This is the full script with some added commentary.

This episode was always a sort of prologue: an introduction to Hannah and the world she lives in.

I knew it was a risk to bring listeners straight to the theatre, but for me there was just no other way to start this story. Just the title ‘The Diva Story’ would most certainly scare off some listeners. Might as well go all in, I figured!

“How long is this going to take?” Hannah asked.

Her mother sighed. “Hannah, please, you sound like a teenager.”

Hannah knew it would prove her mother’s point, but she still rolled her eyes dramatically.

“I saw that,” her mother said.

Hannah couldn’t help but smile. Her mother was right, she knew. At 33, she was too old to be acting this way. But Hannah really, really didn’t want to be here.

She looked around the large hall. It had been her father’s favourite place ‘in the whole darn world’, he always had said.

Still, Hannah didn’t feel any fondness for it. Not when she was kid and definitely not now that she was an adult.

Hannah thought it was a pompous place for pompous people. Evidence to support her claim wasn’t hard to find.

The red carpets and shiny golden chandeliers of the place had nothing on the jewellery clad women making their way up the stairs, holding on to their tuxedo wearing husbands or lovers.

Her own mother, Lucile, sure looked the part tonight. She always did. Lucile was wearing a beautiful, deep green evening gown with frighteningly high stiletto heels under it.

The only difference was, she wasn’t accompanied by a husband. Her arm was linked with Hannah’s. At least, it was tonight.

Since Hannah’s father had passed away almost 15 years ago, her mother had come here alone. Tonight, Lucile had pleaded with her daughter to join her. As a farewell gift, she had said. It would be the last time Lucile would walk up these stairs for a long time, maybe ever.

Hannah had not agreed to come immediately. Her mother had had to ask several times. Now that Hannah was here – with Lucile’s hand clamped around her upper arm – Hannah felt a pang of guilt.

Making her mom come here by herself for all these years, suddenly seemed cruel. It couldn’t have been easy for Lucile. It sure was hard for Hannah.

The memories of her father washed over her and tugged at her heat like a strong current. When she had first stepped into the grand foyer 30 minutes ago, she had had to swallow the tears away.

“It must be even harder for her,” Hannah thought. She glanced sideways at her mother. Lucile was looking around with an air of dignity and belonging. “She would never let anyone know, of course,” Hannah realised.

Lucile had remarried 10 years ago, but as far as Hannah knew, the new husband had never joined her here. Hannah wasn’t sure if her mother didn’t want him to come, or if he never bothered to join her.

It didn’t matter. Lucile had divorced that poor excuse of a man 2 years ago. And now, after ending her second marriage, Hannah’s mother was fed up with New York City life.

She would be returning to her home country Belgium for her retirement in a few months, leaving Hannah behind to run their successful chocolate business.

It was a decision that had surprised Hannah. She had been to Brussels a couple of times, to visit relatives, and she simply couldn’t imagine her glamorous mother living in a chaotic city far away from her daughter.

But Lucile had been sure of her decision by the time she had told Hannah. She would move to Belgium, but keep a small studio in a Manhattan for visits. “I have an iPhone and an iPad, I’ll be just one touch away,” Lucile had said.

And so her mother had started planning. By early September, she would move out of NYC. But not before attending one last performance in this memory filled concert hall. It was now late May, and the last production of the season was opening tonight.

“I always miss him when I’m here,” Lucile suddenly said quietly.

Hannah pulled her mother a bit closer. “Yeah, me too,” she said.

Lucile smirked. “Honey, you never come here”.

Hannah shook her head a little. “Why do you think that is?” she said.

Lucile looked up and met her gaze. “Is that why you stay away from here? I thought you just hated opera,” she said.

Hannah grinned at her mother. “Oh, I do. I really do hate opera.”

Lucile smiled, and then playfully rolled her eyes.

There’s a lot we find out about Hannah in this opening.

“So, do you still hate it? Or did you enjoy it a bit more?,” Lucile asked, sounding surprisingly hopeful. Hannah was switching her phone back on. “Ehm…,” she hesitated. “I guess it was less horrible than it used to be. That one singer was…nice. Did they change something?”

Her mother laughed. “Honey, opera hasn’t changed. Maybe you have.” Hannah typed in her password on the screen. “Well, I haven’t changed that much then. I still think it was too darn long and too dramatic. I mean, there’s not much subtlety to be found in these stories, is there?”

“Oh, but there is,” Lucile said, while pushing herself up from her seat. “You just don’t see or hear it, dear. You’re not open to it.” Hannah glanced at her mother. Lucile’s bright blue eyes were fixed on her. There was no judgement in them, though. Just warmth.

Hannah tucked her phone away in the inner pocket of her blazer before she got up. This was an important night for her mother. They wouldn’t get to spend a lot of time together very soon. Better make the most of it now. She smiled.

“Want to have a drink and tell me what I’m missing?,” Hannah asked. She was making an effort. Lucile’s lips curved up, fine wrinkles dancing around her eyes. “I’d like that very much,” she replied. “I actually need to talk to you about something.”

Hannah tilted her head. “OK, do you want to go to some place in the neighbourhood, or …?” Lucile pointed at the bar and restaurant in the foyer of the theatre. “Let’s sit over there. I’m sure they’ll have a table for us.”

Hannah shrugged. “Fine by me.” She followed her mother to the somewhat oddly placed restaurant. It had about 20 tables grouped together, only separated from the rest of the lobby by some plants and velvet ropes.

Most of the tables were occupied by the same pompous couples Hannah had seen before. This place really did make her uncomfortable. She would have rather left and found some cozy place nearby. But if her mom preferred this bar…Why not?

They were shown to a table nearby the impressively large windows. The waiter helped Lucile with her chair and she nodded gratefully at him. “We’ll have two glasses of Veuve Cliquot,” she said. “Of course, ma’am.”

Hannah rested her chin on her right hand. “We celebrating something?,” she asked. Lucile was playing with the emerald ring on her left hand. Hannah’s father had given it to her not too long before he suddenly passed away.

“Yes, dear, life is about change a great deal for both of us.” Hannah straightened her back. “I’m ready to take over the business, mother,” she said confidently. Lucile folded her hands on the table. “I know you are.”

Hannah looked up as the waiter arrived with their two glasses of champagne.

**sound of glasses being put down and thanks and stuff like that**

She picked up her glass and raised it as soon as he had left. “I hope you will be happy in Belgium, mom” Lucile lifted her own drink in the air. “I know I will be. Ce sera bon. And I trust you will be fine here too.”

Hannah smiled at the beautiful sound of their crystal classes clinking. For a brief second, she was truly happy for her mother. Hannah would miss having her mother around, but she had noticed her mom seemed a lot more relaxed since she had made the decision.

“Now, Hannah, there’s a reason I invited you here tonight,” Lucile said after taking a sip of champagne. “Ok…,” Hannah said, leaning forward. “As you know, your father loved this opera company,” Lucile said.

Hannah nodded slowly. Lucile pursed her lips. “And you know he started the foundation to support young talent.” Hannah nodded again. The foundation had been her father’s pride and joy, and its continued existence had been a specific wish in his will.

Lucile put down her glass. “I have taken over his duties since he passed away.” Hannah arched an eyebrow. Her mother was so busy with all sorts of charities, Hannah had never noticed any specific activities related to her father’s foundation.

Her mother reached over the table and grabbed Hannah’s hand. “Now it’s your turn to honour your father’s wishes, dear.” Hannah’s eyes widened. She quickly swallowed her champagne with difficulty.

“Excuse me?,” she said after a quick cough to clear her throat. Lucile stared at her with a serious expression. “You need to take over these responsibilities now that I am moving back to Europe.”

Hannah rubbed her chin. She didn’t like where this was going. The foundation supported young opera singers, and Hannah absolutely did not want anything to do with opera. Hannah hadn’t inherited her parents love for the art form – at all.

“I don’t understand. What responsibilities?,” she finally said. Lucile pulled back her hand, and shifted in her seat. “Not that many, really. You have to attend certain events now and then. The foundation staff handles the rest.”

Hannah glared at her mother. “You know I hate those type of events!” Lucile sucked in her lips. Hannah could see her mother was getting annoyed. “Mom…”

Hannah pushed some strands of hair that had escaped back behind her ear, and stared outside. After a while, her mom spoke up again. “The foundation carries your name, Hannah. It’s time to take up some responsibility.”

Hannah scowled. She was hurt by the remark. She knew she was still a bit…well, she always called herself young at heart. But Hannah had never shied away from hard work and responsibility.

When she was a kid, Hannah had helped out in her mother’s store. By the time she was 15, she was spending every spare moment working for her mother. And once she had graduated, she had helped her mother grow the business into the impressive chain of stores it was now.

Hannah met her mother’s gaze. “I always worked hard,” she stammered, her voice a bit unstable. “Yes, you did,” Lucile immediately replied. “But you’ve always pretended we were any other family. Small business owners who worked hard and got lucky. But we aren’t, Hannah. Your father was a very important man. This gave you plenty of opportunities other people couldn’t dream of.”

Hannah sighed. She had heard this speech many times before. And she had to admit there was nothing she ever had to miss in her life. But she had always felt like she had earned these opportunities by working hard, and never taking anything for granted.

“I don’t see how spending my time supporting the entertainment industry is taking up responsibility,” she said icily. Lucile huffed. “Seriously, Hannah, don’t pretend like you think this is about the latest broadway hit shows.”

Hannah downed the rest of her glass of champagne. Not exactly charming, but she didn’t care right now. She thought of the bottle of amazing Scottish single malt that was waiting for her at home. She glanced at her watch to check the time.

She looked back up to see her mother staring at her angrily. Hannah couldn’t take it anymore. “What kind of events?,” she relented. Lucile took a measured sip of her champagne. Her hand was shaking a bit, Hannah noticed.

After she put down the glass again, Hannah’s mother said: “The opening of the new season, Young Artist recitals, some meetings with the young artist we support…Maybe some interviews together.”

Hannah clenched her jaw. “Press interviews?,” she said softly. She hated being in the spotlight at these socialite events, but dealing with the press… That was 10 times worse.

“Oh, it won’t be that many. If any at all.” Lucile shook her head. “The press rarely cares.” She pinned Hannah with her blue eyes again. “The most important thing are the meetings with the young artist supported by our grant.”

Hannah sighed. “What kind of meetings?” Her mother was playing with one of the napkins the waiter had put under the glasses. “Your father wanted to do more than other patrons. He wanted to be a mentor for these young people,” Lucile said.

Hannah had no idea what that meant. “You have dinner together now and then, maybe a drink, attend some of their recitals and opera performances, help them any way you can, … I always enjoyed meeting these artists, to be honest,” Lucile said.

“But…I’m 33, mom,” Hannah said, “How can I be a mentor to some super talented opera nerd?” Lucile frowned. “Hannah, please. This was really important to your father.” Hannah closed her mouth. When her mother stated something was important to her late father, it basically meant “Do not argue me on this.”

Lucile briefly looked around, almost like she wanted to make sure no one could overhear their conversation. Hannah felt her cheeks starting to heat up. Was she embarrassing her mother? She felt her chest tighten.

Her mother waved at the waiter when she spotted the young man servicing a couple two tables away. “Another glass?,” she asked Hannah. “Yes, thank you,” Hannah said quietly, still feeling the sting of her mother’s disapproval.

Lucile stuck up two fingers to the waiter and pointed at their glasses. Hannah glanced down at her hands. She hated disappointing her mother. And clearly, this was not something her mother was kidding about.

“So, for the coming two seasons, the grant has been given to a young lady. Her name is Mrs. North. She was admitted to the Met Young Talent Development program, and the Emsworth Foundation funds her training and stipend.”

Hannah’s mother inspected her perfectly manicured nails. “I have not met Mrs. North myself,” she said thoughtfully. “I thought it would be best if you took over immediately.”

Hannah took in a deep breath, trying to manage the surge of panic she felt. Out of nowhere, the waiter suddenly put down two more glasses on the table. Hannah waited for him to leave before she asked her next question.

“So, what do I say to this with Mrs. North, mother? I don’t know anything about opera!” Lucile wrapped her fingers around the long champagne glass. “You know a lot about running a business. I’m sure Mrs. North will find that useful. Being successful in the opera opera world demands business skills as well as musical talent these days.”

“It does?,” Hannah asked, rubbing the back of her neck. She assumed these artists were paid by foundations and other art programs that subsidised the arts. If you were good enough, others would pay you to sing, she had always assumed.

“Yes, it’s a business as much as any other thing in this damn world,” her mother said. Hannah bit her lip. She still hated the idea, but she guessed she did know enough about running a business to help someone out.

“So, when do I have to meet this Mrs. North for the first time?,” Hannah asked. “In a couple of months, August,” Lucile replied. Her gaze a lot warmer now. ” I’ll have Charlotte coordinate with your assistant to set up the schedule.”

Hannah frowned and was about to say something, but Lucile raised her finger.
“She’ll book the mandatory engagements, performances and set up a schedule for your dinners with Mrs. North. She’ll also send you her bio. I suggest you at least study it before you meet her.”

Hannah crossed her legs under the table. “OK…,” she said quietly. Lucile smiled. “Thank you. This is really important to me, Hannah. This is how you keep your father’s legacy alive. He would be proud to see his daughter walk in his footsteps.”

Hanna’s throat was now completely dry. Lucile rarely told her she would have made her father proud . Her success in business certainly never had earned a remark like this one. Why the hell was this opera thing so important?

“Let’s finish our glasses and head home. I’m getting a bit tired,” Lucile said. Hannah nodded and tried to smile. It was her mother’s last night at the damned opera after all.

*****music to go to next scene*****

Later that evening, Hannah let herself fall down on her couch after a long and hot shower. After goodbye hug in the lobby of her mother’s building, Hannah had hopped back in the car, and had let herself be driven home.

She had wanted to get out of her pants and blazer as soon as she possibly could. And she had needed a glass of that single malt as soon as possible. She had no longer cared it was a week night.

Now, Hannah was sniffing her favoured drink. The peaty scent she loved so much easily found its way out the glass. She loosely kept it resting on her chest with one hand, while she raised her phone with the other.

She didn’t want to think about what she had been forced to agree to tonight. Checking her email would keep her busy until she was relaxed enough to go to bed.

Hannah sipped from the whiskey and let it roll around in her mouth. The burn was exquisite. She licked her lips to enjoy every last drop of the delicious spirit. In the mean time, her thumb automatically scrolled through the long list of emails in her inbox.

She had started reading the oldest email first, a habit she had adopted a long time ago and that saved her from sending a lot of unnecessary emails every single day. People tended to send follow up emails with more information, and Hannah liked to read everything before she replied.

Most of her messages tonight were about the new store opening in Boston in a few months. A quick scan of the updates told her there were no unusual issues for now.

This was the 12th time in the last 5 years a new Leroy Chocolates store opened, and her team had gotten used to it. It had finally become a structured process, instead of being a wild, crazy adventure like with the first 3 or 4 stores.

Hannah sent a few quick replies to give her OK on the solutions proposed by her team. She decided she would look at the art work for the new spring chocolate packaging tomorrow. That task required a fresh and sober mind, and hers was was neither.

She was about to put away her phone, when her eyes fell on the new email at the top of the list. “Seriously?,” Hannah mumbled. She glanced at clock in the upper corner of the screen.

It was almost 1 AM. Why was her mother’s assistant emailing in the middle of the night? A sudden loud purr made Hannah turn her head to look down at her cat, Charles. “Hey boy, come here.” She padded on her belly. The cat gave her a ‘hell no’ look back.

Hannah knew there was no use in trying to convince him, and put down on her glass on the floor. She petted Charles’ head while she opened the email. The subject line was ‘Miss North.” Hannah frowned.

“They want me to hang out with some diva,” she told Charles. The cat replied with a whiny squeak. But Hannah was too curious about the email to focus back on the cat. She read Charlotte’s email:

“Dear Miss Emsworth,

Here’s the information on Miss North your mother wants you to have. Below, you will find Miss North’s biography, links to her most recent recitals and some official pictures. Please let me know if you need anything else.

I will contact your assistant Suzy during the summer to find some suitable dates for your first dinner with Miss North.

Best regards,

Charlotte

Hannah exhaled in frustration. She ignored the PDF file and links under Charlotte’s name for now and tapped on the attached picture instead.

It opened immediately, and Hannah was surprised to see a stunning young woman, in an elegant purple evening gown. Her lips were bright red, her brown eyes filled with emotion and both of her arms were raised dramatically.

Hannah raised her eyebrows. “Well, at least it’s a gorgeous drama queen,” she confided to Charles. He gave another loud, unhappy squeak.

Hannah now did look back at him and giggled. “What is it, boy? You want to be an opera singer too?” Charles stared back at her with wide yellow eyes. He started purring again.

Hannah rolled her eyes at her furry friend. She locked her phone and put it on the table. While pushing herself up, she leaned over to grab her drink.

Hannah got up from the couch, emptied the glass in one big gulp and started walking towards the bedroom. “Come on, let’s go to bed, Pavarotti”