Variations on a Haunting Theme

by Alan Millard

  Miss Carter’s voice brought him back to the present. ‘Hadn’t you better be off to your next lesson?’

  ‘Sorry miss. I was thinking about the music.’

  She looked surprised and gratified. ‘Did you like it?’

  Telling her he did was all she needed to enthuse about the virtues of the piece.

  This was the first time a pupil had shown any interest. She explained that the tune played on the strings underneath the melody was called a ground bass. John took in every word. The more he learned the more he wanted to know. What really interested him about the piece even more than the sound it produced was its form. He realised music like this was built on structure, pattern, logic and symmetry. It was like mathematics. He’d happily have stayed all day talking but Miss Carter’s next class was lining up and it was time to go to his next lesson. The next lesson was Maths and although he was late Mr. Clinic made nothing of it and seemed more than pleased to welcome him.

  All of the teachers apart from the games master thought of John as the model pupil. His schoolmates tried to befriend him at first but as he made no attempt to reciprocate they soon gave up. He was dismissed as a boring swot who was best left alone which suited him. He was only interested in work. For him the second week at school had been a success and had kept him from worrying about the imminent move. When Friday afternoon arrived he walked back to the home for his last meal. Mr. Bidgood had arranged to pick him up at seven o’clock. He ate his dinner looking around at the others. He’d never formed close relationships with any of them and although he wouldn’t be missing their company it was strange to know that this was the last time he’d see them.

  After dinner he went to his room and packed. The tin with the photo was where he’d left it at the bottom of his locker still untouched. He put it with the rest of his belongings into the small suitcase which had been bought for him as a leaving present and went down to the lounge where Mrs. Flowers was sitting in her chair waiting for him.

  ‘You will come and visit us won’t you. We’ll want to know how you’re getting on.’

  ‘Of course,’ John promised but he never did.

  It was odd living with another family. To begin with he appeared only for meals and spent the rest of the time in his room. As soon as he came in from school, he disappeared upstairs, closed the bedroom door and buried himself in his homework until he was called down for dinner. Henrietta went to a private preparatory school in an exclusive part of town where the well-to-do lived. She was usually home before John practising on the piano while he did his homework. Without realising he unconsciously absorbed the musical patterns drifting up from the room below which he would later come to know as five-finger exercises, scales, broken chords and arpeggios.

  Mr. Bidgood usually arrived home at six thirty. He was proud to be the manager of a men’s outfitters shop in the High Street which sold both ready-to-wear and bespoke suits. Bespoke, he enjoyed telling John on several occasions, was the tailor’s technical term for made-to-measure. He also took pleasure, especially after a glass of wine, in sharing the tricks of the outfitter’s trade over dinner. John lost count of the number of times he’d heard how the salesman would surreptitiously clench and gather the excess cloth at the back of an oversized jacket so that the customer standing in front of the mirror would be fooled into thinking that it fitted perfectly. ‘Trade secrets, my boy, trade secrets. Never let on that I told you!’ he’d say whenever the tale was repeated. Taking his cue from Mrs. Bidgood and Henrietta John learned how to chuckle with them as though they were all hearing his anecdotes for the very first time.

  The weekends followed a set routine. On Saturdays Mr. Bidgood left for work earlier than usual on what was the busiest day of the week. John stayed in his bedroom completing his homework until Mrs. Bidgood and Henrietta left for town. As soon as they’d gone he’d then set off for town himself to spend the rest of the day on his own. After wandering aimlessly looking in shops he’d make his way to the Cadena Café and sit at his favourite window seat watching the world go by. From the café he’d go to the library, exchange his books then climb the stairs to the town’s museum on the upper floor. Although he’d seen every exhibit there was always something he wanted to see again. He especially liked the photos of the town’s development over the years and the stuffed animals in glass cases. There was a Penny Farthing bicycle, a collection of old tools, more than enough to keep him amused and away from the house and Henrietta’s friends who came on Saturday afternoons. He disliked their whispering and giggling which embarrassed him. When he eventually made his way home he’d go to his room and wait to be called down for dinner. Saturday nights were spent in front of the television until it was time for bed.

  On Sundays he helped Mr. Bidgood wash and chamois the car. After tea he went with them in the car to St. John’s church for Evensong. They always sat in the same pew halfway up the nave. The vicar was a tall, pious-looking man whose brown sandals poking out from beneath his cassock looked oddly incongruous with the rest of his vestments.

  Although John had no belief in God he enjoyed the ritual and the language of the prayer book especially the words, Lighten our darkness, we beseech thee, oh Lord; and by thy great mercy defend us from all perils and dangers of this night... which echoed something he identified with. But most of all he enjoyed the thrill of hearing the organ blast out some tumultuous music at the end of the service especially when the organist played what he’d later learn was a fugue with its intricate, mathematical structure. The congregation took the first note as their cue to leave. John stayed and listened for as long as he could until he was forced to follow the others without hearing how the piece ended. All the way home in the car the music resounded inside his head.

  After several weeks John asked if he could sit in the front room and watch Henrietta practise the piano. Mrs. Bidgood wondered if something sinister was behind the request. He’d never made any attempt to befriend Henrietta and he normally tried to avoid her. Now for some inexplicable reason he wanted to be alone in the front room with her. She hoped he wasn’t having unwholesome desires. ‘Why would you want to do that?’ she asked.

  ‘Just to see how she does it?’

  ‘Haven’t you ever seen someone play the piano?’

  ‘Not close up. I’ve tried but Miss Carter sits with her back to us and the organist is hidden behind a curtain.’

  Trusting it really was the music and not Henrietta that fired his interest she said, ‘We shall have to ask Mr. Bidgood what he thinks first - and Henrietta too. But if they’re both happy I don’t see why you shouldn’t.’

  Mr. Bidgood thought anything that enticed him away from his room was worth a try. Henrietta was more than pleased to have an audience. She relished the thought of being able to show off her talents in front of anyone, even John. Her parents took little interest in what she played. ‘Come and listen whenever you like,’ she said, ‘but you mustn’t talk when I practise. I have to concentrate, especially on the difficult pieces or when I’m learning something new.’

  John promised and asked when he could start. ‘Straight away if you want,’ she said and leading him into the front room she began to play an easy piece she knew by heart and could play without making too many mistakes. For the next few weeks whenever she practised John watched her fingers and matched their movements with the printed notes. He rarely spoke except to raise technical questions she couldn’t answer. Given permission to have a go he selected one of the simpler pieces and played it without a fault. When Mr. Bidgood heard he asked if John would like to learn and seeing the smile on John’s face said, ‘Then learn you shall.’

  The arrangements were made and their lessons would follow on from each other. A week later they rang the bell and waited for Miss Price to open the door, ‘Ah, Henrietta,’ said Miss Price, ‘and this I take it is John.’

  John guessed Miss Price was probably in her earl
y twenties but her baggy cardigan, tweed skirt and flat shoes all conspired make her look older. She was shorter than John and painfully thin. She held out a fragile hand for John to shake. He held it as gently as possible in case it should crumble in his grip. ‘Do come in,’ she said. ‘Henrietta will show you the way.’

  John followed Henrietta into the lounge, a cramped room furnished with two arm chairs, a matching settee and an upright piano with Chappell and Co. Ltd. London emblazoned in gold letters on the underside of the lid. John was invited to sit while Henrietta had her lesson. Miss Price sat beside her with notepad and pencil. As John sank back into one of the chairs a plump ginger cat gave him a threatening stare before scampering out of the room. John sat in silence listening to Henrietta’s mistakes until his turn came.

  Miss Price produced a book for beginners and placed it on the piano stand.

  ‘The first thing we have to do is find middle C,’ she said but before she could show him where it was he placed his thumb on the right note and played through the first tune faultlessly. ‘Excellent,’ said Miss Price looking surprised. ‘Perhaps we should turn to the next page.’ Again John played every note with apparent ease and then continued playing through the other pages until he reached the end of the book. Miss Price looked shell-shocked. ‘Have you had lessons before?’

  ‘No but I watched Henrietta then did what she did. I know some of the scales too.’ He demonstrated using the correct fingering.

  ‘And you read music?’

  ‘Yes. I watched Henrietta and compared the notes she played on the keyboard with the notes on the page.’

  Miss Price had never before come across anyone like him. ‘Well, we’ll have to find out what you can’t do and start from there.’

  In the weeks and months that followed the Bidgood’s piano was in constant use. Henrietta had to be told when to begin practising and John when to stop. By the end of his first year at Grammar school he played music well beyond Henrietta’s capability and skipping the earlier exams was later entered for Grade IV which he passed with distinction two weeks before his second Christmas with the Bidgood family.

  Four years were to pass during which John excelled in all he did but was he never at ease with family life. The Bidgoods accepted him as a well-behaved young man whose need to be distant and self-contained was understandable in a child who had never known his parents and had been brought up in a children’s home. The relationship between John and Henrietta was never anything but awkward. He was guarded in her company and she envied his talent. Mr. and Mrs. Bidgood had hoped they would be like brother and sister though they never were.

  Henrietta gave up piano at the age of twelve when she moved from prep school to an independent day school in the centre of town. At thirteen she had the figure of an eighteen-year-old and seeing John as a tall and passably handsome teenager she toyed for a while with the idea of tempting him into something more than a purely platonic relationship. She began by waiting at the bathroom door in a see-through nightie while John was getting washed ready for school and she made no attempt to conceal herself when he came out and found her standing there. John always turned away blushing and rushed back to his bedroom embarrassed by the encounter. One day when her parents were out and John was reading in his room she took a bath and called out to him asking for a clean towel from the airing cupboard. Not knowing how to refuse he darted in and out of the bathroom hurriedly depositing the towel in her outstretched hand. In spite of attempting to avert his eyes he caught a brief glimpse of her in the periphery of his vision and fled back to his room appalled by the vague impression of pink, naked flesh. Henrietta realised he would always be more interested in books and music than her and eventually abandoned her attempts to seduce him.

  At school his progress was unstoppable. Mr. Clinic encouraged his mathematical brilliance by inviting him to his house for extra tuition at weekends. Miss Carter nurtured his interest in music by engaging him in erudite discussions about musical composition after school. Piano lessons with Miss Price were for both of them the highlight of the week. By the time John reached his final year in the sixth form he was predicted to pass a string of A levels and get a distinction in his Grade VIII piano exam. Both predictions proved to be correct.

  At church he befriended the organist and after a few lessons was invited to play for Evensong. It was in church during a sermon on Corinthians 12 and the gifts of the spirit that John wondered what use he should make his own talents and what he should study when he went to University. Henrietta had long since stopped coming to church and the Bidgoods knowing how John liked to stay for the closing music drove home without him after the service leaving him to walk home alone. As the last people filed out of the building and the organist played Bach’s St. Anne Prelude and Fugue the answer concerning his future at university came to him as suddenly and as clearly as St. Paul’s enlightenment on the road to Damascus. Bach’s St. Anne was an architectural masterpiece just like the church building. He recalled the first time he’d come to St. John’s with the Bidgoods and had made the same connection between music, mathematics and architecture although at that age with little knowledge or understanding. Architecture combined the elements of music and mathematics. And Architecture was what he would study.

  ***

  A cool breeze was blowing through the churchyard and with the sun beginning to set I began to feel chilly. ‘Do you think we might go somewhere warmer?’ I suggested.

  ‘Of course,’ Howard said. ‘I’m afraid I was carried away while you’ve been sitting here patiently getting cold and wondering when I would get to the point. It’s just that I wanted you to know as much about John’s background as possible. There is a point I assure you and I shall get to it soon but by all means let’s move. We can sit inside the church.’

  As we strolled across the grass towards the porch I thought about John and marvelled that a child with his unfortunate background could achieve so much. Inside the church Howard asked where I’d like to sit and wanting to get into the spirit of the story I proposed we should sit in a pew halfway up the nave close to where John and the Bidgoods would have been. Howard agreed and as soon as we were seated he continued with the story.

  ***

  After John had passed his exams he was offered a place at Cambridge to study architecture. His departure was marked with due ceremony by the Bidgoods who behaved as though their own son was about to leave the nest and embark on the next stage of his life. But in truth his absence from the household was hardly noticed apart from the piano becoming nothing more than a silent item of furniture to be dusted and polished.

  For John the next twelve years passed in three stages, the Bachelors degree which he passed with first class honours, the MPhil and, finally the PhD. He returned to the Bidgoods during vacations and for longer periods between each of the degrees, periods which he spent acquiring the necessary practical experience working for Hoskins, Dyer and Blake who were more than happy to employ him on a temporary basis. Little can be said about his social life at Cambridge. He spent most of his time studying and keeping well away from the female students whose interest in him was a constant source of unease and bewilderment. The only friend he made was a male music student from Corpus Christi who smuggled him into the college precincts to give him access to a piano and the chance to further develop his skills. On completing his university education he was offered a permanent senior position at the Hoskins, Dyer and Blake where he soon earned enough to put a deposit on a large house close to town, purchase a Steinway grand and at last live independently away from the Bidgoods.

  Very little happened over the next thirty years. John remained in the same house and went to the office every day. He arrived early and stayed late. His evenings were spent either reading or listening to music and playing his new piano. He usually stayed home for his annual holidays although in his later years he travelled abroad, always to the Continent mai
nly to look at the architecture and attend the famous concert halls. He visited places associated with the great composers. He explored the haunts of Bach in Leipzig, Mozart in Vienna and Beethoven in Bonn. He admired the Palace of Versailles, the Acropolis and the Coliseum. He saw Don Giovanni at the La Scala Theatre in Milan and La Traviatta at the Verona Arena. But as soon as the breaks were over he was happy to get back to work. Only on hot days in summer did he leave the office and take the short walk to St. John’s churchyard with a pack of sandwiches and a flask of coffee to gaze at the church from his favourite bench. When his time to retire came he hoped to slip away quietly at the end of the day without any undue ceremony but Mr. Hoskins and Mr. Dyer insisted on calling a lunchtime assembly to praise his achievements and present him with an engraved carriage clock. Everyone clapped though few knew anything about him or what he’d been doing over the last thirty years shut away in his office.

  His retirement days were as uneventful as his working life. Five years had passed when July arrived with a scorching heat wave which lasted for several weeks. Quite what possessed him he never knew but one day for no apparent reason he had the urge to have his lunch in the churchyard just as he’d done on those rare, sunny days when he’d still been working. He made some sandwiches, filled a flask and set off for town. After finding a place to park he bought a paper and walked to the churchyard. Finding his favourite bench was empty he sat in the middle of the seat and placed his paper and flask on either side to dissuade others from sitting next to him.

  A number of people were already there when he arrived. Young female shop assistants and office girls were lying on the grass sprawled out like starfish on a beach wearing next to nothing. John did his best to ignore the bare limbs and fixed his eyes on the church with its golden Hamstone absorbing the sunlight. The scattered flower beds were filled with roses but the grass was parched and brittle except for odd patches in shade under the trees. The midday sun had melted into a spinning disc that seemed to be burning a hole in the pale blue sky. John was still in his buttoned up jacket and firmly knotted tie. Taking a sandwich he picked up his paper and scanned the headlines.