The Man With The Umbrella

- 3 -

Amelia's Saturdays were never this grand.

But there she stood, dressed in a pinky peach silkened ball gown, feeling like a material girl with her peach, laced gloves and sipping champagne from a flute shaped glass. She watched her daughter up on the stage playing, 'Vivaldi Storm' with a look of adoration in her eyes. There she stood in the most prestigious room of a music hall.

Standing next to Amelia was her best friend from Harvard Law, Jolene. The two ladies stood looking down their noses in a humoured way to everyone. They may not of been rich but tonight they looked like a million dollars.

Jolene was a proud lesbian. She didn't boast about it and she didn't join gay pride parades, she was more or less proud in her own unique way. She was dressed in a deep blue, wrapped, frilled dress.

The two friends clothings were nothing like the real silks and suedes of others in the room but Amelia's slightly scratched silver jewellery did unfortunately define her status.

"Maybe we can find you a sugar daddy tonight." Jolene had suggested, as the pair grabbed a chocolate truffle from a waiter nearby. Amelia slightly nudged Jolene in warning, whilst Jolene entirely ignored the scandalised look the waiter threw them.

The naked skin on Amelia's arms itched with nerves. It had been a while since she had the chance to dress so pretty for herself, and herself alone. Amelia was full of jumbled nerves because she knew deep down that she never belonged to a place like this and she was self conscious with how the dress Jolene had picked her was a little revealing from the top half. Her entire likeness of money and social distancing from others became far more poignant at the conversations herself and Jolene walked swiftly past by.

Like most buildings in London, the outsides never did justice for the appearances to the insides. Outside were always simple and perhaps plain however inside, it was always tall ceilings, chandeliers and apart from Viola's musical pieces, it was very traditional, predictable and old.

Although, never minding the obvious to the Watson's eye, Amelia spent most of her attention to her daughter's music. Viola was a priceless, wonderful piece of art to her mother. Something irreplaceable. People spent a lifetime trying to find their calling, their muse but Amelia was ahead of others by a touch because motherhood was apart of her calling and she'd be damned if anyone ever took that away from her.

It gave her life meaning and for that plausible moment, Viola entrances all in the room either together or separately. People applauded just as Viola finished with a deliberate flourish to her violin and just so, the main orchestra picked up on where she left off.

Viola beamed with happiness and her pride on a even higher pedestal, if such a thing possible. Amelia bent forward with arms forever welcoming to embrace her daughter and Jolene whistled in a rather unorthodox way whilst clapping, proud of her make believed niece.

"Honey, you were brilliant." Amelia beamed. Viola straightened out her dress whilst responding: "Thank you for this opportunity, auntie." She jumped up and down happily. Jolene only smiled in delight before stroking her nieces head lovingly. "You're welcome, tinker. It was your fifteen minutes of fame and you used it wisely."

With laughs and smiles, Jolene then turned to Amelia, bowing slightly, offering her hand. "Miss Watson, would you do me the honours to dance?"

Enclosing her hand with her best friends, Amelia placed the champagne flute down onto a stand nearby. "Jolene, I thought you'd never ask." Jolene snorted slightly in humour just as they escorted themselves to the centre of the hall. "Let's show these old farts and hags along with them how to properly dance." Placing hands on shoulders and hips, Jolene gave the signal and the orchestra began.