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Her left hand encircled her right wrist protectively, chin up, eyes still glittering ‘Yes’

‘Who is he?’

‘Was’

She o back to the piano She closed the lid over the keys like so a conversationor a coffin A shiver scuttled over the back of Jas of a spooked spider ‘He’s dead,’ she said

‘I’m sorry’

She gave a shrug but he couldn’t decide if it was a ‘thank you’ or ‘I don’t need your sympathy’ one

‘Who was he?’

Her eyesemotion A curtain was drawn A shutter was down ‘He was a friend I had once A childhood friend’

‘What happened to him?’

Her gaze ain ‘Do you play a musical instrument?’

The swift change of subject alerted hireat pains to conceal He was intrigued by her shadow self The side he had seen last night when she had sprung up from that sofa with her fists at the ready The side of her he briefly gli herNo one rote music like that could possibly be cold and indifferent, without feeling and depth But, rather than push her, he decided to leave it For now

‘I’m afraid I didn’t inherit my mother’s musical ability I’m sure it was a bitter disappointment to her I think she would’ve liked me to be a virtuoso of some sort’

She pushed the hood back off her cloud of tousled hair to face hiive up her career’

James studied her expression for a moment ‘She told you about that?’