Chapter 28
TWENTY YEARS AGO – FEbrUARY
Although the thought of going away on my own was scary, I knew it was essential for properly getting my head together.
Travelling overseas on my own felt like a step too far and, as I needed time rather than significant distance away from Cliff, I decided to stay somewhere relatively local and familiar.
I booked a two-centre break in Manchester – five nights in a country hotel with a spa where I’d have plenty of time to relax and think, followed by a weekend in the city centre where I could take the intensity off the thinking time with a visit to the theatre and a few museums.
The country hotel was everything I’d hoped it would be.
I swam each morning, had massages and facials, read, worked on a cross stitch, wandered the grounds and thought, thought, thought.
By the time I checked into my city-centre hotel on the Friday afternoon, I felt rested, relaxed and reasonably sure that my decision would be to stay with Cliff.
Yes, it meant sacrifices, but I’d already had the best part of two decades making them and they’d been happy years.
I loved his company and the lifestyle we had.
I wanted to travel more so perhaps we could do that, exploring further-flung places together.
I’d booked a ticket to see a musical that evening – something I’d done quite often on my own because, while Cliff loved the theatre, it was plays he favoured and he wasn’t a musicals fan.
After dining in my room, I felt restless and decided that, as it was a cool, calm evening, I’d kill some time before the show by wandering round the streets near the theatre.
Commuters on their way home from work jostled for pavement space with those dressed up for an evening out and, even though I preferred the gentler pace of life in the countryside, a brief visit to the city always gave me a buzz of excitement.
A little way ahead of me, a shop sign caught my eye – Pianos of Distinction – and my pace quickened.
Showcased on a plinth behind a large window was a gleaming black grand piano with the lid propped up.
Spotlights illuminated the keys and the workings beneath the lid and I drew a sharp intake of breath, marvelling at how beautiful it was.
Debussy’s ‘Clair de Lune’ – one of Mum’s favourite classical pieces – was open on the music stand and my fingers twitched as I heard the tune in my head and imagined playing it.
‘It’s a stunner, isn’t it?’
I hadn’t even noticed the man approach and jumped as he spoke.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you.’
I looked up at him and guessed he was a similar age to me. He had thick dark hair, a five o’clock shadow across a strong jawline and the warmest smile.
‘It’s okay. I was miles away.’
‘You play?’ he asked.
‘I used to.’
‘Were you playing that piece just now? Your fingers were moving.’
I glanced back at the music. ‘I couldn’t help myself. It’s been a long time but the memory’s still there.’ I looked up at him once more. ‘Do you play?’
‘I do but, lately, I haven’t been feeling it.’
I nodded, totally relating to that.
‘My mum loved “Clair de Lune”,’ I said. ‘She cried every time I played it. She said it made her imagine she was floating across a lily pond, the sun kissing her cheeks, the breeze ruffling her hair, feeling completely at one with nature.’
I bit my lip, unsure what had made me share such a precious memory with a stranger, but he looked captivated by it.
‘That’s beautiful. I can hear it in my head and picture exactly that.’
‘Makes me want to play it again.’
He glanced around us and leaned a little closer. ‘I think there might be too many people about to get away with throwing a brick through the window tonight,’ he said, making me laugh. ‘But you could always come back tomorrow when the showroom’s open and give it a go.’
‘I couldn’t do that, could I? Not when I’m not buying a piano.’
‘They don’t mind. I’ve done it before.’
I turned my gaze to the window. Beyond the grand piano, I could see rows of uprights and a couple of baby grand pianos. Excitement flowed through me at the thought of playing any of them.
‘I was going to go to a couple of museums,’ I said, ‘but maybe I’ll come here first.’
‘If you haven’t played for a while and you don’t want much of an audience, mornings are quieter.’
I smiled at him gratefully. It was one thing playing the air notes just now and quite another actually putting my fingers to the keys but, at that moment, I didn’t just want to play the piano. I needed to.
‘I’ll do that,’ I said. ‘Thanks…’ I added an inflection to the word, searching for his name.
‘Will,’ he said, proffering a hand to shake.
‘Yvonne.’ As I took his hand – cool and strong – and looked into his eyes, I felt a jolt inside me, stirring the butterflies in my stomach.
‘Lovely to meet you, Yvonne.’
His warm smile sent the butterflies soaring and I felt strangely disappointed when he released my hand.
‘I’ve got to shoot, but I hope you do come back tomorrow and play “Clair de Lune” and anything else that calls to you.’
I nodded. ‘I will. And I hope you feel the music again really soon.’
‘I hope so too. Bye.’
Will disappeared into the night and I stood by the piano, my heart pounding, my hands shaking because meeting him just now had thrown everything I’d concluded over the past week into disarray.
I’d felt something for him. Cliff had told me to kiss a stranger…
kiss ten strangers, have sex. As if! But maybe that was what I needed to do – or at least the first part.
Without pausing to decide whether it was a good idea or not, I raced after Will. He’d gone down a side street but, when I turned down it, it was deserted. I sighed heavily, disappointment flowing through me at the missed opportunity.
Returning to Pianos of Distinction, I took one last longing look at the grand piano in the window then set off towards the theatre. Probably just as well Will had gone. What would I have said if I’d caught up with him?
* * *
The following morning, I stood outside Pianos of Distinction, debating whether or not to go in.
I no longer feared the memories that playing the piano would evoke but I did fear placing my fingers on the keys after twenty years and being unable to play competently.
My head told me that I knew all my favourite pieces off by heart and those memories would rapidly return, aided by the muscle memory in my fingers.
Last night, my fingers had definitely remembered ‘Clair de Lune’.
My heart raced as that train of thought took me to Will and the steamy dreams I’d had about him, which seemed ridiculous when I’d only spent a few minutes in his company.
One more glance at the piano and I took a deep breath, told myself that nobody inside the showroom knew me, they wouldn’t be expecting a grade eight-level piano recital, and that I could play some scales or arpeggios with ease and without judgement.
A smartly dressed sales assistant caught my eye and smiled. ‘Can I help you?’ he asked.
‘Yes, I, erm… I haven’t played for a couple of decades and I’m thinking it’s time I got back into it. I’d love to try one of the pianos, but I’m not in a position to make any buying decisions today. Playing again is a big thing for me.’
‘I completely understand, and a piano isn’t an impulse purchase anyway. Most of our customers like to come back several times before they decide to buy and some don’t buy at all. What type of piano interests you?’
‘An upright, but if there’s any chance of also playing a grand piano, that would be incredible. I’ve never played one before.’
‘Consider it done! My name’s Michael and I’ll look after you this morning. How about you warm your fingers up on a few of the uprights before your grand piano debut?’
He took me over to the first row of upright pianos and pointed out some of the key differences.
‘I can rattle off all the details for you but, if you haven’t played for twenty years, my guess is you just want to crack on.
Choose your instrument and enjoy it. You can take as long as you want and ask as many questions as you need.
There’s a selection of music on that table you can help yourself to. ’
My hands actually shook as I placed them over the keys.
I decided to start really simple with a C-major scale, right hand only.
I pressed middle C with my thumb and scarcely made a sound.
Clearing my throat, I pulled the piano stool a little closer and played two octaves of the scale before adding in my left hand.
Mrs Kellerman had drummed the scales into me and I played them as easily as breathing so why was I wasting my time on beginner activities?
I glanced over to the table of sheet music Michael had pointed out and rummaged through it, my mind buzzing with each of the melodies.
An allegro piece – the musical term for fast and lively – might be a little too challenging for my fingers after such a long absence.
I settled on ‘Gymnopédie No. 1’ by Erik Satie – a slow and tranquil piece some would recognise from a television advert for dark chocolate – and sat down at the piano, my fingers poised over the keys.
You know this piece so well. You can do this!
And I could. My fingers knew exactly what they were doing. I told Michael I’d spotted the sheet music for ‘Clair de Lune’ in the window and he swiftly retrieved it for me to play next, my fingers drifting across the keys with ease, happy thoughts of my mum floating across a lily pond in my mind.
Before long, I was playing faster, more demanding pieces, my heart soaring with the joy of creating such beautiful music. I’d forgotten how incredible getting lost in the music could feel, like soaring through the heavens, feeling so alive.
‘It’s like being at a concert,’ Michael said, beaming at me. ‘Did that feel good?’
‘Fantastic. I can’t believe how quickly it came back to me.’