Lessons in Love

by Belinda Missen

  A few frustrating missteps were soon drowned out by the fluidity of song and the crescendo of realisation. It had been almost eighteen months since I’d had a chance to play, yet it came back to me quickly, easily, as if it were a physical part of me that I could never shake. My fingers danced across the old keys with renewed confidence, from ‘Clair de Lune’ which, at the right note, swung into the more difficult Sleeping Beauty Suite.

  I was playing, lost in what a beautiful, fulfilling feeling it was. A well that had been left to dry was trickling with water once again. I paused at a wrong note, listening to the hum again as I rearranged fingers and tapped out a beat, only to find it drowned out by a slow clap.

  Marcus was sat on the sideline benches, as we had been on that afternoon weeks ago where we could barely form full sentences at each other.

  ‘Don’t stop on my behalf.’ He held out his hands. ‘In fact, I want you to keep playing. I love your fancy music.’

  With a smirk, I broke out the first few bars of ‘Chopsticks’ as he crossed the court, laughter wrinkling the corners of his eyes.

  ‘That’s what I’m talking about.’

  I wriggled across to give him room on the stool beside me. ‘How was your day? I don’t think I’ve seen you around.’

  ‘I know. I feel awful. We’ve been forced apart by the powers-that-be today.’ He pressed a hand against his chest and offered his best downtrodden face. ‘However, had I known this was on offer, I would’ve run to listen.’

  ‘You know, if you were as clever as you say you are, there are videos of me on YouTube.’ I wriggled into his side, possibly to get a better reach of the keyboard, though maybe it was more likely just for the physical contact that was at once both familiar and thrilling enough to curl toes. From the corner of my eye, I could see Marcus move about; hands in his lap, hung loose to his side, and then on the rear of the seat behind me. I didn’t flinch as an arm landed around my shoulders and pulled me closer. ‘Has anyone ever told you how smooth you are?’

  ‘Just call me chunky peanut butter,’ he mumbled, pressing his mouth into my shoulder, not quite allowing himself to kiss me. ‘And, yes, I did know, because someone directed me to them.’

  ‘I wonder who that might have been.’ I smiled.

  ‘I’ll never reveal my sources,’ he said, voice tinted with laughter. ‘You are astonishing though, but even that word doesn’t feel like enough.’

  ‘It’s more than enough,’ I said, dropping my hands into my lap. ‘It still feels a little rusty, a few bits here and there, but it feels great.’

  ‘You are enough.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  A crashing stumble through the door was followed by scattered papers and a bumbling Jack, who stopped us in our tracks. Marcus shuffled away from me, though I was sure Jack hadn’t seen anything. He was too busy gathering up all that he’d fallen through the door with, papers seesawing their way through the air. We watched, waiting for him to approach.

  ‘Was that you, Ellie?’ He crossed the basketball court quickly. ‘Playing, I mean? I could hear you on the way across.’

  ‘It certainly wasn’t me.’ Marcus grinned.

  ‘Wow, okay.’ He blew his cheeks out. ‘Amazing.’

  ‘I just wanted to get an idea of how much work needed doing,’ I said.

  ‘How long do you think this is going to take?’ Jack dragged a chair up beside me. He unwound his bun, threading his fingers through hair that was far more luscious and conditioned than my own, before piling it all atop his head again. I made a mental note to ask what brand of conditioner he used. ‘And Philbie will pay you, right?’

  ‘Normally, that depends on what condition the instrument in. It could be two hours, could be six.’ I got up from the stool and pulled my tools from my handbag. ‘Thankfully, this one doesn’t seem too bad. And, no, he’s not paying. It’s fine, really. It’s nice to be back around the big old things.’

  After my quick play, I was sure this would be an easy enough job. With my leather tool pouch spread about the floor like a surgeon’s rainbow, I unfasted the case and pulled it away. It tired and yawned, telling me it had been an age since she’d found herself naked in front of anyone. That made two of us, I thought, placing the case on the ground beside us. Well, maybe more her than me.

  ‘Could be all week.’ I waved the tuning lever in his face.

  With his elbows on his knees and chin in his hands, Jack watched quietly. His interest wobbled between fascinated and questioning as I pushed wedge mutes between strings and fiddled with a chromatic tuning app. Life had become so much easier since the world of apps exploded. I managed to get through the entire octave from Middle C before either of my colleagues spoke.

  ‘You know, I should know how to do this, but I just don’t,’ Jack said. ‘It’s mesmerising.’

  ‘It’s simple, really. Listen for the warbles between the strings, we want that little messy vibration to clear up. I could probably teach you.’ I pinched my fingers together as I worked on the next string. ‘Can you hear that?’

  ‘It’s so crisp when it’s in tune.’ He stopped still, his eyes focused tightly on the felt striking the string. ‘Should I be worried about my job right now?’

  I scoffed. ‘Hardly.’

  ‘Are you classically trained?’ he asked.

  ‘Does it matter?’ Marcus bit, and quickly.

  We both turned to look at Jack, his eyes darting nervously between the two of us. I won’t pretend I didn’t enjoy the show of unity. It was nice to know someone had my back when it counted, especially considering this was a question I’d come up against often. I’d seen my share of disbelieving faces when trying to get into recital groups.

  ‘I’m not trained classically, or as a music teacher, Jack,’ I assured him, leaning back on the stool. ‘You can relax. It’s just a hobby that kept me occupied throughout university. Kept me out of trouble.’

  Marcus snorted. ‘A hobby if you consider the MSO a garage band.’

  ‘What?’ Jack asked. ‘You played for the MSO?’

  I shook my head. ‘Auditioned, didn’t quite make the cut.’

  ‘And, as usual, she’s being far too modest about her skills.’

  I swivelled, glaring at Marcus.

  ‘YouTube.’ Marcus talked around me and gave Jack two thumbs up. ‘You’ll find a great video of her, a few actually. I mean, she is fully clothed, but she’s playing with a symphony orchestra and it is off the charts good.’

  ‘Stop it,’ I hissed.

  ‘What? You should share that. You’re good. You’re better than good, and who gives a fuck if you’re not specially, classically, formally trained. Does it matter? I’ve got half a mind to buy this piano from the school and pay you to play for me. I’ll sit there in the evenings with my smoking jacket, eating my chocolate biscuits and drinking. Daisy will have her biscuits, too, and you can play for us each night. I’ll throw coins in your hat.’

  ‘Or, even better, I could teach you,’ I teased. ‘Then you can serenade yourself. It’ll be the gift that keeps giving.’

  Marcus shrugged a shoulder. ‘Works for me.’

  ‘I hate to interrupt whatever’s going on here.’ Jack’s head bobbed about anxiously. ‘But I need to be somewhere shortly. Shall we work through what we have before it gets too late?’

  Set against the backdrop of sharpening piano strings, and my occasional cursing, Jack talked us through each of the classes, the songs he’d picked for them to perform, and where they were at in terms of preparation. He’d made crude videos on his phone and, after sitting through each of them, assured us they were going to be as ready as they could be on the night. In the end, he spent less than thirty minutes with us before disappearing under some pretence of an appointment.

  I watched the door swing shut behind him and focused my attention back on Marcus, who was already watching me.

  ‘What?’ I asked.

  ‘Show me how to play something.’

  ‘Like what?’
<
br />   ‘I don’t know.’ He shrugged. ‘Something easy.’

  ‘Okay.’ I held my right hand out over the keys. ‘Put your hand on mine.’

  Carefully, almost painfully slowly, Marcus slipped his fingers along mine. His palm, warm and surprisingly heavy, sat atop of mine. The innocence of the gesture didn’t translate to how I felt in the moment. A crackling fire raged through my belly and up into my chest cavity, and the first prickles of heat rolled up my neck.

  ‘You ready?’ I searched his eyes, big, beautiful, and bottle-green, trying to work out what was going on inside that brain of his.

  ‘Yes.’ His tongue darted out across his top lip, retreating quickly. ‘What are we playing?’

  ‘“Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star”.’

  Chapter 21

  I never did finish tuning the piano. It was far too big a job, though I promised myself I’d come back at lunchtime the next day to pick up where I left off. I left a mute wedge between a set of strings, because there was no way in hell I’d remember where I was up to without a lot of guesswork, covered everything up, and went home for the night.

  I’d hoped Penny was home so I could tell her about my excitement at having a piano to myself, uninterrupted for a good period of time. I was effervescent with the knowledge that my skills hadn’t just packed up and left me, and I was already yearning for more. But she was nowhere to be seen.

  That was fine. Her absence gave me time to plan, think, and work out where I’d stick a piano should I manage to find one at a reasonable, don’t earn much money, price. Walking around the house with a bowl of mac and cheese, I tried to find a spare space in the apartment.

  Size was an issue. I’d always known this place was small, but maybe I could push my bed up against a wall. It would look very sullen teenager, but it could work. Another option was to clear a corner of the lounge, but I wasn’t sure Penny would be keen on that. Everything in that room, as cramped as it was, had its place, and I feared a piano might be too much of an ask. One final thought: there was always the garage.

  Strip lighting buzzed at the flick of a switch. It was cold, and probably a little damp, so not ideal, but if it were only temporary and I began looking for my own place, it could work. I didn’t want to count Dad’s home as an option, because I wanted something for me, to take with me, that I could access whenever the feeling arose.

  For now, it looked like I might have to shelve the idea, at least until I found my own place to live. Although, if I were honest with myself, Marcus’s suggestion that he buy it and I teach him to play it wasn’t the worst idea ever. It just meant dealing with things that had been fizzing away in the background like a papier-mâché volcano set up for a science fair.

  I decided it was best not to bring it up with Penny until such time as I had a solid plan. She didn’t get home until the early hours of the morning anyway. By that time, I was busy sleeping, dreaming about how soon I could get back to the gymnasium, and back to the music.

  * * *

  ‘Marc, I’ve gotta ask, what’s with the suits?’ Kevin asked loudly enough that I was sure even Phil would be able to hear in his office through doors and brick walls. It was certainly designed to get everyone’s attention.

  Kevin had followed me into the staffroom and Marcus, who was standing by the sink trying to knot a tie he couldn’t seem to get right, was his first order of business. ‘You look like you’ve got a stick up your arse. It’s not as if we’re in a corporate office. I mean, unless you’re trying to impress someone.’

  Not a bad observation, coming from someone who looked like he hadn’t seen the inside of a department store since Cyndi Lauper was singing about girls wanting to have fun.

  Kevin waggled his eyes at me in a way that said he obviously expected some level of loyalty-based support. It didn’t go unnoticed, but it did go unanswered as silence ate the room alive. If the air was more evidently dead, I’d have thought we’d simply slipped off into the vacuum of space. With nothing to say, people simply stopped and stared. Toast began to burn, and Gemma whipped her hand away from the urn, an overflowing cup sending boiling water over her fingers. Jack covered his mouth in a vague attempt to stem laughter.

  The worst part? Not one single person stood up in defence of Marcus. There hadn’t even been a muted rumbling. Remembering all the times I’d wished I’d had someone in my corner, I knew I had to say something, anything.

  ‘Kevin, we’ve known each other a long time, so correct me if I’m wrong.’ I cleared my throat and turned towards him. ‘But does this school not have an anti-bullying policy? Do you know where I can find a copy to read.’

  Kevin’s mouth flopped about like a fish out of water, but no sounds came out.

  ‘Ellie, it’s fine,’ Marcus mumbled from the corner of his mouth. ‘Really.’

  ‘No, actually, it’s not,’ I argued, with pointy finger for added effect. ‘I’m sure I had to read and sign an anti-bullying policy when I accepted this job, and I sure as hell know I read it when I was planning my classes. And I absolutely have had to refer to it to deal with students recently. Now, if we are supposed to teach students to treat others with respect, how are we to do this if the adults themselves are jumping on each other for something as simple as how they’re dressed? And what does it matter to you, Kevin? He looks good. He’s well presented, neat and tidy. There’s nothing wrong with putting in a bit of effort.’

  A teaspoon clattered against a table. I looked around the room, at the slack-jawed faces watching on, and all I could think was, why the hell was I the only person airing this?

  ‘It was just a joke,’ Kevin mumbled.

  ‘Why?’ I asked. ‘Because someone called you out on it?’

  Kevin mumbled an apology and offered his hand to Marcus, who shook it without so much as a word of acceptance. Idle chatter filled the air slowly, washing over the moment like it had never existed. With Marcus still standing there, I offered him a faint smile, poured milk in my coffee and walked away.

  In my office, I stared blankly at the computer monitor. For the life of me, I couldn’t work out what I wanted to do first. Everything felt a little too jumbled, like the very last of my nerves had been trodden on. I settled for checking emails and waiting for my wobbling stomach to subside.

  There was a gentle knock at the door. I swivelled my chair to find Marcus. A slow smile curled the corners of his mouth.

  ‘Can I come in?’

  ‘Always.’ I waved him inside.

  Pressing the door shut with a dull click, he fished around in his pocket, producing two Creme Eggs. ‘My hero.’

  ‘Please.’ I stood to meet him. ‘He asked for it.’

  ‘Come here.’ Marcus settled on the edge of my desk. He grappled for my hip, catching his finger in a belt loop and pulling me between his legs. ‘Eleanor.’

  ‘What?’ I looked at him.

  ‘Thank you for what you just did.’

  ‘It just makes me so angry,’ I said with a deep sigh as I fiddled with his tie. ‘Him and Jack. They’re both people I’d looked up to when I was younger and they’ve both, in the space of a day, turned out to be complete idiots. It’s disappointing, I guess.’

  I lined the thin end of his tie up with his ribs, crossed the thick end over, wrapped it under, over, and slipped it through before tightening the knot. The entire time, Marcus watched me quietly.

  ‘Do I want to know how you know how to do that?’ he asked.

  ‘My grandfather taught me,’ I explained. ‘My dad is a little useless at doing formal well. Grandy knew this and was well aware my dad had a lot of job interviews. So, he decided to teach me.’

  ‘Not your dad?’

  ‘Yeah, Dad could be a bit stubborn in the face of helpful advice.’ I tried to move away from him but was stopped by two warm hands on my hips drawing me back into him. Now, he was so close I could feel his thighs against mine, his long, deep breaths tickling the tip of my nose. ‘Anyway, I would go to my grandparents every weekend. Grandy ta
ught me how to knot ties and play the piano.’

  ‘I think I like Grandy.’

  ‘He was a great man,’ I said. ‘Found his own son infernally frustrating, but I understand that. Dad was young when he had me. Or when he and Mum did, anyway.’

  ‘How young is young?’

  ‘The edge of seventeen,’ I joked.

  ‘Jesus, they took that far too literally, didn’t they?’

  ‘A little, yeah,’ I said.

  ‘What about you and me?’ he asked. ‘You think we’re too young, or too old?’

  ‘For what?’ I asked.

  ‘You and me.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Let’s do it.’

  My brows shot up under my fringe. ‘Is that schoolyard speak for sex, or are you getting at something else?’

  Lips downturned, he shrugged. ‘I’ll take that option, too, but I was talking about going on a date.’

  ‘A date?’

  ‘A proper date. None of this hanging out to work, or other people pushing us together. You and me, of our own volition. We’ll go and get dinner somewhere, maybe catch a movie.’

  ‘Big words,’ I teased.

  ‘I know, I apologise. I understand they’re difficult for you,’ he fired back as I laughed. ‘Come on, what do you say?’

  I sighed heavily.

  ‘That’s not good,’ Marcus said. ‘Sighing is rarely positive.’

  ‘No, that wasn’t a bad noise,’ I said. ‘I’m trying to put what I’m feeling into words.’

  ‘All right,’ he said slowly. ‘Did you not enjoy Friday?’

  ‘I … Friday was incredible,’ I blew a raspberry as I stumbled over my words. ‘Spending time with you recently has been a joy.’

  His smile, which had been so full of hope, faltered. ‘But?’

  I threw my head back. ‘I don’t know!’

  ‘Eleanor, I adore you. You’ve shaken my little world up, and I love it. Look at me, I’ve walked into work without a tie on. I’m wearing glasses because I still haven’t picked up my contacts. I’m running late for the second day in a row, and the best part is I don’t even care. For the first time in years I feel truly relaxed and at ease with who I am and what I’m doing because of you. You get it. You get me.’