But the following Sunday at church, Madame Neff stopped Teresa and said, “I’ve talked to my nephew. He is willing to give you an audition. He’s expecting you on Wednesday at three o’clock.”
And so it was that the following Wednesday a very nervous Teresa appeared at the radio station in Nice and met the director.
“I’m Louis Bonnet,” he said curtly. “I can give you five minutes.”
Teresa’s physical appearance only confirmed his worst fears. His aunt had sent him talent before.
I should tell her to stick to her kitchen. But he knew that he would not. The problem was that his aunt was very rich, and he was her only heir.
Teresa followed Louis Bonnet down a narrow hallway into a small broadcast studio.
“Have you ever sung professionally?”
“No, sir.” Her blouse was soaked with perspiration. Why did I ever let myself get talked into this? Teresa wondered. She was in a panic, ready to flee.
Bonnet placed her in front of a microphone. “I don’t have a piano player around today, so you’re going to have to sing a cappella. Do you know what a cappella means?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Wonderful.” He wondered, not for the first time, if his aunt was rich enough to make all these stupid auditions worthwhile.
“I’ll be in the control booth. You’ll have time for one song.”
“Sir—what shall I—?”
He was gone. Teresa was alone in the room staring at the microphone in front of her. She had no idea what she was going to sing. “Just go and meet him,” his aunt had said. “The station has a musical program every Saturday evening and…”
I’ve got to get out of here.
Louis’s voice came out of nowhere. “I don’t have all day.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t—”
But the director was determined to punish her for wasting his time.
“Just a few notes,” he insisted. Enough so he could report to his aunt what a fool the girl had made of herself. Perhaps that would persuade her to stop sending him her protégés.
“I’m waiting,” he said.
He leaned back in his chair and lit a Gitane. Four more hours to go. Yvette would be waiting for him. He would have time to stop off at her apartment before he went home to his wife. Maybe there would even be time to—
He heard it then, and he could not believe it. It was a voice so pure and so sweet that it sent chills down his spine. It was a voice filled with longing and desire, a voice that sang of loneliness and despair, of lost loves and dead dreams, and it brought tears to his eyes. It stirred emotions in him that he had thought were long since dead. All he could say to himself was, Jesus Christ! Where has she been?
An engineer had wandered into the control booth, and he stood there listening, mesmerized. The door was open and others began to come in, drawn by the voice. They stood there silently listening to the poignant sound of a heart desperately crying out for love, and there was not another sound in the room.
When the song ended, there was a long silence, and one of the women said, “Whoever she is, don’t let her get away.”
Louis Bonnet hurried out of the room into the broadcast studio. Teresa was getting ready to leave.
“I’m sorry I took too long. You see, I’ve never—”
“Sit down, Maria.”
“Teresa.”
“Sorry.” He took a deep breath. “We do a musical radio broadcast every Saturday night.”
“I know. I listen to it.”
“How would you like to be on it?”
She stared at him, unable to believe what she was hearing. “You mean—you want to hire me?”
“Beginning this week. We’ll start you at the minimum. It will be a great showcase for you.”
It was almost too good to be true. They’re going to pay me to sing.
“Pay you? How much?” Monique asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t care.” The important thing is that somebody wants me, she almost said, but she stopped herself.
“That’s wonderful news. So you’re going to be on the radio!” her father said.