, have you?"
"Basically."
"Shame."
"Why is it a shame?"
Arty shrugged. "You seem like you could use some company. And I don't mean the guitar-teaching kind."
"I have plenty of company. I have Gloria screeching at children and Annabelle turning up at my door with baked goods and half the village trying to adopt me into their committees. That's more than enough human interaction for a lifetime."
"If you say so."
They reached the edge of the car park. Arty's van was parked near the gates; Raven had walked from her cottage.
"I'm fine alone," Raven said firmly. "Better than fine. Alone is exactly what I came here for."
"Right." Arty pulled his keys from his pocket. "Well, good luck with that."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing at all." He grinned infuriatingly. "See you at the next rehearsal, Raven."
He climbed into his van and drove off, leaving Raven standing in the car park feeling oddly unsettled.
She pulled her jacket tighter and headed home, deliberately not thinking about sunshine smiles or the way Annabelle's whole face lit up when she was excited about something.
Nope.
Not thinking about that in the slightest.