Fearful Symmetry Read Online Free PDF

had allowed him to move back in but not to sleep with her because she needed her own space (her version). Seeing his children grow steadily more listless as the weeks of their separation went by, Andrew had given in to her demand that they try again, although he would take the spare room because he did not want to sleep with her (his). Like lots of couples, they were learning how to be kinder to one another. They had allowed themselves to grow apart, and Andrew’s cello lessons with Sara Selkirk were not and never had been the real problem. It was more a question of cultivating some shared interests and having fun together (theirs).
    It was the new, fun-seeking Valerie who had signed them both up for the Circus Opera Group. ‘I’ve signed us up. They said singers and instrumentalists are welcome and no audition is necessary.’
    ‘I hate musicals,’ Andrew had said, lapsing into the style of the old regime, ‘and I won’t sing.’
    ‘It’s not a musical, it’s an opera. A community opera. And you won’t be singing. I’ll sing and you’ll play your cello. It’ll be fun.’
    Although it was a novelty to have Valerie not openly resentful about his cello-playing, the words ‘community opera’ were almost enough to send him running. He needed neither a community nor an opera, he needed only as much nineteenth-century cello repertoire as he could lay his hands on and time to play it. And Sara. But he knew that there could be no defence against the imperative that he and Valerie have fun. At the same time he calculated that he could use his working hours as a reason to keep himself safely away from most of the rehearsals. ‘As long as I don’t have to sing, then,’ he’d said.
    Valerie was now a ‘key member’ of the Circus Opera Group and frequently referred to Sara as Andrew’s ‘little blip’. Andrew had grown accustomed to locking his teeth together and allowing her to, calculating that the breezier Valerie became about Sara, the easier it would be for him to carry on seeing her, of course only for lessons, once she was back. It had even been Valerie’s suggestion that Sara might be able to recommend somebody to compose the community opera. ‘Isn’t she supposed to know everyone? I’m sure you could persuade her to find us a nice young composer.’
    Reluctantly, Andrew had mentioned it, just as Sara was leaving for the six-week block of engagements which was just ending. ‘Well, yes, I do know people, but I thought the community was supposed to compose it,’ she said. ‘Look, I’m packing. I’ll give it some thought.’ Until last night, that was the last time he had spoken to her. He turned a page of the newspaper.
    ‘Has she done anything about a composer?’ Valerie asked, as if she had been tracking his brain. She was buttering toast viciously, as if trying to get something off it. ‘The group’s starting up again tonight, remember. It’s getting desperate now.’ The group had spent the three months before its summer break on part-songs and squabbles about the theme of the putative opera. Opinion was divided on whether it should be about Jane Austen or about the Romans and the hot springs. Andrew’s contribution to the debate had been to point out that for one thing Jane Austen had disliked Bath and for another he hoped nobody seriously expected him to play the cello ponced up in a toga.
    ‘I’m sure she has,’ Andrew answered, without lowering the paper. ‘I didn’t ask. We didn’t chat, once I pointed out the time.’
    He turned another page. ‘She just rang to ask me to send a PC to check that Medlar Cottage was okay. Got herself in a state about possibly coming home to a burgled house,’ he lied.
    He looked at his watch. It was nearly eight o’clock. He had another twelve hours in which he had to act normally.
    ‘And it was handy, in a way, her ringing. She knows the people who live above the Bevan woman. They’re away, and of course we want to interview all the