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giggle.
    She felt light headed at the thought of who she may become within the next few days!
    â€œ Miss Harrietta Reed, pianist and member of the Eddie Bragg Orchestra !”

CHAPTER THREE
    Henrietta frowned as she leafed through her gowns. Most of them seemed too girlish for a performer.
    In the end she picked out a plain rose-coloured silk, to be matched with an ermine cape and long white gloves.
    At the arranged time she entered the dining room.
    Twenty pairs of eyes followed her as she walked to the dais, where Eddie was waiting for her.
    She suddenly felt very shy as he gently turned her around to face the members of the orchestra, who lounged silently on their chairs below.
    â€œGentlemen,” he announced. “Here is our saviour, Miss Harrietta Reed, pianiste extraordinaire !”
    â€œThat will remain to be seen,” muttered one.
    â€œOr rather heard,” said another, a bald man who sat before a kettle drum.
    This was just the kind of reception Henrietta had expected and her spirits sank.
    â€œBe not of faint heart,” whispered Eddie.
    Henrietta sat down on the piano stool whilst Eddie positioned some music sheets before her.
    â€œYou can sight-read, I presume?” he asked.
    â€œOf course,” replied Henrietta meekly.
    â€œI’ll turn the pages. Okay. Shoot.”
    She laid trembling fingers on the keys and began to play.
    Though her eyes were fully focused on the music displayed before her, Henrietta was still acutely aware of the critical gaze of her audience. She could not relax and soon she was stumbling over her notes.
    She raised desperate eyes to Eddie and he held up his hand at once for her to stop.
    â€œI don’t think the dame is quite right for us, Eddie,” called out the clarinet player.
    Eddie frowned and took the music from the stand.
    â€œI-I’m sorry,” stammered Henrietta quietly.
    She half rose, but Eddie waved her down again.
    â€œWhy don’t you just play something you know and love, like you did last night? This stuff is new to you and needs practice. Show ’em what you can really do, huh?”
    Henrietta hesitated.
    â€œGo on,” urged Eddie. “You can do it.”
    Henrietta thought a moment and then began to play a French air that her mother had taught her.
    Her fingers fluttered lightly over the keys like birds in flight. She began to sway to the sounds that emerged melodiously from the piano.
    Soon she forgot where she was eyes closed, she was transported to a dew-drenched garden under the moon. A tall figure came forward from the shadows the figure of a man, with aquiline features and dark, brooding eyes, his hair black as a raven’s wing.
    â€˜ How strange ,’ she thought dreamily. She did not recognise the gentleman at all.
    The music flowed and as it neared the end, it rose into a trill of delicate notes like birdsong at dawn.
    Henrietta opened her eyes on the final flourish.
    She waited, head lowered, for the verdict.
    â€œBravo!” called a voice from the dining room floor.
    Suddenly the whole of the orchestra were clapping. She looked up, astonished, and could see Eddie beaming.
    â€œYou’ve done it, Miss Reed,” he cried.
    â€œI-I have?”
    â€œSure.”
    He held out his hand to her.
    â€œWelcome to the Eddie Bragg Orchestra.”
    â€œW-what happens now?” she asked.
    â€œWe rehearse!”
    Henrietta spent the morning rehearsing with the rest of musicians. Now she was more confident, soon mastering the melodies for which the Eddie’s orchestra was famous.
    After the rehearsal finished Eddie introduced her to the individual musicians.
    Trescot, the trumpeter, looked her up and down.
    â€œThat’s a pretty outfit, but shouldn’t she be wearing something a little more eye-catching for the performance?”
    Eddie pondered.
    â€œMiss Reed, what else have you brought with you?”
    â€œI don’t have anything more suitable than this,”