Set-up

Humiliation stung my cheeks. I stared into the porcelain teacup, fighting back tears. ‘Amiyah.’ I raised my head. Beata was holding the girl’s hand, looking at me pointedly. ‘Louise is an incredibly gifted pianist. She plays Bach and Mozart beautifully. In fact, she’s one of the youngest pianists to perform at the Royal Albert Hall.’ I just listened. It was clear that Beata wasn’t looking for a reply. ‘Her family traces its lineage back to the country’s last monarch. She is of noble birth, you could say.’ Louise gave a bashful smile. ‘I see,’ I managed. No amount of Earl Grey could soothe my parched throat. I pushed my chair back. Its sturdy legs scraped harshly against the marble floor. Louise winced. ‘I don’t think I’m feeling so well. If you’ll excuse me.’ ‘No, you are not excused.’ Beata struck her walking stick vehemently. ‘I expect you to sit down, behave yourself, finish dinner, and realise just how different you are from Louise.’ ‘That’s been made pretty clear to me,’ I retorte