The party stretches on for several enjoyable hours before it starts to break up. Robyn and the girls leave the flat after thanking the host for a very nice time. Outside, the weather has cleared some and the ever-present threat of rain seems to have dissipated for a time. Gem asks Robyn if she wants to return with them to their dorm flat, but she declines. "Thank you very much, dears, but I am going somewhere else."
Gem and Lydia look at each other then back to Robyn. Gem asks, "Who do you know in Cambridge, Mum?"
"You might just be surprised who your old mum knows. But, actually, I am going to the church. I need to think. I will see if I can work out something with your father, Lydia."
The girls look askance at each other, but nod and embrace Robyn before heading off to their dorm flat. Robyn walks the streets of Cambridge, making her way to the church. The door is open and she goes inside. One person is sitting in one of the front pews, but does not turn when Robyn enters and crosses herself. She walks to the front and kneels before the altar to pray. She asks God for the continued safety of Al Guthrie and Calista, wherever they are and whatever they are doing. The emptiness of her heart has been a drain on her for years and she sees no end in sight, her experience last night with Rory notwithstanding. Her prayer finished, she rises and takes a seat in a pew and contemplates her situation. She dozes and is awakened by Al growling softly at the approach of the priest. He stops a few feet away and in Russian says, "If your guardian will not eat me, I would sit with you for a bit."
Robyn motions and Al settles down to allow the priest to sit near his mistress. She, too, switches to Russian. ""My life is very complicated, Father. I feel it spiraling away from me at times and feel powerless to stop it."
"We all feel that way at times, Miss Lysander. Have you considered using that marvelous talent you have to release some of the pressure that is bearing you down?"
Robyn turns her head sharply to face him and he nods. "I am no stranger to the matrix, despite being a priest. The size and composition of my quite small congregation give me much time for self reflection and to listen to music. Your name and talent are not unknown to me. I particularly like your interpretation of several of Bach's pieces for the cello."
The priest rises and places a hand on Robyn's shoulder. "Come with me, if you have some time. I have something to show you. It will not take but a few minutes." Robyn rises and lets him take her arm in his and guide her to a small storage room. Opening the door, he flicks a the dim light and leads her in. "Please excuse the mess, but much of what is in here has not been used in years. Hmmm. It could get a bit crowded. Why don't you stay here and let me get it." Her senses show the priest moving through the piles of stacked things, moving some aside to make way to one corner of the small room. He moves an ancient tailor's dummy to one side and picks up a large case, bringing it back to her. She can tell it is a cello case by its size and contour. The priest confirms that as he excuses himself to pass out of the room, asking her to turn the light off. Brushing off some cobwebs from his cassock, he says, "Now, no guarantees about the state of the instrument inside, but perhaps you would do the church a great honor and play a song or two for the congregation this morning at the service?"
Robyn holds out her hands and takes the case from the priest. The priest talks about it as they walk back to the chapel. "The priest who served her before me told me the story about this case. He had a very old man among the congregation that would play this in the town square on Saturdays. Every Saturday. Rain or shine, hot or cold. Every Saturday. To some accounts he was quite good when he was young, but his skill was failing him at the time my predecessor was here. Still he played. Apparently he was once asked why he continued to play and the man said that he did it for his wife, who been a true master of the instrument. She had given concerts in her home in Russia every Saturday for years and he was simply carrying on as she would have done. He left the cello to the church when he died. I suppose he had no one else to leave it to. Unfortunately, we have never had anyone else who wanted to play it and so it sits forgotten and unused in a storage room. Please look at it and see if you can play it."
Robyn sits down and runs her hands on the case, feeling worn leather cracked with age and neglect. One of the clasps is broken and she undoes the others, lifting the lid to expose the instrument inside. She carefully feels the wood of the cello, finding no obvious cracks, indicating a well made instrument. Removing it, she feels for and finds the expected pouch in the case that holds a soft cloth for cleaning the cello and uses it to remove a two decades of dust. It is as if the fine instrument talks to her, telling her of its prior life and its hope for a future one. She tests the strings and finds three of them in need of replacement. She searches the case again and finds several strings coiled in protective packets, replacing the ones that need it. The bow could use some work as well, but should be able to make do for one performance. The cello is badly out of tune and she places her head against the neck, using her deft fingers to bring it back in. With the skill of years of playing behind her, she rosins the bow and tentatively begins playing the first of J. S. Bach's six Cello Suites.
Soon she is playing as if she was alone in the world. The beautiful music floats through the small chapel and out into the early morning air. First two people, then four, then several more enter the church to see what is going on. And stay for the impromptu concert. And she plays. She plays magnificently, her heart and soul in every stroke of the bow. She runs through the Suites and moves on seamlessly to solo cello works from other composers. Soon the pews and aisles are filled with people who have come in to listen to her play and even more are standing outside, on the steps and out into the street. A constable comes by to move the people along and simply moves them aside so that traffic can make its way by on the street. Word of mouth spreads that someone is giving a free concert out of the church. Somehow, someone gets her name and it spreads. Even people who know nothing of cello music stand spellbound by her performance. Tears flow from sightless eyes as she plays, and she is lost in the emotion of the moment. More than sex with Rory, this is truly cathartic in the way it allows her to release years of pent up emotions. Love vies with loss and is challenged by pain and abandonment. But love wins through.
She plays for three hours straight. She plays until her hands are nearly cramped and she has to stop. For a moment there is silence after she puts the bow down for the last time, the audience waiting to see if there will be more. When it becomes clear that she is done, the people erupt in applause, standing in ovation at the cellist's skill. The priest comes to her side as she bows her head over the instrument and stands near her to ward off the curious and the fan alike. Tears fall from her ace as she lets her anguish go and the priest lets the crying run its course before saying anything. "Are you alright, dear? I do not have to tell you how magnificent that was. Truly amazing."
Robyn nods without speaking and begins putting the cello back in its case. She holds up the frayed bow and says. "Thank you, Father. The bow needs to be replaced and someone should look at the case, but the cello seems to be in good condition. I am sorry to have run past your service."
"Think nothing of it. This old church has not seen so many people inside it for, well since before I came here. Probably forever. And your playing did as much to spread the Word of God as any sermon I might have had ready." He pauses then adds, "This old instrument does not belong here where no one can hear it. Would you like to have it?"
She lifts her face to the man in surprise. He waves a hand and nods. "There is no one here that can play it like you do. One condition, though. You need to return here at least twice a year and give us a concert. Deal?"
Robyn nods and swears an oath that is as binding as life to a Russian and takes up the case after closing it. She stands and calls Al to her side before leaving without saying another word.
