Before I could correct my mistake, the audience erupted. I glanced up, baffled. Were they laughing at me already?

‘Give me a bloody chance,’ I whispered under my breath. I scanned the first row. Every face was contorted in hysterics. Some people were doubled over, clutching their stomachs. So they were all still against me. Bastards.

I stared again at the strings and chose one at random. Whatever. This was only five minutes of my life and I was already making a fool of myself. What did it matter which string I plucked? I twanged it and another perfect note spun out, almost breath-taking in its clarity.

The laughter stopped abruptly. There was a loud gasp, followed by a sob from somewhere to my right. I plucked the same string again. Yeah, yeah. So I couldn’t play any kind of tune.

There was another sob and several people cried out. I gritted my teeth; I was probably making their ears bleed, just as Taylor had foretold. I glanced at the few visible faces and saw that most of them were crying. Eh?

I flicked another look at the judges. Two of them had their arms round each other, while the third was wiping away tears with a large spotted handkerchief. I shook my head in confusion and stared at the harp.

‘Okay dokey,’ I whispered as I realised what was happening. The first note had made everyone laugh; the second one had made them cry. Dagda’s harp really was magical. Awesome. Then I shrugged; enough adulation. I ran my hand from one side of the harp to the other. The sound was extraordinary, a chiming thrum that grew in tempo and volume.

I focused on one woman in front of me. Her face twisted from glee to anger to abject misery. By the time the notes faded away, she was clutching her heart with such an expression of delight that I almost fell backwards. It was too much to look at.

I turned my head and checked the clock. It felt like half an hour had gone by but I was barely into my second minute. I was done though; I shrugged, picked up the harp and walked off.

The official who’d been so annoyed with me moments earlier was on his knees, gaping at me. Even Angus, who hadn’t left yet, stared at me in awe. A heartbeat later, there was a roar of what sounded like thunder. I frowned. It hadn’t looked like a storm was coming when I arrived. Then I realised it wasn’t thunder – it was applause.

I peered out from the curtains. The audience were on their feet, not just clapping but stamping and shouting for more. One of the judges called for an encore. I pulled back, dropping the harp as if it had burned me.

‘I’ve never heard anything like that in my life,’ Angus breathed. ‘So much for not being musical.’ He grasped my hand and squeezed it. ‘That was incredible.’