[ She finishes the concerto to applause, not unexpectedly, but none so loud as one particular man she had noticed nodding off in the audience.
Francesca isn’t a particularly big football fan ( her chief sport being a highly competitive annual golf session with her family ), and so there is no recognition that reaches her eyes that night, merely a furrow of her brow and some mild annoyance.
There is recognition the second and third time she spots him in the crowd during subsequent concerts, an unexpected recurrence. A bemusing sight to behold, really.
Afterwards, a banquet, and she manages to get a name. Jamie Tartt. She tells herself she’s simply being curious when she takes it upon herself to approach, champagne flute in hand, but inexplicably, it requires the mustering of considerable courage. ]
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Francesca isn’t a particularly big football fan ( her chief sport being a highly competitive annual golf session with her family ), and so there is no recognition that reaches her eyes that night, merely a furrow of her brow and some mild annoyance.
There is recognition the second and third time she spots him in the crowd during subsequent concerts, an unexpected recurrence. A bemusing sight to behold, really.
Afterwards, a banquet, and she manages to get a name. Jamie Tartt. She tells herself she’s simply being curious when she takes it upon herself to approach, champagne flute in hand, but inexplicably, it requires the mustering of considerable courage. ]
You didn’t fall asleep this time.