Into the Silence

her hands together and turned her back on the uniform chairs. 'Let's get to your places and ready to start. Form your lines.' With a nod and a raised eyebrow she organised the choir into a presentable semi-circle of three rows. 'And remember ladies, never sing louder than lovely!'

Half an hour later and they were in full voice, belting out their arrangement of 'How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria?' It had been Annaliese's choice and, although Hannah had hated it at first, she had to admit that it worked for them. They were women of the right age and could have fun with it, without making it sound twee. As much as Annaliese George irritated her as a person, she was definitely a talented musical director.

Despite the chill that hovered under the high ceilings of the practical seventies hall, Hannah's face was warm as her breath moved in a steady flow, pushing out her sections of the song, and she relaxed into the enjoyment of being part of the wave of sound created by her friends around her. She looked down at Annaliese, her stout but elegant form standing about two rows back into the empty audience seating, the top of her hair lost and absorbed into the dusky darkness of the rear of the centre.

Hannah tried not to smile, knowing that their musical director would pick it up immediately. Annaliese had insisted they leave the back lights off in order to create a theatre atmosphere since the chairs were already laid out. She said it would help them with their stage fright. Hannah thought they could turn out all the lights and she'd still have a hard time imagining she was on the stage of the Millennium Centre. Her stomach knotted for a second with a fizz of excitement. It was hard to believe they'd really made it this far.

Alice's voice cut through the air with the purity of a diamond through ice, and Hannah paused for breath, just relishing the exquisiteness of it. For a brief second though, something discordant interrupted it. Tilting her head, she peered at Annaliese, thinking she may have dropped a glass or bottle, but the conductor was smiling as she waved her arms and counted the next part in. That was strange. She was sure the sound had come from somewhere towards the back of the hall. Maybe she'd just imagined it. Taking a deep breath to come in with her section of altos, she stopped midway as Alice lost her note, veering into a bad sharp.

Annaliese rapped her baton harshly on the metal chair beside her, bringing the choir to an abrupt silence. She flashed an angry glare at Alice. 'What on Earth was that? You sounded like a cat that's been run over and left for dead.' Her mouth tightened into a thin line, all her hidden years apparent in the sudden crinkles around her lips. 'We can't have that so close to the finals. We're going to be on television, Alice. We're representing Women's Institute branches all over the country.'

Alice lifted her shoulders helplessly. 'I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I just felt…' She hesitated. 'I just felt a little strange for a moment.'

Hannah looked across at her younger friend. She was pale and trembling slightly. That didn't look like 'strange' to Hannah. That looked like fear. What could have shaken her like that?

'Maybe we should take a short break,' she said softly. 'I could use a quick drink of water.'

It was only when they were wearily leaving an hour later, that Enid spotted the pane of broken glass in the window beside the door. The group huddled round it.

'Was that here when we arrived?' Hannah stared at it. 'I thought I heard something breaking. Just before Alice lost that note. Must have been kids mucking around.'

With a big sigh, Annaliese hurried them outside and towards the battered minibus. 'The caretaker will be here in a minute to lock up. I'll explain it to him. I'm damned if they're going to charge us for the damage.'

Wearily, the women hauled themselves onto the minibus and waited in the damp chill for their conductor to join them, Hannah already looking forward to the four-storey climb to her bed. It had been a very long day.

The creature hung suspended somewhere at the edge of the dark space that had carried it so far from its origin, a void within a void, blackness coated in dark. It was too tired to pull itself into a physical form and it felt defeated. Feelings, emotions, the curse it carried: the creature endured them all in its silence. Too much loneliness. It had been pulled across the universe to this place, through the yawning cut in space and time that had found it desolate and alone and teased it with the noise of a different world; a world of sound, of communication, of emotion. It needed some of that. It needed to take this world home, to make its life bearable.

The shapeless form howled silently with frustration, the emotion a vibration across its surface. It was failing. It couldn't get what it wanted. The absorbed parts worked only on a barely functional level, reproducing primitive sound when the creature forced them to work, mentally manipulating the parts as if they were a mechanism but, however it tried, it couldn't make the air resonate and fill and touch its emptiness in the way that they did in their original hosts. Rage filled it and it came as bursts of cymbals and drums and soaring rich song in the alien's head. Until the sounds had come through the tear in the sky, it had only ever known empty silence, and now it couldn't bear to give those sounds up. It wouldn't go back, it couldn't, not until it could take the sound with it.

And so, after blinking in and out of the city seeking in vain, it waited, nothing at the edge of nothing, until the voices called it again.

TEN

After the short drive from the Millennium Centre to Mermaid Quay, Maria Bruno, or plain Mary Brown as she had been christened not so very many miles from here, waited until Martin was ready with the umbrella and then stepped out of the well-polished modern black Sedan and walked elegantly into the five-star St David's Hotel. She didn't acknowledge her supposed manager and unfortunate husband as he scurried beside her, holding the umbrella to make sure her perfectly set hair didn't get wet. Perhaps that was all he was really good for, being the hired help.

She fought an itch of irritation that threatened to force its way onto her face. It never did to show one's feelings. If only she'd realised Martin's limitations in their early days. But then, they'd been caught up in the flush of love, hard as that was to remember now, and who ever doubts the objects of their desire? All women want to believe their men strong and capable. Just like the heroes and lovers in the operas that she'd spent so much of her life performing.

The sleek doors slid open, and she stepped into the lobby holding her head high and back straight, flicking her wrist at Martin to shoo him and his umbrella away from her side. The bright lights bathed on her face and she pushed her chin out ever so slightly in order to make any lines on her neck less defined. Every entrance to every room was like an entrance on stage for Maria Bruno. She was a star, and for stars there were always people watching. If only these so-called celebrities would realise that these days. Then perhaps they'd remember to put their knickers on when they went out. The world had forgotten about class, and she intended to remind them of it.

Although she had to admit in her quieter moments, if only to herself, that some of those tasteless flash-in- the-pan pop stars had more fans than she did now. But she could blame that on Martin. He wasn't getting her the auditions she needed to keep herself on the premiere stages of Europe. Auditions. Even just thinking the word almost made her choke. Who would have thought that Maria Bruno, the finest soprano to come out of the Valleys, would have to audition for anyone. Until a few years ago, she had had to fight her way through the offers.

Her heart sinking a little, she forced her chin upwards to compensate. Dotted around the vast and clinical lobby a few heads turned her way, muttering amongst themselves with a buzz of recognition. A few pointed in her direction. It was barely surprising they knew who she was, even though she doubted any of them had ever heard her sing. Her face was on the posters for the competition that were spread on every billboard across the city. She pretended not to notice them. There was no class in acknowledging the fans. A cool aloofness was the way of true stars. And these weren't her fans, not really. They weren't the people who had waited outside the stage doors of the Royal Opera House on nights when Covent Garden had suffered worse rain than even Cardiff was getting, huddling there for hours just for a chance of getting an autograph. And yet here she was, judging a plebeian talent show simply in order to remind the world that she was still around. At least the final was being televised and she would be singing on it. That was something. Perhaps it would lead to an album deal. And the hotel was world class; she had to give the organisers credit for that. It seemed like a long time since she'd been pampered like this.

Her heels tip-tapping across the endless marble floor, she didn't pause as Martin struggled to take down the umbrella that'd had approximately thirty seconds' use.

'I'm going straight up. I'll see you in the morning.' She spoke without looking at him, focusing instead on