My little girl and a show-stopping cry

LIVING near Dorking, Surrey, we were very aware of the Leith Hill Music Festival held there, much associated with composer Ralph Vaughan Williams. This was the highlight of the year for surrounding villages, who sent their choirs to compete in the big concert hall in the town, then joined each other for a massed choirs event. However, it was the schools’ choirs concert which involved us. My two older children were singing there with their village school choir and pupils from other schools. The audience in the stalls and balcony was mainly mothers and other children on this longawaited occasion, all anxious to pick out their sons and daughters who were singing on the stage. This particular year I took my three-year-old girl as well. I kept her on my lap to stop her fidgeting or trying to chatter during the singing. At one point, members of the accompanying orchestra came to the front of the stage to show their instruments and demonstrate with a few bars of music. By the time the bassoonist walked forward to do this, my little girl had become restless and wanted to sit on the vacant seat adjoining. For the sake of quiet, I let her do this, lowering the hinged seat so she could sit. The bassoonist had just started his short solo when my small daughter let out a blood- curdling scream which stopped him mid-note and caused every eye in the stalls and balcony to turn in my direction. She’d tried to wriggle off the seat and had put her hand back where the hinge was, crushing her fingers as it went up and making her yell in pain. I looked down at the shocked faces of 100 children on the stage, hoping my son and daughter there hadn’t realised who had caused the noise. I disentangled my small girl from the seat and, with my hand over her mouth, hurried up the carpeted stairs of the balcony to the exit, with blood dripping from her little fingers. When my children came home, they were bursting to tell me what had happened. A little bandaged hand forced me to tell them it was us. Shocked and accusing eyes shrivelled me up. I promised them I’d never go again.

June Broomer, Peacehaven, E. Sussex.