A Second Chance

by Shayne Parkinson

  ‘A good price if you’re not bothered about the quality,’ Mr Winskill answered curtly. ‘When do you want this wheel of yours by?’

  Bill hesitated, as if considering a matter of some weight. ‘I might leave it just now,’ he said after a long pause. ‘I was thinking of taking a look at the new bloke’s place.’

  Mr Winskill’s scowl darkened. ‘Don’t come complaining to me when the wheel falls off your cart and you break your neck.’

  ‘Well, it won’t cost anything to look. And it might save me a few shillings.’

  Bill made ready to ride off, deliberately being slow about it, and shooting covert glances at the wheelwright.

  ‘I’ll knock two shillings off, with you being a good customer,’ Mr Winskill said abruptly.

  ‘That’s very good of you,’ Bill said, careful not to let his triumph appear in his face. There would be no need to show his father the account before getting the money from him to pay the wheelwright; Arthur knew perfectly well what they were usually charged for wheels. He had an excellent memory for prices. The two shillings Bill had just saved could go straight into his secret hoard.

  Over the following months those two shillings were joined by others, as Bill developed new skills at bargaining. Every purchase was subjected to scrutiny, to see whether or not he could save even a few pennies on it. He would allow the would-be seller to believe the purchase was all but settled, then begin to hem and haw, saying that perhaps he might leave it till the next quarter, or even hinting that he might find himself travelling to Auckland in the near future, where everyone knew things were cheaper. So adept did he become at these measures that he began to experience a certain coolness of manner towards himself. But he hardened himself against it, and remained steadfast.

  He felt only the tiniest prickings of conscience over keeping the resulting savings for himself, rather than handing them over to his father. The fact that he found the whole business so unpleasant, going as it did against his easygoing nature, made him feel more justified in keeping the money. But most important of all was that this was for Lily. She deserved this.

  Late in the year Bill received another letter from the piano shop. It surprised him, coming as it did unsolicited rather than in response to any approach from him. Once again, he had to find his way through the letter’s unfamiliar language before he could understand its import, and when he had done so he was torn between hopefulness and unease. The used Broadwood was still available, but he sensed that the firm was not happy with its presence.

  He recalled one or two rather grand shops he had seen when he had gone to Auckland with Frank; stores they had both found too intimidating to enter, knowing they would look out of place. Perhaps the owners of this piano shop, which prided itself on supplying only the finest instruments, were embarrassed by having on their premises a piano that had seen better days.

  When Lily was safely occupied elsewhere in the house, Bill retrieved the tin box he kept in a drawer and counted his money. Even with his recent hard bargaining, it only came to fourteen pounds, two shillings and sixpence. Still almost three pounds short of the seventeen pounds that was being asked.

  He dashed off a letter to the piano shop, assuring them that he was still interested but asking if any reduction in the price was possible. A reply came promptly. Its tone was polite but rather chilly. “After due consideration of the circumstances,” he was told, the piano was now being offered to him for fifteen pounds ten shillings. No further reduction would be possible. If this reduced price did not meet with his approval, and if he did not find himself in a position to accept their offer in the near future, “an alternative method of disposal” would be sought.

  Disposal! That sounded like getting rid of a dead cow. They couldn’t be allowed to do that to Lily’s piano!

  It was time for desperate measures. Later that same day, Bill lingered on the verandah when they had had their afternoon tea and his father was settling in for what he called reading the paper, although to anyone else it might appear that he was taking a nap. Edie had wandered out to the kitchen to help Lily with getting dinner on; Bill knew Lily’s heart always sank when Edie decided to help, and when he could spare the time he generally found ways of keeping his mother away from the kitchen at such moments. But just now it suited him to be alone with his father. Edie was inclined these days to forget within half an hour anything she had been told, but before forgetting it she was likely to repeat it to anyone within hearing.

  Bill decided to take a direct approach. ‘I want to get a piano for Lily,’ he said when he was sure they would not be overheard.

  ‘Eh?’ said Arthur. ‘Those things cost a lot of money, boy.’

  ‘I know. I’ve been putting a bit aside for a while now. There’s one I’ve got my eye on—secondhand, but a good brand. It’s a good price, too. Frank put me on to this place. He knows a bit about buying pianos,’ he pointed out before his father could bristle at not having been consulted first. ‘His seems to be lasting all right.’

  ‘That’s true enough,’ Arthur allowed. ‘A piano,’ he mused. ‘I wouldn’t mind hearing Lily play of an evening. I can’t be bothered going down to Frank’s all the time, I’ve too much to do here.’

  Bill made a noise vaguely indicative of agreement. ‘The thing is, I want to get on and buy it before someone else snaps it up. And I’m still a bit short.’

  Arthur narrowed his eyes. ‘How much?’

  ‘One pound, seven shillings and sixpence.’

  Now Arthur looked surprised. ‘That’s all? You’ve saved up all the rest?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Bill.

  ‘You haven’t done too badly, then,’ Arthur said with grudging praise. ‘I don’t give you that much.’

  Bill shrugged. ‘I’ve been at it for a good while now. Years and years.’

  He could have pressed his father; could have pointed out all the work he did, and how rarely he asked for anything. And that would have guaranteed an indignant refusal. Instead, he schooled his face into meekness, and waited as patiently as he could, watching Arthur’s thoughts play over his face.

  ‘Lily’s been a real help to your ma over the years,’ Arthur said at last. ‘You were lucky to get a good, steady woman like her.’

  ‘I know I was.’

  There was another pause; this one went on so long, and Arthur’s eyelids drooped so much, that Bill began to fear his father had fallen asleep. At last Arthur shifted in his chair, reached for his pipe and started fiddling with it, then raised his eyes to Bill’s.

  ‘Go and fetch the chequebook,’ he pronounced.

  *

  Bill sent off his order, along with the money, the very next day. Just before Christmas he received an acknowledgement, and an assurance that the piano would be sent early in the new year. On Christmas Day, when Frank’s family were at Arthur’s, Bill took the opportunity to tell Frank about the piano’s imminent arrival, and to discuss with him what could be done to keep Lily away from the farm on the day it came.

  ‘I want it to be a surprise,’ said Bill. ‘I don’t want her to see it till it’s all set up and ready for her.’

  ‘Hmm, and there’s a lot of fiddling about to get it put together and all, it’ll take a while,’ Frank said thoughtfully. ‘You’ll need to get the tuner out, too.’

  ‘The tuner?’ Bill echoed in sudden alarm. ‘Couldn’t I leave getting him out for a bit?’

  Frank shook his head. ‘No, you’ll need him on the day. I remember when we got ours, he had to give it a good seeing-to before it sounded right. Sorry,’ he added, seeing Bill’s expression. ‘I should have told you that before.’

  Bill shrugged off his apology. ‘Don’t worry about it. I’ll go and see him next time I’m in town.’ He pushed the new complication to the back of his mind. ‘So on the day it gets here, do you reckon you could keep Lily down at your place long enough for us to get it all sorted out? She’s usually just there for a couple of hours when she goes down to teach the kids.’

&
nbsp; ‘I’ll ask Lizzie. She’ll think of something.’

  ‘Don’t let on to anyone else, though—I want it to be a real surprise.’

  Frank smiled at him. ‘It’ll be that, all right.’

  *

  ‘Jam!’ had been Lizzie’s suggestion. ‘I’ll tell Lily to come down for the day, and we can make jam together. She’ll enjoy that.’

  Lily had been less enthusiastic about the idea than Lizzie had predicted. ‘Jam?’ she said doubtfully. ‘I’m not sure I can spare the time for that just now. Even if I could, it would suit me better to stay home and make it with Emma.’

  ‘But Lizzie asked specially, and she’s expecting you now,’ said Bill. ‘She said she’d get the kids to pick a lot more plums when I told her you’d come.’

  Lily blinked in surprise. ‘You told her I would? Without asking… well, that makes it awkward to refuse,’ she said, the slightest trace of a frown drawing her brows together. That was as close as Lily would come to scolding him, even if they had not had an audience. ‘I don’t know, Bill, I really don’t like to leave Emma on her own to look after Mother and Father all that time.’

  She had lowered her voice, but Emma had sharp hearing. Emma had also been taken into Bill’s confidence that very afternoon. She might be only twelve years old, but she was a sensible girl, and Bill knew she could be trusted with the secret, although he would not have said the same of her brothers.

  ‘I’ll be quite all right with Granny and Grandpa, Mother,’ Emma said. ‘And I can do a big load of baking while you’re out, without us getting in each other’s way.’

  Lily smiled. ‘You never get in my way, dear.’ She gave in gracefully. ‘In that case, it seems I’ll be making jam with Lizzie tomorrow.’

  ‘Good,’ Bill said, careful not to show how relieved he was. ‘I’m going into town tomorrow, I’ll drop you off on my way.’

  *

  The next morning Bill set out with Lily, complete with buckets of plums from their own trees, several boxes of jam jars and a half-full bag of sugar, on their way to Lizzie’s. It was all he could do to hide his anticipation; as it was, Lily noticed something of his mood.

  ‘You seem very cheerful, dear,’ she commented soon after they had left the farm.

  ‘I’m looking forward to that jam,’ he said for want of a better answer.

  Lily laughed in her quiet way. ‘I’d better make sure it’s specially good jam, then.’

  He dropped her off, then made his way into town to collect his piano.

  The Waiotahi was already tied up at the wharf, with the cargo unloaded, by the time he got there with the large dray that Frank had arranged for him to borrow from the dairy factory. With the help of several of the wharf hands, as well as some of the boys who always seemed to be hanging around the area, he soon had the large case holding the piano safely loaded, and was on his way home, the piano tuner riding alongside him.

  He had told Emma she could let her brothers into the secret as soon as their mother was out of hearing. The two boys, as well as Bill’s brothers Alf and Ernie, and Mr Reid the tuner, all joined in to help haul the piano into the house once it had been removed from its packaging, while Arthur stood by, leaning on his stick and giving instructions. The piano was pushed and pulled into the parlour, where Emma had been at work clearing a space for it and giving the area a thorough, though quite unnecessary, sweeping.

  With the piano in place, for the first time Bill could take a proper look at it. His heart sank.

  ‘My goodness, this instrument has had a hard life,’ the tuner said, echoing Bill’s thoughts. Where the wood of the piano could be seen through a layer of ancient grime, it was scuffed and scratched all over. Along one side, a strip of veneer had lifted from the wood beneath. The pedals and candle holders were so tarnished they were almost black. ‘I hardly dare hope…’ Mr Reid murmured as he opened his bag of tools.

  The boys, and Bill’s brothers, soon lost interest and wandered off, while Edie twittered away, largely ignored, and Arthur stared grimly at proceedings from his armchair. But Bill and Emma hovered near the tuner like anxious loved ones at a sickbed, hardly daring to breathe for fear of disturbing the healer at work.

  After what seemed a long time to Bill, though it was in reality only a few minutes, the tuner looked up from his work and smiled. ‘Well, the outside appearance is no reflection on the inside, I’m pleased to say. There’s no sign of rot, and nothing important is warped or cracked. I’ll need to replace a few of the felts, but that’s trivial.’ He patted the piano. ‘Its heart is sound, and that’s what matters.’

  Bill exhaled a slow sigh of relief and sank into the nearest chair. He watched the tuner at work, vaguely aware that his father was making a few caustic remarks about the foolishness of buying a piano sight unseen.

  ‘That should be quite satisfactory,’ Mr Reid said. He played a few scales, then packed away his tools and stepped back from the piano. ‘Now, who’d like to try it first?’

  ‘That has to be you, love,’ Bill told Emma.

  She took a step towards the piano, then stopped and turned to face Bill. ‘You don’t want to wait for Mother to have first go?’

  Bill shook his head. ‘I’m not going to be easy in my mind till I’ve heard a tune out of it.’

  He brought a chair through from the kitchen for her, making a mental note as he did so that he would have to see about getting a piano stool when he could next scrape together some money. Emma perched on the chair, frowned in concentration, and began a pretty little tune. Her playing was rather slow and deliberate, but the room rang with the strong, clear sound.

  ‘Very nice,’ said Mr Reid. ‘The instrument has a fine tone, as I’d expect of a Broadwood. It obviously hasn’t had the treatment it deserves, but I can see it’s found a good home at last.’

  ‘Yes, it has,’ said Bill.

  He saw Mr Reid to his horse. By the time he got back to the parlour, Emma had already taken to the piano with an armoury of dusters and polishing cloths. Arthur had removed himself from the scene of such womanly tasks, but Edie hovered about. Emma worked away vigorously, and Bill watched the operation in some awe.

  She stood up from where she had been crouched over the pedals. ‘That’s the best I can do,’ she said, studying her handiwork with a slight frown. ‘I can’t do anything about those really bad scratches.’

  ‘You’ve done wonders,’ Bill said. All trace of grime had disappeared, and generous amounts of polish had hidden the more minor scratches. The loose section of veneer, and the spots where it had been gouged through to the wood beneath, were still visible, and no one could miss the signs of the piano’s rough treatment, but its woodwork and brass gleamed, right down to the pedals. He put his arm around Emma and squeezed. ‘You’ll get as good on the piano as your ma is, now there’s one in the house.’

  ‘No, I’ll never play as well as Mother.’ Emma had a thoughtful, considered way of speaking, weighing each word carefully before she uttered it, that Bill was quite sure she had not inherited from the Leith side of the family. ‘But I think I might be quite good.’

  Bill planted a kiss on the top of her head. ‘I think so, too.’

  Under Emma’s direction, Bill pulled an armchair closer to hide the dangling veneer, which he told her he would make an attempt at gluing down when he had a moment; and she placed a cloth on top of the piano where an ancient water stain had defeated her polishing skills.

  ‘Time to go and get your ma, I think,’ Bill said. Emma’s bright eyes reflected his own eager anticipation.

  Lily was helping Lizzie and the girls wash up after their jam-making session, but Lizzie insisted that she leave as soon as Bill arrived. Lizzie exchanged a glance with Bill, who gave her a quick nod to indicate that all was well. Bill loaded the boxes of now-full jam jars, helped Lily onto the seat of the cart beside him, and set off, careful not to give away his eagerness by pushing the horse beyond a gentle trot.

  ‘Well, I won’t need to make jam again for
a while,’ Lily remarked. She sniffed delicately at one of her sleeves. ‘Goodness, I smell of plums.’

  ‘You could smell of a lot worse than that.’

  Lily laughed. ‘Yes, I suppose I could. I’m glad you came when you did, it was getting so warm in the kitchen—I was hoping I might manage a little time on the piano, but there really wasn’t a chance.’

  ‘That’s a shame,’ Bill said, turning aside to hide his smile.

  When they pulled up to the house he called Arfie and Will over to take charge of the cart, warning them with his eyes to say nothing about the piano. He walked with Lily into the kitchen, where Emma had the room to herself.

  Bill was still puzzling over how he could coax Lily into the parlour without giving away the surprise, when Emma took her mother’s hand.

  ‘I just want to show you something, Mother,’ she said, her tone giving no indication of anything out of the ordinary. ‘Come up here for a minute.’ Emma’s face was a picture of calm unconcern, although Bill knew she was almost as full of anticipation as he was himself. He watched her, impressed; he had had no idea that his daughter had such a gift for subterfuge.

  Lily allowed Emma to lead her up the passage, Bill following in their wake. Just before they reached the parlour door, Emma let go of her mother’s hand and stepped aside, allowing Bill to take her place. ‘It’s Pa who wants to show you, really,’ she said.

  Lily turned a quizzical face to Bill. ‘Whatever’s going on?’ she asked, a slight smile playing on her lips.

  The moment called for a touch of ceremony. Bill looped her arm through his, and ushered her into the room. Edie smiled benignly from her armchair, while Arthur was already regarding the piano with a proprietorial air.

  They were halfway across the room before Lily saw the piano. She stood stock still, and Bill felt a tremor run through her. He tugged gently at her arm until she began walking again, still trembling. When the piano was close enough to touch, she reached out a quivering hand that hovered above the keyboard, then slowly lowered until it rested on the keys, so lightly that it made no sound.