Mary Ann and Miss Mozart by Ann Turnbull Read Free Book Online

Corelli
    Back at school, in the dormitory, it was different. Mary Ann’s friends had missed her, and worried about her, and no one knew why she had gone home so suddenly. When she told them her news, they surrounded her with all the sympathy and attention she had longed for at home.
    “But that’s terrible !” exclaimed Sophia.
    And even quiet Lucy said, “You can’t leave us. There must be something we can do.”
    They all gathered round and tried to comfort her, and that made Mary Ann cry again.
    “Mrs. Neave will help, surely?” said Phoebe.
    “No.” Mary Ann gulped back tears. She was certain that Mrs. Neave would not help, for how could anyone run a business at a loss?
    “I shall talk to Mrs. Corelli,” Sophia decided. “ She won’t want to lose you. You’re our best singer by far.”
    “And a good advertisement for the school,” Lucy pointed out.
    But they all knew Mrs. Corelli was only an employee and could have no say in the matter.
    “We’re such a friendly little group here,” Sophia said – making Mary Ann wail, “I know !” and cry even more – “I shall tell Mrs. Corelli that if you leave we might get some toad of a girl who can’t even sing …”
    No one had a solution, but their sympathy was comforting, and they even had some left over for Harriet, though they were not shocked to hear that George would remain at his school.
    “That is quite natural, Mary Ann,” said Sophia. “Your education cannot be considered as important as your brother’s.”
    “You can’t call that unfair,” agreed Phoebe.
    “You can ,” said Lucy, “but it will not help. It’s the way of the world, my mother says.”
    Everyone at school was kind. Mrs. Neave was especially concerned; and Jenny paused in her work to talk and sympathize.
    Mrs. Corelli was determined to look on the bright side.
    “You must put all this out of your mind for now, and concentrate on your work,” she said. “We have the September concert to prepare for—”
    “But I won’t be here in September!”
    Mrs. Corelli shook her head. “Now, Mary Ann, who knows what will happen? Your father’s fortunes may have improved by then. We must be ready. And you are my best soprano among the younger girls. Now, what did you intend to sing? An air of Galatea’s, wasn’t it? And anything else?”
    “Yes. Galatea. ‘As when the dove…’ I like that one. And ‘Nymphs and Shepherds’?”
    “The choir will sing ‘Nymphs and Shepherds’. You’ll be part of that.” (Mary Ann wished it were true.) “What about ‘When Daisies Pied and Violets Blue’ for a solo? That’s pretty, and would suit your voice. But first, let me hear the Galatea…”
    Mary Ann tried hard to think only of the music, to forget her troubles. She sang:
    “ As when the dove
    Laments her love
    All on the naked spray;
    When he returns
    No more she mourns
    But love the live-long day… ”
    Her voice broke on “mourns”, and spoiled what should have been the joyful crescendo of the next line. By the end of the song tears were streaming down her cheeks. “I won’t be here to sing it!” she wept.
    “But you must learn it!” insisted Mrs. Corelli. “How else can you be ready when occasion demands? If you are to be a performer, you must always be ready.”
    “My parents won’t allow me to be a singer,” said Mary Ann, determined to be sorry for herself.
    “Then they are probably wise,” Mrs. Corelli said. “It is a difficult choice, the stage, and very few succeed. Oh, Mary Ann! Your voice is quite gone with all this crying. Dry your tears, and come up to my room. I’ll make tea.”
    Mary Ann had always been curious to see inside the teachers’ private rooms, and she immediately felt more cheerful as she followed Mrs. Corelli upstairs to the second floor.
    Mrs. Corelli’s room was across the stairwell from the younger girls’ dormitory, and opposite Mrs. Neave’s suite. It was a fair size, but filled to overflowing with Mrs. Corelli’s