She nods.
“And?” I demand, so very curious.
“It’s strange,” she says. “But I can definitely hear more.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” She nods, and I know she’s trying to control her smile. “Like, I could hear you and Kevin talking as I walked down the corridor. Normally, I don’t hear people until I’m in the room with them. And in the car on the way back here, Heather had her radio on,and I could hear it almosttooloudly. It was ABBA, so I told her to turn it down.”
“Of course you did,” I say, laughing, imagining it only too easy.
“It’s a strange sound, though. It makes voices sound a little robotic. A bit like aliens. But Dr Gupta says that will get better with time. My brain will get used to it.”
“So you only have it on your left ear right now?”
“Yes, for now. He wants to see how I get on for the next few months with just one before we try another.”
I close the small distance between us, squeezing her tightly. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Well, the real test will come recording or performing.”
I pull back. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know what I’ll do if singing sounds … weird. Like, I know I’m known for shouting and all, but I still need a tune. I still need to hear a melody. What if all of that goes out of whack with this thing.” She taps the side of her head.
“Let’s try it,” I say, and I disentangle myself from her, grab her hand and lead Pia to my music room. I sit us both at my piano stool – spare a brief moment thinking about what happened here a few days ago – and then, with a blush in my cheeks, I place my hands on the keys.
“What shall we sing?” I ask.
“You,” she says with a hesitant look on her face. “You sing.”
My smile grows slowly. “Oh, I know what I’ll sing.”
Pia rolls her eyes. “As if I can’t guess.”
But as I play the opening chords, it becomes clear from Pia’s wide eyes and open mouth that she really can’t guess. When I start singing the first line of “Trying to Forget About You,” she looks completely flabbergasted.
I get halfway through the first chorus, when she stops me, her hands landing on mine.
“How … how do you know that song?”
“I heard a recording of it. You sang it in Amsterdam, that night, before I saw you.”
“A recording?”
“Yes, it was on Radio 1.”
“Shit, yes, it was.”
“I heard a rumour about it and got Nora to pull far too many strings to get a recording. I had it with me every day for the last few weeks of our tour, played it on my Walkman every night. It didn’t take long to learn.”
I’ve never seen Pia speechless, and maybe I should make more of this moment, but I want to sing the rest of the song to her. So, I gently place her hands back on her lap, and I go back to singing and playing.
To her credit, Pia lets me finish the song. Even as the last note sounds out through the room, she doesn’t say anything. Somehow, I know the hearing aid helped. And somehow, I also know that my song choice had an even bigger impact on her.
This is all confirmed when she brings my face to hers for a long, deep kiss and I feel the undeniable moisture of tears cooling on her cheeks.
CHAPTER 35
