I wake to the sound of crows cawing and for a moment I wonder where I am. The room is in darkness due to the heavy blue curtains hanging over the window. I tune into the gentle sound of breathing. I click on my phone torch and turn my head. Stella is asleep, her arm flung over her face as if she is blinded by my light. A movement in the corner tells me Fiona is awake. It’s almost seven o’clock.
Je me réveille au son des corbeaux qui croassent et pendant un instant je me demande où je suis. La pièce est dans l'obscurité à cause des lourds rideaux bleus suspendus au-dessus de la fenêtre. J'écoute le doux bruit des respirations. Je clique sur la lampe de mon téléphone et tourne la tête. Stella est endormie, son bras jeté sur son visage comme si elle était aveuglée par ma lumière. Un mouvement dans le coin me dit que Fiona est réveillée. Il est presque sept heures.
What happened last night? Did we hear that pipe music or was it a dream? As if Fiona can read my mind she sits up and pads across the floor. She perches on the end of my bed.
"Do you think we should tell Nell about hearing the music," she whispers.
"Why shouldn’t we? You have to admit it’s a bit creepy."
"Rose, this whole place is a bit creepy. All those tunes linked to our names. This separation. Only five of us in this wing. And no means of communication to the outside world. I was supposed to phone my mum to tell her I’d arrived."
I nod. "Yeah, me too. "
"And what about that Cat? Not speaking. Her fancy green clothes. I’m sure she’s a Glaistig."
"That’s daft, Fiona. She only a couple of years older than us. Maybe she’s just shy. Maybe the outfit is her style."
"I don’t care what it is. I’m scared. I want to go home."
I grab her cold hand. "Don’t be scared," I say. "I’m a bit scared too, but we’re only here for a couple of days. If we all stick together then we’ll be fine."
"I’m not so sure. I think I’ll ask Nell if she can call me a taxi. I can catch the train home. Mum won’t mind."
"Why don’t you give it one more day? We’ll ask Nell if we can use a phone. I think I spotted a payphone by the front door when we arrived."
I see tears lingering on Fiona’s eyelashes. I hand her a hankie. "We’ll be fine if we all stick together."
She sniffs and her mouth twitches into a remnant of a smile. "Come on," I say. "I know breakfast isn’t till later but I’m starving. Shower first then food."
There is no sign of life from the boys’ room so I use their shower while Fiona uses the shower allocated to the girls. The bathroom is cold but at least the water is hot.
Fiona is dressed and untangling her long hair when I return to the dorm. I hang my damp towel over the end of my bed. Stella is still sleeping.
Light begins to stream through the corridor windows. I give the door at the end of the corridor a wary look but I forget it the minute I turn into the bright warm kitchen. Cat is stationed at the stove stirring a pot of porridge. The smell of fresh baked bread makes my belly rumble. Cat points to our places. There is marmalade to spread on the warm bread rolls and she hands us both a glass of fresh orange juice and pushes the rolls closer to our plates. We stare at the food not sure whether we can start without the others.
La lumière commence à se diffuser à travers les fenêtres du couloir. Je lance un regard méfiant à la porte du fond du couloir mais je l'oublie dès que je tourne pour rentrer dans la cuisine chaude et lumineuse. Cat se tient près de la cuisinière et remue du porridge dans une casserole. L'odeur du pain fraîchement cuit fait gargouiller mon ventre. Cat nous montre nos places. Il y a de la marmelade à tartiner sur les petits pains chauds et elle nous tend un verre de jus d'orange frais et rapproche les petits pains de nos assiettes. Nous regardons fixement la nourriture sans savoir si nous pouvons commencer sans les autres.
"Eat," she says. I almost spit my orange juice over her.
"You can speak?"
"Yes, Miss Rose MacLeod, when necessary."
Then she turns her back on us and attends to the porridge pot.
"Cat, can we use a phone?" I ask. "We all have to call our parents."
"There is no need for that."
Nell breezes into the room wearing running kit. "I called all your parents last night after you were settled in."
"Ce n'est pas nécessaire."
Nell entre dans la pièce en portant un ensemble de sport. "J'ai appelé tous vos parents la nuit dernière après votre installation."
"I want to go home," Fiona blurts out.
"Rubbish. You haven’t even started work yet. You’ll soon get over your homesickness once you begin to practise. Now, you girls are up early, so do not pester Cat with your questions. I’m just going out to run. Be ready with your coats on at 8.30 sharp. I have a surprise for you."
"N'importe quoi. Vous n’avez même pas encore commencé à travailler. Vous allez bientôt vous remettre de votre mal du pays une fois que vous aurez commencé à jouer. Maintenant, vous les filles, vous vous êtes levées tôt, alors n'embêtez pas Cat avec vos questions. Je sors juste pour courir. Soyez prêtes avec vos manteaux à 8h30 précises. J'ai une surprise pour vous."
It may be my imagination but each time Nell speaks Cat seems to bash the porridge pot around harder as if she doesn’t want to hear what Nell has to say. They’re a strange pair.
When the boys and Stella straggle in one by one Cat serves the porridge. She places a salt cellar on the table.
"Can we have milk and sugar too?" Rory asks.
I’m sure I see her roll her eyes in disapproval at this sacrilege to true porridge eating but she hands the milk and sugar over just the same.
At 8.25 we all stand in the kitchen wearing our outdoor clothes.
"Where do you think she’s taking us?" Allan asks.
"Anywhere away from here, I hope". Fiona says.
"It’s not that bad," Allan chirps. "That breakfast was amazing."
Neither of the boys nor Stella mention the tune in the night.
Nell arrives right on time.
"Now my lovely students. We are going to work very hard today but first I want you to see your performance area. The Golden Cave."
In the corridor we all turn towards the main house entrance, expecting to go that way.
"No!" A strange laugh escapes Nell’s lips. "This house has an entry way into the cave through the cellar."
Cat leans against the kitchen door jamb with her arms folded. She watches us through narrowed eyes, like a cat watching a mouse on the kitchen floor just before it pounces.
Nell slips the bolts top and bottom of the door at the end of the corridor then takes a key from her pocket and opens the lock. We all exchange looks. This is where the night music was coming from. I see Allan is about to say something but I put my hand on his arm and place a finger to my lips. I don’t know why I stop him, but my intuition tells me it would be wrong to ask Nell about the music just yet.
Nell fait glisser les verrous en haut et en bas de la porte au bout du couloir puis prend une clé dans sa poche et ouvre la serrure. Nous échangeons tous des regards. C'est de là que venait la musique de nuit. Je vois qu'Allan est sur le point de dire quelque chose mais je pose ma main sur son bras et place un doigt sur mes lèvres. Je ne sais pas pourquoi je l’arrête, mais mon intuition me dit que ce serait mal de demander à Nell pour la musique.
A blast of cold air hits us as the door opens followed by a smell I recognise. Rotting apples. My granddad has many apple trees and always gives us a big box full each harvest time. Mum shoves them in the cupboard under the stairs and forgets about them until we go there for the Christmas tree decorations. By then the apples have rotted to pulp. One year we will remember to eat them.
Nell clicks on a light and ushers us down wooden steps. The cellar is not as large as I expected for such a grand house. Maybe parts of it are blocked off. I shiver remembering the Edgar Allan Poe story, The Black Cat, about a woman blocked up in a cellar wall. Rows of boxes are piled high with a pathway left open, leading to another door roughly cut into a brick wall. There is dust everywhere as if the workmen have recently broken through the wall.
Nell appuie sur un interrupteur et nous fait descendre des marches en bois. La cave n'est pas aussi grande que je m'y attendais pour une si grande maison. Peut-être que certaines parties sont bloquées. Je frissonne en me souvenant de l'histoire d'Edgar Allan Poe, Le chat noir, à propos d'une femme bloquée dans un mur de la cave. Des rangées de boîtes sont empilées en hauteur et dessinent un chemin menant à une autre porte grossièrement découpée dans un mur de briques. Il y a de la poussière partout comme si les ouvriers avaient récemment percé le mur.
"Hey Nell," Allan says. "You haven’t given us a tune called Golden Cave yet?."
I know it’s a joke but I dig him in the back just the same.
"Very funny Allan. Maybe you could write one for us. When we get back."
Nell’s mouth holds a smile but her eyes are like steel. "I’m sure such a talented chap as you will have all the set music perfected in no time."
She lifts the latch on the second door and an even colder blast of air hits. She gropes her hand round the inside and flicks a light switch.
"Be careful with these steps."
Unlike the steps to the cellar, these steps are rough stone cut into a thirty metre rock face. There is a rope threaded through some iron hooks to form a shaky banister. And they are steep. My mouth dries like blotting paper and my heart races. I back into the cellar.
Elle soulève le loquet de la deuxième porte et un souffle d'air encore plus froid me frappe. Elle passe sa main à l'intérieur et appuie sur l'interrupteur.
"Soyez prudent avec ces marches."
Contrairement aux marches de la cave, ces marches sont taillées dans la pierre brute d'une paroi rocheuse de trente mètres. Il y a une corde enfilée à travers des crochets en fer pour former une rampe tremblante. Et elles sont raides. Ma bouche sèche comme du papier buvard et mon cœur bat la chamade. Je retourne dans la cave.
"Come Rose," Nell says."No hanging back."
"I can’t," I stutter.
"Just hold onto the rope," Nell insists.
"Wait!" Rory says. "she’s scared of heights."
He turns to me. "I’ll go first, hang onto my jacket if you like."
"I’ll be right behind you," Fiona whispers in my ear.
"And I’m right behind Fiona," Allan says. "And Stella might come if she can pull herself away from trying to find a phone signal."
I turn and see Stella holding her phone up to the cellar roof, waving it around.
"She’ll never give up", Allan says.
"Et je suis juste derrière Fiona", déclare Allan. "Et Stella pourrait venir si elle pouvait s'empêcher d'essayer de trouver un signal téléphonique."
Je me retourne et je vois Stella levant son téléphone vers le toit de la cave, et l'agitant.
"Elle n'abandonnera jamais", dit Allan.
Rory takes my hand, something he hasn’t done for a couple of years. I gulp back my fear. I grip the rope with my free hand.
"Some of the steps are soapy," Rory warns me. I pass the warning to Fiona and the message travels back along the line. At the bottom I let out my breath and look back the way I’ve come. How am I going to get back up there?
"It’s easier going back up," Fiona says reading my mind again. "Wow, look at this place."
The steps end in a dank cavern the size of an aircraft hangar. We must be deep inside the cave because there is no daylight and no water other than the drips falling from the domed ceiling. Every now and then a thick stalactite hangs down.
Les marches se terminent dans une caverne humide de la taille d'un hangar pour avions. Nous devons être profondément à l'intérieur de la grotte car il n'y a pas de lumière du jour et pas d'eau autre que les gouttes tombant du plafond en forme de dôme. De temps en temps, une stalactite épaisse pend.
Nell holds her arms out wide and whirls in circles and I‘m sure she’s going to burst into The Hills are Alive with the Sound of Music. She is such a drama queen.
"Isn’t this wonderful."
She reaches into her pocket and takes out a penny whistle. She pulls me towards her.
"Rose and I will sing A. Rory and Fiona sing F#, Stella and Allan sing D."
She plays an A and points at me. I hold the note with her. She plays an F# for Rory and Fiona. "You hold that," she instructs. Then she plays the D for Stella and Allan to hold. Our little voices singing that simple chord sound amazing. Not only are the acoustics perfect but the sound amplifies and echoes.
She lets us have a short breath then we begin to sing again. She throws in a simple three part melody that we copy and a lump rises in my chest at the beauty of the harmonies.
Elle nous laisse respirer un peu puis nous recommençons à chanter. Elle jette une simple mélodie en trois parties que nous copions et une boule monte dans ma poitrine devant la beauté des harmonies.
"Isn’t this wonderful," Nell says. Yes, yes, we all agree. Her face beams with joy. Her smile for once reaches those hard eyes.
"Are these acoustics the reason why we could hear Hector the Hero from our rooms?" I ask. And just like that Nell’s smile is wiped off her face. She whirls round and grabs my shoulder.
"Hector…Hector…What do you mean Hector the Hero?"
The others move in behind me. "Maybe I shouldn’t have said."
I look at Allan. I had stopped him mentioning it earlier. But he smiles. "Tell her."
"Last night, we heard it. Played on the bagpipes."
Nell takes her hand from my shoulder and places it at her throat as if she is being strangled."‘You heard it?" She shakes her head then smiles. "It would be coming from the other wing."
"No, it was coming from here."
"Don’t talk rubbish, Rose."
"It’s not rubbish," Stella says. "We all heard it and it was coming from here and we were going to come and have a look but Cat stopped us."
"Stop!" Nell’s shout reverberates round the cave. "I will have no more of this. It came from the other wing. And let me tell you."
She points a shaking finger at us. "They are much better than you. They practised last night. Did you? No, swanned off to bed without even tuning up. We have spent enough time here. You now know what your prize is for playing well."
She begins to walk away then turns and smiles. "Imagine how wonderful you will sound."
She seemed to have recovered from her fit. "Up those stairs and practise, practise, practise until your fingers and lips bleed."
She waved us to the stairs. "Go."
"Arrêtez!" Le cri de Nell résonne dans la grotte. "Je ne veux plus de cela! Cela venait de l'autre aile. Et laissez-moi vous dire."
Elle nous montre du doigt. "Ils sont bien meilleurs que vous. Ils ont répété la nuit dernière. Avez-vous répété? Non, je me suis couchée sans même que vos instruments aient été accordés. Nous avons passé assez de temps ici. Vous savez maintenant quel est le prix pour bien jouer."
Elle commence à s'éloigner puis se retourne et sourit. "Imaginez le son incroyable que vous allez produire".
Elle semblait avoir récupéré. "Montez ces escaliers et répétez, répétez, répétez jusqu'à ce que vos doigts et vos lèvres saignent."
Elle nous fit signe de la main dans les escaliers. "Allez".
"Are you not coming?" I ask.
Nell looks around her, her face seems to have aged twenty years. "No", she says. "I will stay here for a while."
Nell regarde autour d'elle, son visage semble avoir vieilli de vingt ans. "Non", dit-elle. "Je vais rester ici un moment."
Fiona is right, it is easier going up the steps, but I’m definitely not looking forward to returning for the performance.
Fiona a raison, c'est plus facile de remonter les marches mais je n'ai vraiment pas hâte de revenir pour la représentation.
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