his mates, probably here for just the cannon blasts. Then Dinah’s dad, arms folded, off to the side.
Maybe looking for Tim Bell?
But — good thing — no sign of Bell himself. Maybe he’d taken Alan’s advice and was being careful in his return to Cherringham.
At the end of a far row of seats, Jack now saw Henry Trask too. The fisherman sat forward in his chair, his body not moving, lost apparently in the music.
As Jack and Sarah got closer, it was as if the orchestra was accompanying their slow, relentless march to the front.
Jack looked up at the stage: the conductor, dressed in black tails, had his back to them. He was hunched over his score, swaying with the passion of the piece.
So that’s Rik Chase, thought Jack.
He watched the man’s baton carving the night air, his left hand imploring the orchestra to give more, more …
The horns blared out the triumphal music signalling that the explosions were close.
He looked back at Sarah who had spotted her kids. “Oh … there’s Daniel and Chloe.”
“Sarah, I can do this myself,” Jack said. “You’ve done plenty …”
A few people looked at them for talking during such a wonderful if loud moment.
Jack leaned closer. “I mean, you can go, be with your kids.”
But she shook her head.
“They’re all eyes and ears for this. They won’t miss me.”
She took a breath, and Jack realized how much everyone takes breathing air so much for granted.
Something a diver would never do.
It became harder for them to get close, and when they hit a sea of white folding VIP seats for those who’d paid for the privilege of sitting there, accompanied by a basket lunch and a spot of bubbly, Jack pointed to the right.
To where the cannons stood.
“Best make our way over there.”
Sarah turned to him, smiling, her voice loud in his ear even with the drums thumping out the martial rhythm.
“Near the cannons?”
Jack grinned back
So good to see that smile again, grounding her after her experience in the lake.
“We’ll plug our ears. I know when the blasts come.”
“Just tell me too, all right?”
And they moved left.
Towards King George’s Redcoats.
This, Jack thought, was going to be something.
*
Sarah watched the three cannon soldiers look at them as they stepped over the ribbon that separated the audience area from the big guns.
One soldier with a pointed tricorn hat, the General of the group, looked as if he was about to say something.
But Jack raised a finger, pointed to the back area away from the cannon, and the General — as if understanding — nodded.
And besides, even Sarah could see that the moment was close.
As they passed, two of the soldiers shifted, one holding chains that led from the cannons, another a long stick with a bulb-like end.
She heard the General say, loud enough to be heard over the finale racing to its finish.
“Cannon officers — at the ready.”
“Yes, sir.”
“On my signal.”
Sarah could hardly keep walking ahead, her eyes glued to the scene of the cannon being readied.
Then she heard trilling trumpets, followed by violins, the music rising and plummeting.
“Ready?” Jack said.
He stuck his fingers in his ears, and Sarah did as well.
One cannon blasted. Then the second. Then, a wave of plunging violins as if falling into space, spinning away from the planet.
On stage she saw Rik, his body silhouetted against the lights, both arms flying.
The soldiers hurried to reload, the bulb-like implement stuffing all the barrels with new gunpowder.
“Officers!” the general said.
And now the horns stood up.
Somewhere church bells rang.
God, Sarah thought, it’s overwhelming .
The sound huge . A sea of noise.
The cannon soldiers standing ready, tense for the finale, all cannons reloaded.
Jack had taken his fingers out; she followed suit.
His smile was as big as the sound.
More movement from the soldiers. Jack’s fingers went back in.
Then drums began thumping, the blasts
Maybe looking for Tim Bell?
But — good thing — no sign of Bell himself. Maybe he’d taken Alan’s advice and was being careful in his return to Cherringham.
At the end of a far row of seats, Jack now saw Henry Trask too. The fisherman sat forward in his chair, his body not moving, lost apparently in the music.
As Jack and Sarah got closer, it was as if the orchestra was accompanying their slow, relentless march to the front.
Jack looked up at the stage: the conductor, dressed in black tails, had his back to them. He was hunched over his score, swaying with the passion of the piece.
So that’s Rik Chase, thought Jack.
He watched the man’s baton carving the night air, his left hand imploring the orchestra to give more, more …
The horns blared out the triumphal music signalling that the explosions were close.
He looked back at Sarah who had spotted her kids. “Oh … there’s Daniel and Chloe.”
“Sarah, I can do this myself,” Jack said. “You’ve done plenty …”
A few people looked at them for talking during such a wonderful if loud moment.
Jack leaned closer. “I mean, you can go, be with your kids.”
But she shook her head.
“They’re all eyes and ears for this. They won’t miss me.”
She took a breath, and Jack realized how much everyone takes breathing air so much for granted.
Something a diver would never do.
It became harder for them to get close, and when they hit a sea of white folding VIP seats for those who’d paid for the privilege of sitting there, accompanied by a basket lunch and a spot of bubbly, Jack pointed to the right.
To where the cannons stood.
“Best make our way over there.”
Sarah turned to him, smiling, her voice loud in his ear even with the drums thumping out the martial rhythm.
“Near the cannons?”
Jack grinned back
So good to see that smile again, grounding her after her experience in the lake.
“We’ll plug our ears. I know when the blasts come.”
“Just tell me too, all right?”
And they moved left.
Towards King George’s Redcoats.
This, Jack thought, was going to be something.
*
Sarah watched the three cannon soldiers look at them as they stepped over the ribbon that separated the audience area from the big guns.
One soldier with a pointed tricorn hat, the General of the group, looked as if he was about to say something.
But Jack raised a finger, pointed to the back area away from the cannon, and the General — as if understanding — nodded.
And besides, even Sarah could see that the moment was close.
As they passed, two of the soldiers shifted, one holding chains that led from the cannons, another a long stick with a bulb-like end.
She heard the General say, loud enough to be heard over the finale racing to its finish.
“Cannon officers — at the ready.”
“Yes, sir.”
“On my signal.”
Sarah could hardly keep walking ahead, her eyes glued to the scene of the cannon being readied.
Then she heard trilling trumpets, followed by violins, the music rising and plummeting.
“Ready?” Jack said.
He stuck his fingers in his ears, and Sarah did as well.
One cannon blasted. Then the second. Then, a wave of plunging violins as if falling into space, spinning away from the planet.
On stage she saw Rik, his body silhouetted against the lights, both arms flying.
The soldiers hurried to reload, the bulb-like implement stuffing all the barrels with new gunpowder.
“Officers!” the general said.
And now the horns stood up.
Somewhere church bells rang.
God, Sarah thought, it’s overwhelming .
The sound huge . A sea of noise.
The cannon soldiers standing ready, tense for the finale, all cannons reloaded.
Jack had taken his fingers out; she followed suit.
His smile was as big as the sound.
More movement from the soldiers. Jack’s fingers went back in.
Then drums began thumping, the blasts
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