had no time to prepare.”
“Yep, one hot mess,” Ben replied. “But at least we get some percussion action.”
That’s not the only action I want today…
“Are you wearing a different perfume?” Ben asked, rubbing the drumstick round and round the drum in front of Vanessa, in a manner she hoped was suggestive.
“Yes. I’m surprised you noticed.”
“Why?”
“Just…you know… I didn’t think you were in the habit of…sniffing me.” She smirked, avoiding his eyes.
He moved closer.
“Actually, I am. You reward a good deep sniff.”
She had no idea what to say to that. All she could do was stand stock still, quivering slightly, while his nose dropped lower and lower…
Then Leonard tapped the podium with his baton and they straightened back up, shaking out of their dangerous trance.
For the next couple of hours, Vanessa tried to dismiss the hazy, sensual hangover Ben had induced in her. The Holst was fun for both of them—she got to give the kettledrums a proper hammering, while Ben went to town on the xylophone and, by the end of the rehearsal, both were panting as if they’d performed a workout.
They looked at each other and laughed.
“This is what it’s all about.” Ben grinned.
“Did you have to be so loud?” The new harpist’s enquiry was laden with ennui and disgust.
“Well, yes. I believe the direction in the score is fortissimo .” Vanessa hadn’t taken to Sarah Latimer, and her response was accordingly frosty.
“You’ve damaged my eardrums, I’m sure.” She picked up her bag and stalked out.
Ben and Vanessa looked at each other and made faces, their lips rounded into ‘ooh!’ shapes.
“Get her,” said Ben, picking up an imaginary handbag and clutching it to his chest. “Silly moo.”
Vanessa laughed.
“Do you have to rush off?” Ben asked, so casually that Vanessa sensed at once that her answer was important to him.
She glanced over at Lydia, who was putting her violin back in its case with a doleful air.
“I should go and talk to Lydia. Take her out for a coffee or something.”
But Lydia left the room with Leonard, the pair of them deep in conference, presumably on matters Milan-related.
“I guess not,” she amended, turning to Ben with a wary smile.
“Great,” he said. “Something I want to show you.”
She raised her eyebrows, but his only elaboration was to rub his hands together and tilt his head.
“Where might this thing be?”
“Follow me and all will be revealed.”
Ben strode off ahead, grabbing the scarf he wore, regardless of the warm season, from its peg before leaving the hall.
Vanessa, trotting along at his heels, had no idea what to expect. Was this thing in the building or outside it, in a private or a public place? Excitement clutched at her heart, squeezing it into a tight ball of anticipation.
Just before the main doors, Ben took a sharp right, leading her down a staircase that went, as far as she knew, nowhere except to a basement storage area.
“Why are we going down here?”
“Patience! Courage, mon brave .”
“Is that supposed to be a French accent?”
“No.”
“Good, because it was nothing like one.”
Their good-natured teasing ended at the foot of the stairs, in an unlit and dusty corridor.
“Okay, now I’m wondering…” said Vanessa.
“Follow me. It’s a bit dark—tread carefully.”
“Ugh, there aren’t mice down here, are there?”
“Almost certainly.”
Ben led her down the brick-walled corridor until he reached a door near its end, which he pushed open. He snapped on a light then turned around before she could enter.
“Close your eyes,” he said.
“No way! There could be anything in there.”
“Oh, come on. I’ll cover them if you don’t.”
He moved up behind her and placed his hands over her eyes. The warmth and size of his hands on her skin made her want to sigh. He smelt of antibacterial soap and mints.
She made no effort to remove the welcome blinkers, stepping before
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley