The Cellist's Notebook

by Kittie Lambton

  When he reached England, he thought back to his days training to be an agent of the Special Operations Executive and how he had been so rigorously tested on his command of dialects by people from a variety of regions. By using his talent for mimicry to imitate all manner of language and accents, he had passed all the observational exercises with flying colours.

  He remembered the day that he was to leave for France, and the wish to tell his family all about what he had been posted to do but his family had no idea that he was embarking on a secret intelligence mission. He boarded the train that day knowing just how difficult the mission would be and the likely possibility that he would never return. With mixed feelings of pride and apprehension, he had held his sister close knowing how much she adored and would miss him.

  As the train emerged from the Channel Tunnel he was back in England. Changing trains, he waited patiently at St Pancras Station for his connection before taking a window seat and settling to read. He could not resist trying out his English accents again and took on a Liverpool accent and later a London Cockney accent to test whether he still had a command of dialects. He discussed the weather and how long the journey would take, with a lady who sat opposite to him and she did not appear at all to question whether he was French or English. He supposed that she would have asked him had she queried the tone and inflections and chuckled quietly to himself. Opening a book and putting on his reading glasses, he read a little before drifting off into a long snooze.

  When he awoke, he recognised the differing and altering countryside as the train travelled northwards and tried to recall station names and whether he remembered what they used to look like.

  When he finally reached Cumbria, the strong feeling of homecoming surprised him. The rich wide-open spaces with dry stone walling, crows in the trees and fells in the distance felt very familiar to him. He was elated knowing that the years searching for his past were almost over. Fleetingly he remembered hiking up Blencathra with his friends in his younger days but could not recall the names of his friends. Hikers got on and got off the train in their hiking gear and cyclists stood patiently at station gates waiting for train connections. He opened the window to smell the fresh air of the fells and longed to hear the sound of the curlew again and the many other birds he used to see and hear in the garden and surrounding countryside.

  He thought about his cello and about his music notebook with so many of his compositions and felt a sense of wonderment that both had been kept for all these years. He closed his eyes and pictured the house, with its entrance hall, stained glass window of a tiny bird on the wide front wooden door, of the Aga in the kitchen and the log fire in the sitting room. He pictured his old bedroom and the bathroom and the oak tree outside. He had wondered whether he should have contacted his sister Rose before leaving Paris. However, he had decided that the emotions of the reunion would be best shared in person. His journey was to end the way that it had started; by hugging his sister.

  Slowly his excitement could hardly be contained but he gave little away to the surrounding commuters and travelers who were going about their day. Finally, the train stopped in Carlisle and he walked to the front steps of the station. He stood awhile with his suitcase and looked about trying to remember the station. He had taken a hotel room in the city that night and bought a huge bunch of flowers for his sister for the following day. The taxi driver did not have a clue where the house was but knew the nearest village. Leni hoped that as he neared the little village, he would remember exactly how to find the old house.

  As the car sped along the tiny roads and mud splattered lanes, he passed an old red tractor and a flock of sheep on the road. Rolling down the window he felt right at home amid the smells of the countryside.

  ‘Nice flowers you have there,’ the taxi driver said. ‘Are you visiting a friend?’

  ‘Indeed I am,’ Leni confirmed catching the taxi driver’s eye in the mirror.

  For the remainder of the journey, Leni sat in silence and his mind wandered. Leni’s memory had more or less come back to him except for the period he spent in Paris just before the bomb blast. In the hospital, he was told the full story of the bombing when he had first entered the Metro. During his recovery in the ward, a young French woman had left flowers by his bedside and when he was able to open his eyes and begin the process of healing, the lady thanked him and explained that the time he had entered the Metro and went down the steps there had been a number of shudders and bombings nearby and she had rushed, liked many others, and stumbled hurting her ankle. He had taken off his thick coat to shelter and assist her. When the bomb hit and the shrapnel had gone into his chest and thigh, she had remained in the most part unscathed and believed this was due to the protection of his body and the thickness of the reefer jacket he had sheltered her with.

  Her kindness turned to friendship and in time they fell in love. They married after the war and went on to have two children. Leni had worked in the offices that were in charge of rebuilding the city following the devastation from the allied bombings. He was quick to learn and his bright intellect was soon acknowledged as he took up his post of District Planner.

  The taxi driver pulled up at the village square. As if it were yesterday, Leni remembered exactly the directions from the village and directed the driver to the foot of the paddock at the old house. Stepping out, he touched the stone wall and knew that he was home. He walked slowly hearing the faint sound of a Bach prelude being played on the piano in the distance. A white cat leisurely walked towards him and caressed his leg as he sat for a moment on the wall savouring the sight of the big old house with its dark brown reddish sandstone. He walked to the side gate and slowly past the apple trees which were hanging low, laden with fruit. He could smell the rich smells from the herb garden. He took his time and entered the door, gazing at the stained glass that he knew so well. Hesitating slightly he did not quite know how to signal his arrival so he simply rang the little bell and retreated back from the front step.

  His mind flashed back to when he was twenty, standing in the doorway tall and handsome and awaiting his sister to come running out to hug him. He took a deep breath. He knew the door would be open but waited for some time. The loud piano music continued, and he wondered whether his sister could have heard the bell. He stepped forward and gently pushed open the door and waited before ringing the bell once again. The piano stopped and he heard the familiar sound of the music door opening. Rose stepped out into the hall.

  As Rose stood for a moment, squinting her eyes towards the light, she looked toward the figure silhouetted in the doorway who was holding a huge bouquet of flowers.

  ‘Perhaps a little later than expected my dear Rosie,’ Leni said calmly. Rose knew it was her brother standing there the moment she had stepped into the hall and she rushed towards him. She hugged him tightly and they both wept for joy in disbelief. ‘I knew you would come back,’ Rose cried out. ‘I never gave up hope.’

  Babu took to his seat and both Rose and Leni sat together beside the warm Aga talking for many hours into the night and for many days thereafter until they had completely caught up on each other’s lives.

  Chapter 12

  Lucille cycled round to her grandfather’s house taking some freshly prepared chicken flan cooked by her mother in the basket at the front of her bicycle. She approached the door and after knocking a number of times noticed that her grandfather was not at home. She found the front door key under a plant pot at the back of the house in its secret location next to a plum tree. Opening the door, some post from the letter box fell to the floor unopened. She called out, searched the kitchen and the living room and then ran up the stairs and into his bedroom. The bed was neatly made, and an envelope lay on the top blanket with Lucille’s name written clearly in her grandfather’s handwriting.

  She opened it and saw a cryptic code in her grandfather’s hand which she needed to break in order to understand the letter. She loved her grandfather’s coding which had become a game betwe
en the two over the years. This one looked like an alphabet shift and Lucille looked for cribs within the text which would help her break the code.

  Cribs are common phrases or words that help establish the secret of the code. This was how the British codebreakers deciphered the coded messages generated by the Enigma Machine at Bletchley Park which was used by the Germans during the Second World War. Curiously, the only clue she had was that her grandfather had recently produced codes for her that were written in English and not French so with that in mind she smiled, laid back on the bed and looked to break the secret code.

  She first looked for single letter words and there were only two her grandfather had told her to look for if ever translating an English code. The one letter words ‘i’ and ‘a’. With this she could see the shift in the alphabet used in the code. Cleverly, her grandfather had not signed his name in code at the end of the letter as this would have been the easiest of cribs to use. The letter read as follows:

  “n fr xt ymfspkzq ymfy dtz mfaj wjrnsiji rj tk rd ufxy fsi gwtzlmy fqq rd rjrtwnjx kqttinsl gfhp yt rj. n fr sty xzwj nk dtz mfaj knlzwji ymnx tzy djy gzy qneenj, dtzw ujs kwnjsi, mfx f sfsf bmt nx fhyzfqqd rd xnxyjw! jrnqd uqfdx rd tqi hjqqt n knwxy qjfwsji ts fsi ymj qnyyqj unjhj dtz bmnxyqji fsi pstb xt bjqq nx rd tbs htrutxnynts. n htrutxji ny rtwj ymfs ktwyd djfwx flt! rd rjrtwnjx fwj fqq kqtbnsl gfhp fsi n htzqi sty bfny tsj rtrjsy qtsljw yt ywfajq gfhp yt rd xnxyjw ns hzrgwnf xt n yttp f ywfns. uqjfxj htsyfhy jrnqd fsi qneenj fsi xjsi ts tzw wjlfwix! dtz bnqq rtxy uwtgfgqd mfaj wjfi ymnx gd ymj ynrj n bnqq mfaj fwwnaji ymjwj. n it mtuj yt xjj dtz xtts. uqjfxj bfyjw rd uqfsyx fsi ymj qjrts ajw-gjsf ns ymj xnyynsl wttr! lnaj rd qtaj yt dtzw ufwjsyx. rd wjfq sfrj nx ufuf qjsn”*

  * Lucille’s translated transcript of the puzzle can be found at the back of the book

  Chapter 13

  Leni was quite moved hearing all the stories of Rose’s life. His sister had not changed one bit and radiated the same warm glow and twinkle in her eye that she had always had. Rose asked lots of questions and was fascinated to hear that he had been selected by the British government as part of a secret intelligence agency called the Special Operations Executive. As one of the SOE’s spies in France, he needed to blend in as a local Frenchman. The SOE excelled at blending their officers into communities. The organisation even employed seamstresses and tailors to create bespoke clothing common to the area the officers were assigned to.

  Leni showed Rose the photos of his wife and children and talked about the frustrations he had had since the bombing to find out his true identity. Never once did he suspect that he was British but since his memory had returned, he was astounded at his ability to go back to speaking English with such fluency.

  On the third day, Rose walked into the sitting room with Leni’s old music notebooks in her hand. ‘I think it is time we finished the music which brought us together again,’ Rose said, smiling.

  Leni made a fire and the siblings looked through the old paper pages together, examining each of the pieces. Laying her hand on his they set about planning how they would finalise the music and spent the afternoon at the piano playing through the original compositions.

  Getting the cello out of its case was hugely moving for Leni. It had recently been tuned and was ready to be played. Leni did not know whether he would be able to remember how to play it but as soon as he took a seat and placed the bow onto the four strings he relished playing each of the open strings and was able to play fluently, following the music quite easily. ‘Just like riding a bike,’ he said. ‘You never forget.’

  Taking to the writing table with his new manuscript notebook, with the original music manuscript laid out in front of him, Leni continued composing the music with the intention of completing the whole work. He closed his eyes allowing the music to flow into his mind and gradually completed the score. He decided to revise all the music pieces in the book and thought that it would be a lovely gift to have the music published one day. Excited by the prospect, Leni worked daily on his music compositions, taking short breaks in the garden to reflect and rest as Rose busied herself about the house.

  Chapter 14

  Upon breaking the code, Lucille cycled home and told her parents the whole story. That evening, Lucille’s father rang the Peters family and it was agreed that both families would travel to Rose and Leni to spend Christmas together. The plan was to keep the visit secret from Emily and Lizzie. Leni and Rose had insisted that they wanted to surprise Emily and make her Christmas extra special.

  ‘Papa Bertrand or should I now call you Leni,’ Lucille laughed, ‘I have contacted Lizzie and Emily to say ‘hello’ but I have not told them about you getting your memory back nor who you actually are. This means that they still don’t know your true identity! I’ve told Mum and Dad and they were fine with this. Are you okay too?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Leni said, ‘this will be the best Christmas present for everyone and what a treat for Emily. If it wasn’t for her love of my melody and playing the cello well, maybe my memory would never have come back!’

  Leni looked at his old leather satchel and opened his new finished music manuscripts. All the pieces were now complete before Christmas. Rose and Leni practised through each of the music pieces together in the music room with the little burner flames keeping them warm in the wintery climate.

  Christmas plans were well underway. Having the whole family to stay with Emily, Lizzie, their Mum and Dad, Lucille and her parents, this would be quite an occasion.

  Leni brought in the Christmas tree, and after some time of getting it to stand straight and turning it to the best orientation, they delighted at putting the lights up and hanging the old decorations. Old George the butcher delivered the turkey and ham to the house; he had single-handedly told almost the entire village about Leni’s return and it felt like nearly all of the villagers had visited the house over the past weeks to welcome him home and take the opportunity to savour Rose’s renowned baking and chutneys. Even the local Chronicle sent a reporter round to write an article which became front page local news the following week. News spread fast and it was not long before the national newspapers and broadcasters were in contact wanting to run the story. Leni and Rose were struck with the interest in their story and agreed to meet with journalists early in the New Year.

  The house was set with holly, ivy and a piece of mistletoe that hung above the main door to welcome each visitor. Lucille and her parents were the first family to arrive and had been very excited to travel over to Cumbria for the first time. They took a flight to Manchester and travelled on the train for the remaining part of the journey.

  There were many presents under the tree and Rose was so happy to have the house full of people at Christmas. Lucille brought her flute from France and it wasn’t long before there was music playing all over the house. Lucille’s parents also played instruments and had brought their clarinet and violin along. Lucille and her mother looked through the bookshelves together and found lots of trios, quartets and duets which were played joyously together. That night the family settled in front of the fire to plan how they were going to surprise Emily and Lizzie. They were due to arrive in the car the following day and the forecast was for heavy snow to start falling late in the afternoon, so they hoped they would miss the storms on their way up.

  The following day, the house was quiet as the families lay in bed a little longer than usual. Nana Rose was first up and made fresh bread, kneading the dough and preparing the ingredients ready for the Christmas feasts ahead. Babu yawned and snuggled on his favourite chair and Rose caught a glimpse of the old photo of her dear brother Leni from all those years ago. Somehow, she had always known in her heart that her brother was still alive and that he would come back home and as she stood reminiscing, a silent tear ran down her cheek. Leni came into the kitchen and put on some Duke Ellington jazz music from the 1940s. He took Rose is his arms and the two danced around the kitchen floor, giggling together.

  Lucille was the next to come down for some br
eakfast and Leni reached out to her, took her arm and the three glided across the floor.

  Lucille had hardly slept through the night as she masterminded Emily’s arrival and the big surprise. She sat down for her breakfast and proceeded to tell them both about her idea.

  ‘We shall practise this morning playing some of the music together and when you go to the door and welcome the family, they will walk through to the sitting room, sit down for some tea and Papa Leni can start to play alongside Great Aunt Rose,’ she went on, ‘they will hear this music and when they come in, the penny will drop! You must all hide in the sitting room because they will all walk round from the car and I would hope that they don’t look in because they will see Papa Leni!’ With the plan in place the family rehearsed their pieces together ready for the big surprise.

  The house was abuzz with activity. As the family practised various music pieces, Rose prepared the Christmas Eve lunch and sang along to the various classical and Christmas music being rehearsed. A text came in at midday from Emily letting her know that they were now in Penrith and it would not be long before their arrival. Rose looked outside into the garden hopeful that they would arrive before the storm started. Before long, away in the distance, the car could be seen, and it rumbled and jolted slowly along and up the hill.

  When the car stopped and the hand brake went on, little snowflakes began to flutter about the car and Emily jumped out. Babu meowed from the side of the house and came bounding towards them as they opened the little gate. Emily bent down to pick him up in her arms and was struck by the distinct sound of a cello and piano playing from the house. She stood up and thought she was hearing the distinct melody of her Great Uncle Leni’s piece. The music then stopped abruptly.