Yours sincerely,
CATHERINE WESTON.
Catherine thought: If I can make use of George Trant to further my ambitions, why shouldn’t I? If this leads to anything in the way of bettering my earnings or getting engagements to play at concerts, it will be no more than what George Trant owes me. And if this is merely a trap laid for me, we’ll see who’s the more astute this time. In any case it should lead to some interesting situations, and it will at least vary the monotony of life....
It suddenly struck her that perhaps her father would come and hear her play. The possibility opened up wild speculations. Her dramatic interest pictured him rising from his seat in the middle of the Concert Study in A flat, and crying with arm uplifted—“God!—My daughter!”
Or perhaps he would sob loudly and bury his head in his hands.
Yet, remembering their meeting in the railway carriage, she knew he would do nothing of the sort....
... The audience would sit spell-bound as the Concert Study rang out its concluding chords. As the last whispered echo died on the air the whole building would ring with shouts of tumultuous applause. Those nearest the front would swarm on to the platform, seizing her hand in congratulation. A buzz of conversation would go round, startled, awe-stricken conversation: “Who is that red-haired girl?—Who is she?—Plays at the theatre?—Oh, surely not. Impossible!”
They would demand an encore. She would play Chopin’s Study, “Poland is Lost.”
And the Bockley and District Advertiser would foam at the headline with: “Musical Discovery at Upton Rising. Masterful playing by local pianiste....”
No, no, all that was absurd....