All the food is laid out. I am too worn out from my near crisis to care. I settle on a rock nearby and rest, engulfed in my self-pity.
Before long the adults are all chatting and gossiping and their children are off playing tag, run sheep run, I spy, and hide and seek. Such shrieking and joyful giggling!
I keep all my eyes on our girl, wondering what she’ll do with all this noise. She’s come a long way, but she still doesn’t like loud noises and surprises. I’m prepared for a situation. But, it doesn’t come. Instead, she picks up Heart’s leash and walks away from the playing field.
She decides to go for a quiet walk instead of screaming or banging her ears. I am so proud of her. I watch them walking away. They walk farther, and farther…and suddenly they are out of sight. Oh dear! Did anyone notice? It doesn’t seem so. I’d better go. I buzz and zoom and soon catch up with them as they begin a hike into the heather. How lovely. The bees are hovering over the field daisies. I hear a cow lowing a ways off, and the tinkling of her bell.
Then I hear the sound of rushing water. I flip and zip, keeping my eye on the hikers, and stopping now and again to check out sheep dung heaps.
Over the next small hill is a rushing stream, clean, clear water. I see them. Heart drinks and Rebecca watches the water moving. She bends over and drops a blade of grass in the water. She’s fascinated by its trips and turns, and how quickly it floats away. She sits next to the water. Her pretty dress is in the mud. She floats a stick. It dives, it tilts, it catches on a rock, spins around; free again, it keeps going. She sails a leaf. She drops a daisy in for a swim.
She takes off her shoe and sits it on the water. It makes a lovely boat. Rebecca laughs aloud. Heart barks at her. Heart enters the water, lapping with his long tongue. He trots down the current to retrieve the shoe which is traveling faster and faster. Just as he gets to the shoe, it spins around and disappears.
I fly reconnaissance. The shoe is gone, down the water chute. Heart looks over the falls. Rebecca’s shoe is spinning in circles below under the falls. Heart crosses the stream and runs down the other bank barking. Rebecca is running to see what Heart is doing.
Oh no. Not good. It’s frustrating not to be able to talk. I start buzzing circles around her, hoping to distract her. I don’t know what will happen next, but I’m certain it won’t be something good.
Rebecca stops and watches Heart on the other side of the stream. She starts to follow him. The rocks are slippery and the current is strong. Just as she steps out of the stream on the other side, her foot slips. Rebecca goes over the falls, just like her shoe. I smash my face onto the rocks. I can’t look. Heart is barking and barking, racing to and fro, sending a shower out with his wet paws.
He runs to Rebecca who is a wet lump under the falls. Her eyes are closed. Heart whines. He sniffs her face, he licks her hair. He barks. I think he’s trying to wake her up. The water pours down on her. He carefully takes her pinafore in his mouth and he tugs her gently. He backs up awkwardly, his large feet slipping in the mud. Rebecca’s arms and clothes catch on the rocks. Each time, Heart repositions himself in the stream, takes a fresh hold, and drags Rebecca farther away from the falls toward the bank. I pace and flit, buzz and hop. I want so much to help him. It seems forever before he gets her out of the water and into the grass on the other side.
He goes back into the water and retrieves her shoe. I buzz around and land on Rebecca’s forehead. I feel the big lump beginning to grow on her pale face. Heart is whirling around and whining, pawing Rebecca. Suddenly he stops. He sniffs the air. His ears and tail are on alert. He picks up the shoe and tears off up the bank, crosses the stream and runs across the heather. I stay with Rebecca. I walk around her eyes and across her cheeks. Perhaps if I persist, she will awaken.
I can only imagine the commotion when Heart shows up at the picnic ground barking, wet, leash dragging, and tossing Rebecca’s shoe around for everyone to see. I don’t know how long it takes for him to get anyone’s attention and raise the alert, but finally, finally, I hear voices and running feet. Heart is barking and leading the way.
One last dance across her eyelids and I’ve got to make myself scarce. Rebecca’s hand almost catches me. She’s swatting the tickle off her eye. Hurrah!
The group gathers around, talking at once. Rebecca sits up. A purple egg decorates her forehead. She’s soaked to the skin. Everyone has a suggestion how to lift, carry, and evacuate. While they’re making their elaborate plans, Rebecca takes hold of Heart’s neck and lifts herself, unsteadily at first, and follows Heart up the bank and across the lea.
Rebecca, with a knot on her head, Heart with mud on his hairy feet, and me with a near heart attack, all sleep all the way home in the comfortable Daimler. I still love a picnic, but this wasn’t one of the better ones.
Chapter 15
Piano Tuner
The mother has a hard time forgiving herself for what happened to Rebecca at the picnic when she felt she should have been watching her. Rather than watching her more closely, she keeps us all close at home after that. The very day I’m grousing about the Summer of Our Discontent, the mother comes up with an inspired idea. It did bring pleasure to our summer evenings.
“I believe it’s time to get this old piano tuned. I do enjoy playing in my leisure,” says the mother. “I’ll check in town to see if the piano tuner is available.”
Carrie dusts and polishes the piano. She opens the top of the piano bench and removes stacks of sheet music.
“Maybe someday I’ll learn to play piano,” she says to Rebecca. She places some music sheets on the piano. “There. All set,” she says. “Mother can play now.”
The girls go outside, and I fly down to check out the music. I start on the first note and make my way across the staff. Ah. I do love Beethoven.
“Here we are. Right this way.” Mother enters the room with a gentleman and his tool box. “If you need anything, just call for Butler. I’ll leave you to your work now.”
I watch from the embroidered tapestry on the wall, camouflaged in the busyness of the artwork where I know I can’t be seen. I’m most interested in watching this master at his work. The tuning fork fills the air with unusual vibrations. I can feel the tremor in my fragile wings. Now I see we have company. Rebecca is peering around the door, watching. This is the same Rebecca who spent many days sitting in her clothes closet hoping to not be seen.
“Hello, there,” the tuner says to Rebecca, without even looking her way. Rebecca, of course, says nothing.
“Do you play the piano?” He’s involved in his work and doesn’t notice she’s not talking. But I notice she’s moving closer. That’s unusual.
The piano tuner ignores her and concentrates on his tuning fork and each key. Rebecca’s fingers are out of her mouth and she’s extremely interested in each sound the tuning fork makes.
When at last he’s satisfied with each tone of every key, he rubs his hands together and winks at Rebecca.
“Now, the fun comes. I get to try ‘er out for sound.” He slides across the piano bench. Hands poised above the keyboard he suddenly stops and looks at Rebecca. He pats the bench beside him.
“Sit?” he asks. She doesn’t move. He breaths in and straightens himself and begins to play. The air waves resonate with beauty. I can hardly contain myself. Rebecca is completely enraptured. She slides unnoticed unto the bench beside the piano tuner, so drawn to the sound she hasn’t realized she will be beside him. She watches every move of his hand. In her lap her fingers begin to move and tap. She looks like she’s shelling peas.
The piano tuner plays and plays. He could have been a concert pianist, he’s that good at it. At the end of his piece he makes one more slight adjustment. Then he plays a few bars. He loses concentration and hits one wrong note. His face registers the pain that must have caused to his ears. To me, it was all beautiful. Standing in the doorway, the mother applauds.
“Excellent, Mr. James. Thank you for the concert. I’ll pay you so you can be
on your way.” She pays him, thanks him, and says Butler will show him out when he’s ready.
The piano begins to play again. Slowly at first, but keen and precise. I sway back and forth on the tapestry, listening in pure delight. And then I realize. The piano tuner is gone. I turn my eyes toward the piano. Rebecca? Yes. Rebecca.
The mother returns saying, “Oh, Mr. James, sorry, I thought you’d gon—
She stares in shocked silence. Carrie stands beside her. Butler stops in the hall. Cook looks in. Gardener, listening in the herb garden, smiles and hums along.
The mother took tentative steps toward the piano. “Rebecca, how are you doing this? I can’t believe my ears. This is Beethoven’s “Pathetique Sonata.” How are you…can you read music? Have you heard this before?”
I’m jumping up and down. I want to tell her she just learned it from the piano tuner. We all heard him playing. And now she just knows. Our girl is brilliant!
“I began to learn this as a girl. I worked and practiced and I’ve never played it as well as I dreamt I could. You have heard it once and you can play it? This is…remarkable.” The mother is almost whispering to herself. She collapses onto the settee, looking so pale I thought she might pass out. Carrie thinks so too and runs to her. Cook brings water.
“Did you hear her?” The mother looks around at everyone. “Did all of you hear that?”
“Quite extraordinary, I’d say,” says Cook. “Makes a body want to kick up her heels a bit!” And she did just that, swishing her skirt and pointing her toes.
“Flawless. An amazing performance, madam. Perhaps Rebecca learned to play before she came to us.”
“No. I am certain not, Butler. I don’t recall any piano on the premises at Somewhere Else. And, furthermore, I don’t believe the head mistress there would have attended to it. No. I’m sure this is the first time Rebecca heard it, or played it. Although, I do recall thinking the first time I met her, that for some reason, I thought she was a pianist. What was it?”
“Mummy do you suppose Rebecca and I might take some music lessons?” Carrie asks.
The mother doesn’t seem to hear her, she’s thinking of something else.
“I remember now, what it was. She was fingering in her lap. I thought she was practicing fingering. I thought she played piano. I was wrong, of course. That was just the peas, the thing she likes to do. But this…this is too extraordinary. Rebecca? Come here, please.”
Rebecca slides off the piano bench and comes quietly across the room to the mother.
“Rebecca, do you enjoy playing the piano? That,” she points, “is the piano. You play very nicely.” Rebecca hugs herself and turns toward the piano. She walks to it, collects the sheet music and returns to the mother.
“What? You want to know about this? This is music. These are notes. One can play a song by reading these notes. May I show you?”
The mother placed a piece of sheet music before Rebecca. Carrie came to her mother’s side to learn as well.
“See this?” She points at a note. “This is how it sounds.” She played the note. “We’ll start at the beginning,” she says. “Every time I read a note I will play it. Watch.” She began to play the piece, slower than normal and as simply as possible.
Rebecca watches her fingers and the notes at the same time. Now me, with my eye configuration, I could do that. I’m not sure how Rebecca is managing it. After a few measures, the mother asks, “Would you like to try?”
Rebecca begins to play. She makes a perfect imitation of the mother’s presentation, including a missed note. Her fingers fold naturally, gently. She sways in rhythm.
“That’s it,” the mother says. “She can play it after hearing it. Oh my. I must do something. Though, I don’t know what it will be, or what it should be.”
We enjoy listening to Rebecca learning to play, mimicking everything she hears. What a marvelous gift she has! The mother studies her old music books and music sheets in order to play them well because Rebecca plays exactly what she hears, including mistakes.
Eventually the mother inquires to find a piano teacher for both the girls.
Chapter 16
Guy Fawkes Day
Another summer comes and goes. Rebecca grows taller, and older. I grow slower, and older. Heart, too, has lost his puppy habits. After our spring picnic the mother felt it best if we all stayed close to home for the rest of the summer. So when she comes up with a plan for a fall outing we are all surprised.
Rebecca, Heart, and I watch her unload her parcels, all tied with string, from the boot of the Daimler. What is she doing now, I wonder? The mother is becoming famous for her surprises. Butler comes to her assistance. Rebecca and Heart disappear on the other side of the car, then vanish.
“Where’s Rebecca, Butler?”
“Oh, Miss is out and about somewhere with the dog, don’t you know,” he answers. Well, he’s right. We’re all parked beneath the lilac bush. But, I imagine, not for long. The mother has a plan.
The next thing I know we’re all being loaded into the Daimler along with all the surprise packages, the picnic hamper, ground covers, and torches for walking at night. Jackets are tossed in on top. Where are we going? Rebecca and Heart look questioningly at each other.
We bump along and watch the neighborhood disappear behind us. We are soon into the countryside.
“This is a holiday, Rebecca,” the mother says. “It’s Guy Fawkes Day. Lots of fun. There’s going to be some loud noises and bright lights, but you mustn’t be frightened. It’s all fun, you see? It’s called fireworks! Come now, hop out of the car.”
We unload the motor car on a moor in the countryside. Other people are showing up as well. From the roof of the car I stare at the people walking toward us. They all look just alike. They all have the same face. How can that be? That’s how a Muscidae holiday might look, but humans are an assortment.
Heart notices and growls low. Rebecca sees it too, and stares with confusion. She makes whining noises, and covers her eyes.
“Look, Rebecca, look at all the Guy Fawkes masks. Everyone looks like Guy Fawkes this afternoon. Isn’t this fun? Look, here’s a mask for you, too. Put it on.”
Rebecca hides her face in her hands, refusing to look at the masks. Looking at the same faces with all my eyes has a dizzying effect on me. Five hundred faces too many! Heart isn’t happy about the whole thing, either, and leans into Rebecca.
“Rebecca, you must tell Heart not to be afraid. Pet him. Help him to be comfortable,” the mother says.
“Perhaps we should tell her who Guy Fawkes is,” says the father. But, the mother is too busy to think about it.
Rebecca puts both her hands on Heart and whispers in his ear. He sits, then lies down. She sits beside him with her arm over him, running her fingers through his coat. She’s swaying slightly, looking at the ground, forgetting about the masks. She might have been counting the blades of grass, for all I know of her. Heart doesn’t take his eyes off the people in the masks.
“Here, Rebecca, a mask for you, too. And look at me, I’m wearing one also. Isn’t this fun?”
Now, from where I sit, on top of the car, I think it looks confusing. How do they tell one from another? Why does everyone want to look like Guy Fawke? He’s not very pleasant looking, actually. Well, that’s this fly’s opinion.
Rebecca doesn’t look up. She doesn’t like the masks; doesn’t wish to see them. The mother and the father spread the ground covers over the heather for everyone to sit on. The father unloads the hamper, wearing his mask. They spread the food around the cover. Rebecca turns her back to the father. Heart’s ears lay back. All my eyes take in the eggs, salmon sandwiches, lettuce, peaches and scones. Minding my manners, and in self-preservation, I wait until they finish and walk away before beginning my picnic. Did they forget to bring water?
Rebecca was given a small wire hoop on a handle with which to blow bubbles. The mother is enthused about it. Rebecca is slow to begin on her own. She pokes the bubbles a
nd is sad when they pop. She blows bubbles that land on Heart’s back. Carrie laughs and chases the bubbles. They pick flowers and kick a ball around. They forget about the masks until others show up to startle them and laugh. Heart growls, Rebecca hides her face.
The afternoon gives way to evening. Jackets are put on and buttoned up. I take advantage of the open car door to buzz inside for the rest of the evening where it is a tad warmer. I don’t have a jacket.
I watch the fireworks from inside the car. Heart bolts at the first explosion. The father grabs him by the collar and puts him inside the car with me. With the next burst of stars and bangs Rebecca sways, ears covered. The mother puts her inside the car. Heart lays across her lap reassuring her, while she assures him. Here we are, the three of us again.
The mother and the father, Carrie, and all the other Guy Fawkeses ooh and aah until the display is over. At long last we are on our way home, bumping across the moor back to the road, and finally back to our neighborhood.
“Wasn’t it a wonderful day, Rebecca?”
Rebecca pounds her ears.
Rebecca goes upstairs to bed. Heart drinks his bowl of water dry, then joins Rebecca upstairs. I zip through the house, then up the stairs to the bedpost. I hope I don’t dream about Guy Fawkes masks tonight.
Rebecca & Heart Page 9