‘Don’t be silly, your date will be so glamorous.’ Isabella shook her head and sighed. ‘Though mine is romantic, isn’t it? Jake and I shall stroll on the boardwalk, arm in arm. We shall eat Nathan’s hot dogs. We shall ride the Cyclone!’
‘Uh-huh, so you have an excuse to scream and hang on to his neck.’
Isabella gave her a suggestive smile. ‘What else is a rollercoaster for? Ah!’ She gave a shriek of delight as a knock rattled the door of their room. ‘Here he is!’
Here, as a matter of fact, were both of them, though they obviously hadn’t planned to arrive together. Ranjit and Jake stood awkwardly, as far apart as they could reasonably be, their body language screaming their discomfort. As Isabella flung the door wide, their relief was palpable.
‘Hey, gorgeous.’ Jake’s stiff expression melted into a huge grin as he swung Isabella in his arms. ‘You look terrific!’
‘Do not sound so surprised!’ She kissed him with shameless enthusiasm. ‘Shall we go and be tourists?’
‘I am dying to be a tourist in my own city. Even if I can’t take you somewhere expensive,’ he muttered, with a slightly resentful glance at Ranjit’s tuxedo.
‘Hey! Just being with you is priceless!’ Isabella punched his arm.
Meanwhile, Cassie found she couldn’t meet Ranjit’s eyes. She made herself clasp her fingers just to stop herself fiddling with her dress. Oh, God. What if she’d got this horribly wrong? What if he was embarrassed to be seen with her? What if …
His shoes were right there, though, so she had to look up and smile at him. That was when she knew it would be OK. His expression was one of startled awe, and there was even a hint of crimson in his dark cheekbones.
‘Cassie.’ He drew in a long breath, and shyly offered a yellow rose. ‘You look … beautiful.’
‘You too,’ she blurted before she could stop herself. It was true, though. The tux must have been hand-made for him, perfectly fitted to his lithe body. She swore she could make out the lines of his muscles under the expensive fabric.
‘Well, you guys.’ Jake was clutching Isabella’s hand, hesitating at the doorway and clearly desperate to leave. ‘Have a good time.’
Ranjit cleared his throat. ‘You too. Enjoy yourselves.’
Isabella was stifling laughter. ‘Happy Valentine’s Day,’ she mouthed at Cassie. Then Jake was pulling her out of the room, the door swung shut, and they were gone.
Ranjit released a huge sigh of relief, and Cassie giggled.
‘Cassandra Bell,’ he grinned. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
It wasn’t a long ride by yellow cab, but Ranjit insisted they couldn’t walk – ‘not in those fantastic shoes’ – even though Cassie would have liked the fresh winter air. She only realised they had a deadline when the cab was pulling up on the corner of 57th Street and Seventh Avenue.
‘Oh my God,’ she breathed as she stepped out of the cab. ‘I’m at Carnegie Hall.’
‘How do you get to Carnegie Hall?’ smiled Ranjit. ‘Practise, practise …’
She giggled as she took his arm. ‘That’s a terrible joke.’
‘That’s a really old joke.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘We’d better take our seats. Come on.’
Cassie would have been happy sitting behind a pillar in the back row of the balcony, but they were guided to a box on the first tier, right at the front and overlooking the stage directly. It was such an exposed position she would have felt quite self-conscious, if it hadn’t been for Ranjit’s comforting hand in hers.
Then the curtain rose and she was instantly swept away by the music. Funny, she’d never heard anything by Richard Strauss in her life, and barely a note by Tchaikovsky or Beethoven, but straight away the music felt as if it belonged to her alone. Mesmerised, she was only vaguely aware of Ranjit’s glances in her direction, but her senses sprang into overdrive when his fingertips stroked her hand. Crazily, tears pricked at her eyelids and she blinked them back. It would be stupid to cry, when she felt happier than she had in as long as she could remember.
Still, too many feelings were coming alive. She couldn’t do anything to stop it, and she didn’t want to. She was supremely aware of everything: the warmth of Ranjit’s hand and the sharp tingle of her own nerves in response; the music, overwhelming her brain and her emotions, every single instrumental part sounding distinct in her head but every one harmonious with the next. She could taste the warmth and scent of the audience, breathing out and in, some of them occasionally holding their breath until the music made them release it in a rushing exhalation. She could hear the people as well as she could hear the music: the breathing, the rustle of silk and the occasional squeak of a leather shoe, the creak as someone shifted in a seat; the scrape of a bow across strings, the feathery whisper as a page of music was turned.
So it was inevitable that she’d feel a gaze if it was focused on her.
She was being watched. She knew it quite suddenly. Her forehead prickled with the stare, and for the first time she forgot the orchestra, forgot the soaring thunder of the music. When she lifted her own gaze, she knew the exact direction and she found the watcher immediately.
Shock hit her so hard she was left breathless. Across the auditorium, in the opposite box to their own, four girls sat. She knew them all: three sixth formers from the Academy, all Few. The superior Sara was one of them; Cassie didn’t know the names of the two on either side of her, only that they’d never been friendly.