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 tokiss 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?’
