Chapter 4Gethin
It was a terrible orchestra. Gethin hadn’t been a fabulous horn player even when he practised regularly; and he hadn’t played at all in the last decade. But even he could tell that they were a collection of musicians—and he used the term loosely—who were here for fun rather than to work on their technical skills.
It made him feel slightly less awkward. He’d been worried that he was going to make an i***t of himself. Instead, he’d plonked himself down between the small girl with the large tuba and Martin the trumpet player and concentrated really, really hard.
Working on a piece of music was a bit like working on a client spreadsheet. All the separate notes meant something in the way each individual spreadsheet cell did. And then you put them together and they made someth
