‘Pain builds character.’
He sat beside her as the app chirped cheerfully, ‘Welcome to Piano Pals! Let’s learn middle C!’
Fern winced. ‘This is so humiliating.’
‘Shh,’ Daniel said, mock serious. ‘We’re artists.’
They spent the first fifteen minutes trying to locate the notes on the keys, laughing every time they hit the wrong one and the app offered passive-aggressive encouragements like ‘Almost there!’or‘Oops! Try again, you brave musical warrior!’
Fern pointed at the sheet. ‘Okay, so if this is C, then this must be…’
‘F?’
‘No, E.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely not.’
They tried again.
It was awkward and slow, more like codebreaking than music-making. Fern played the left-hand notes while Daniel tried to fumble through the melody line, but nothing sounded like a real song.
‘This is hopeless,’ Fern groaned, stretching her back and shaking her hands.
Daniel cracked his knuckles. ‘One more go…’
‘Stubborn, aren’t you?’
‘Determined. Besides, I think I’m starting to get a feel for it now.’
It wasn’t perfect, but his guitarist’s ear was picking up the intervals. He could predict where the melody wanted to go, and as they leaned into it, the rhythm began to fall into place. Slowly, the awkward clunks turned into hesitant chords, then repeating phrases, then something almost beautiful.
After nearly an hour, it happened. Daniel struck a sequence of notes, and Fern, reading ahead on the manuscript, followed with a soft chord. It rang out, clear and unmistakable.
Fern grabbed Daniel’s arm as his fingers hovered above the keys. ‘What?’ he said.
She turned slowly to look at him. ‘That’s it.’
‘What is?’
She lifted her finger, pointing to the progression. ‘That’s the chorus from “Echoes of the Past”.The vinyl. Nathaniel Loring’s song. It’s the same melody.’
Daniel’s eyes widened. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Positive, listen.’ She played it again.
They looked down at the manuscript together, seeing the same chorus repeated in Matilda’s fluid notation.
‘You’re right. But I don’t understand. This is Nathaniel’s song; he made millions from it.’ Then her heart began to pound. ‘What if… what ifMatildawas actually the one who wrote this?’
Daniel leaned back slightly, staring at the piano keys. ‘What are you saying? That he stole it? She may have just given it to him.’
‘I don’t know.’ Fern looked at the paper again. ‘What did she mean, “the truth is in the music box”? He may have claimed it was his and went on to become world famous on the back of Matilda. That would have been downright hurtful.’
‘Maybe she found out just before the wedding,’ Daniel added. ‘Nathaniel stole it and it made him famous. Or we could just be clutching at straws.’
‘What about the inscription on the record? It said he “owed” her.’
