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Music School

by Neil Van Carpenter

136 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #04-0437; ISBN 1-4120-2609-1; US$16.00, C$17.79, EUR13.00, £9.00

The highly emotional story of Jenny Wilson, a thirteen year old violinist whose world of daydreams is shattered when she is sent to a strict music school.

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about the book      about the author      sample excerpts      catalogue info

About the Book Music School is the story of Jenny Wilson, a shy thirteen-year-old who plays the violin and daydreams in the privacy of her own bedroom. But when her mother decides to send her to a strict music school for girls, Jenny's world is thrown into turmoil.

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About the Author Neil van Carpenter is a writer and composer living in the north of England. Born 1972, he has worked in many different fields before finding his true calling writing novels and composing music.

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Sample Excerpts

Chapter I

SOMEWHERE in the winter darkness someone was playing a violin. Jenny Wilson stood alone in the forest, listening to it. But the music was so faint that she had to stand perfectly still just to hear it. She stared deep into the woods but all she saw was snow swirling between the trees. She didn't wear a hat, coat or scarf, but she didn't feel cold. In just a school jumper and skirt she should have been freezing, but she wasn't. She wasn't even shivering. It was as if she was warmed by the voice of the unseen violin.

She looked down at her own violin, which she carried in one hand, the bow in the other. For some strange reason it felt warm to the touch. She tucked it to her chin and began to play. The notes were long, smooth and deep.

At once she saw it, a tiny point of light twinkling and glowing between the trees. Jenny stopped playing and instantly the light halted in mid-air, hovering less than a hundred footsteps away. Jenny lowered her violin and gazed at it. Although it made no sound it seemed to be calling to her, like an old friend, a friend she might have forgotten or lost long, long ago when the world was new.

The snow seemed to be falling more thickly now and the tiny point of light began to pulse and stutter like a dying candle. Jenny started to walk to towards it and suddenly something passed in the air between her and the light. Something dark and shadowy and standing upright in the shape of a person.

"Jenny...!"

Jenny fl inched. The voice resounded through the forest. The light blinked into darkness and was gone. The other violin was silent. The trees, the snow and the whole world around her suddenly vanished into blackness. And somewhere inside that blackness, standing very close to her, was the shadow.

Jenny opened her eyes. She was sitting upright on the side of her bed, fully dressed with her coat on.

"Jenny!"

The voice was louder this time. Loud, impatient and demanding. But it was still muffl ed by the closed door and echoed somewhere in the large hall downstairs. It was her mother's voice.

Jenny turned to face the bedroom door, half-expecting her mother to come bursting in. "Yes?" she called.

"We're leaving in five minutes!" her mother shouted. "Don't forget your violin!"

"Okay." Jenny s violin was already packed into its case and standing by the door.

Thunder rumbled outside and Jenny peered out of the window. Rain drizzled against the glass. The street stretched away, empty and quiet. It was so gloomy that morning that the street lamps were still on. Jenny looked at the sky for signs of the sun. But all she saw were storm clouds, grey and threatening.

The rain got worse as they drove into the countryside, hammering the front windscreen and trickling down the side windows. The pounding on the roof fi lled the car, almost drowning out the squeak of the wipers, which flipped back and forth to the rhythm of the engine. Jenny pressed her nose to the cold glass and watched the rain-trails in fascination, following them one by one as the dark trees blurred by at the roadside.

"Jenny, are you listening to me?"

Jenny's head swung back to the car interior. "What?"

Her mother was twisted in the front passenger seat glaring at Jenny in the back. "It's not what' " she said, "it's 'pardon'."

Jenny quickly said, "sorry."

Her mother's eyes glinted, dark and piercing. "You've got to stop daydreaming, Jenny. It's time to grow up now. You're not a child anymore. We've all got to wake up sooner or later. Now, you've got a wonderful opportunity here - it's up to you to make the best of it." She paused and faced forward again. "Your father and I will have to make a lot of sacrifi ces to get you here."

Jenny watched as her mother looked at her father, waiting as always for his agreement. But her father's attention was on the road ahead. Her mother stared at him.

"Won't we?" she insisted.

He glanced at her. "Pardon?"

"I said: we will have to make a lot of a sacrifices?"

"Oh, yes," he replied, "sacrifi ces - yes we will."

Her mother nodded with satisfaction. Jenny noticed her father peering at her in the overhead mirror.

"Most people don't get breaks in life like this one, Jenny," he told her in his smooth, gentle voice. "Some of the best violin players in the world went to this school."

"They're called virtuosos, dear," said her mother. Her father just nodded.

Then her mother sighed loudly. "I just hope she realises how important this is." She swung round to face Jenny again. "If you waste this chance - you'll have to go back to your old school and you'll probably end up working in a supermarket. So make sure you pay attention and look interested. Do you understand me?"

Jenny nodded, then thought for a moment. "What's wrong with working in a supermarket?"

"Now come on, Jenny, you know better than that."

Jenny blinked thoughtfully. She did not know better than that, but she said nothing and glanced at the violin case on the seat beside her.

"Here we are," said her father.

A grand sign loomed into view at the side of the road. It was large and dark with ornate copper letters. It read: FARLEY'S MUSIC SCHOOL FOR GIRLS Established 1786.

The rain eased off as they passed under the covering of magnifi cent oak trees that sheltered the road. Jenny's father switched off the wipers as they approached an open set of iron gates. Beyond the gates they caught their first sight of the music school. It looked like a huge Victorian mansion.

Thunder murmured above them as Jenny's father brought their black BMW into the car-park in front of the school. There were only half-a-dozen other cars and they all seemed to be parked as far from the school building as possible. Jenny's mother pointed out that he should park next to them. Jenny's father did as she suggested and parked close to the trees, quietly muttering his concern for leaves falling on the car.

The moment they stopped, Jenny's mother jumped out of the car, even before Mr Wilson had switched off the engine. She slammed the front door and yanked open the back one.

"Come on," she said, waiting impatiently for Jenny. Jenny climbed out of the car and gazed up at the towering school building.

"Don't forget your violin," said her mother.

Jenny carefully picked it up and pushed the door shut. Jenny's father locked the car with a bleep from the alarm switch, then he reached into his long, expensive-looking overcoat for his tobacco tin and lighter. He took out a small, hand-rolled cigarette, but a disapproving look from Jenny's mother stopped him igniting it. He returned them to his pocket and followed as Jenny's mother ushered Jenny towards the steps leading up to the front doors of the school.

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Catalogue Information

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