She closed her eyes and played the first song that came to her mind. Her bow barely touched the strings as she played an assortment of melodies, some longer than others. She allowed her mind to wander away with the highs and lows of the music, imagining the others who had sat on this very same divan and dreamed.
The sun shone in a cloudless sky as a young man strolled down a cobbled street, arm in arm with a young, blond-haired woman. They walked past many ornate buildings, even a great cathedral with golden domes that shimmered and sparkled in the sunshine. The couple looked so happy together. They were chatting and laughing, and she spoke with a strange, foreign accent. They were in the company of friends, most of whom were speaking a different language. However, this did not appear to bother the man. He was glowing; he looked so full of energy, so full of life.
Upon finishing her song, Alexandra opened her eyes to find the Maestro listening from a chair opposite her divan.
“Good morning, my dear. Please don’t mind me. I was just enjoying your music.”
“Oh Maestro! I’m so embarrassed!” she said, trying to push the vision from her mind. “I hope I wasn’t making too many mistakes!”
“Nonsense!” he said, chuckling. “I’m astonished at this gift you have for playing the violin. I wish I could have done that at your age. You know, I started when I was five, and even with all the dogged practice I had, when I was twelve I was nowhere near as good as you are now.”
Alexandra could feel her face warming at the compliment. “Thank you, Maestro. I don’t know that I deserve all the credit, though.”
The professor leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He looked plainly at her. She recognized that look in him; he always sat like that whenever he had something serious to say.
“When I first met you on that rainy day in the café, I knew you were different. When you asked, no, pleaded with me to teach you, I really wanted to do it, you know. I really did. I wanted you for a student. You were so enthusiastic, so eager to learn, so unlike your cousin, so unlike anyone else I’ve ever met. I’m such a stubborn old fool!”
Alexandra smiled politely. “All is forgotten, Maestro. Do you know if the restaurant is open? I’d not mind some breakfast. Would you care to join me?”
Joseph and Emma soon joined Alexandra and the professor for breakfast, and afterwards it was time to visit the conservatory. Alexandra hoped that after their visit they could go shopping and perhaps visit the luthier as her father had promised. This was one of the rare times she let her violin out of her sight. However, it was safely locked in their hotel room so she didn’t need to worry. After all, she reasoned there’d be no point carrying two violins.
On their way to the conservatory they walked past many interesting buildings, some with large canvass awnings, as Delmott’s Café had, while other shops and homes were clad with white-painted siding and elegant verandas. When they walked past one particular home, Alexandra noticed a group of girls, poorly dressed, lined up outside the front door as if they were waiting to enter.
“What’s that place, Maestro?” Alexandra asked.
“That, my dear, is a residential school for girls,” he replied.
“What does that mean?”
“It’s a special place for girls – there’s a different one for boys – who have no parents or whose parents are no longer able to care for them. They come from all different parts of the province to live and study here until they’re old enough to make their own way in this world.”
“Can they study music there?”
“No, I’m afraid not. It’s just a place to learn the basic fundamentals of life, and nothing more,” he said.
“It’s so tragic, Maestro, to think of girls my age living in that horrible place and not being able to do anything creative!”
The professor nodded his agreement as they walked past the residential school and around the corner. At last they arrived at their destination – the conservatory.
The conservatory was located on the corner of Dundas and Yonge Streets in a rather plain-looking building. The professor had said that it wouldn’t be officially open until September, but he was well acquainted with the people who would run it, and thus could take his guests for a tour. Even before reaching the building, Alexandra could already hear the sound of cellos, basses and all manner of screeching from the string section, occasionally punctuated by the blast from a brass instrument. They climbed the steps and went inside.
“Welcome Professor!” said the attendant, “What brings you into town?” Alexandra was pleased that everyone knew the professor, even in a giant city like Toronto.
“Well, well, it looks great! I’m really impressed!” said the professor. “I’ve come to visit your great Conservatory with my friends and perhaps see a few familiar faces!”
“Very well, sir. Make yourselves at home.”
Alexandra browsed around while the professor chatted with different people. She strolled about with Emma, eyes glowing and mind wandering.
“Do you play anything?” asked a young musician from behind her back.
She turned around to find a young man of about sixteen or so. He had reddish brown hair and an eastern Canadian accent.
“I beg your pardon, sir?” she said.
“Hello, my name is Alfred and I play the cello. I’m from New Brunswick.”
“Alexandra Delmott. I play the violin. Some people call me Alex and others call me Aydy. This is my friend Emma. Someday she’ll play the violin, too.”
“Oh, I’ve heard about you,” said Alfred, smiling and shaking his finger. “You’re getting quite a reputation, you know. What brings you to Toronto? Are you going to study music here?”
“No, I’m just here with my father, Professor Hergicksen and Emma to visit the conservatory – and to get a new violin.”
“Maybe you’d like to play something? I’m sure you can borrow somebody’s violin. There are plenty of them here.”
For the first time, Alexandra felt compelled to turn down an opportunity to play. This was not because she didn’t want to, but because she wasn’t sure she could do it at all. She needn’t have worried, though. She was rescued by yet another stranger.
“Alfred! Come here! We’re getting ready to start!” shouted a woman from across the room.
“Excuse me, I’m so sorry,” said Alfred. “I’m afraid I’m needed in the quartet. You’re welcome to listen if you like.”
The professor and Joseph soon arrived and they all took a seat. The quartet played Boccherini’s “La Musica Notturna delle Strade di Madrid.” Alexandra, as always, studied their fingering movements, concentrating her attention on the violists and violinists. Occasionally she would glance at the professor if she heard a mistake and he, in turn, would look at her. Joseph and Emma seemed oblivious.
After visiting the Conservatory, they went shopping at some of the local clothiers. Alexandra remembered her father saying that no trip to the big city would be complete without a shopping trip, and so she relished the opportunity to do so with Emma. The two friends tried on a variety of different dresses, mostly practical ones they could wear for the upcoming school year. Alexandra also bought, and even wore out of the store, a mustard-yellow cardigan sweater which complemented her dress well. Finally it was time to visit the luthier.
“You know, my dear, there are many luthiers in Toronto,” said the professor as they meandered their way along the crowded sidewalks. “Each one of these luthiers plies his trade; I dare say they’re all trying to establish themselves as North America’s answer to Antonio Stradivari! Try as they might, not all of them are good. However, you needn’t worry. I know who the good and bad ones are. We’re going to one on Adelaide Street, not far from here.”
“I trust your good judgment, Maestro.” Alexandra thought him to be the perfect man for the job.
“You know, Hergie,” said Joseph, “I don’t think I can afford a Stradivarius violin!”
“Well my good sir, it should give you some level of
comfort to know I can’t afford one either. I dare say that a Strad in good condition is worth a king’s ransom!”
“Very good then! Thank you, Hergie. Value versus price it will be. We shall nonetheless choose a fine instrument. I’m quite certain that this violin will not be her last.” Joseph turned to Alexandra. “Right, Angel?”
“Well yes of course Papa, that’s right,” she said, a glimmer of hope boosting her spirits.
The luthier’s shop smelled of freshly cut wood punctuated by the faintest hint of varnish. There was a small work bench in the centre of the room with violins and violas in various stages of construction, some of which appeared to be held together with many small clamps. An assortment of strange tools was spread out on the workbench while finished violins hung on pegs affixed to the walls.
“Perhaps this one will suit you?” offered the luthier, an older man near the professor’s age.
Alexandra tried to look enthusiastic about this new violin, believing that if she looked enthusiastic enough then maybe she might become so. She put the violin on her shoulder with deft familiarity. Looking straight down the strings to the scroll, it looked almost exactly like her grandfather’s violin, except there was no notch in the fingerboard and the whole violin was somewhat lighter in colour. Also no finger marks were present on the fingerboard at all. Any marks made would now be her own.
“Do you like it, Angel?” asked Joseph. “Why don’t you try it?”
It was certainly a fine instrument crafted by a professional luthier, and it was really quite beautiful. It fit well on her shoulder and she felt strangely comfortable with it.
Alexandra smiled, sighed, and took the bow. She decided to play “The Kesh Jig,” a lively Celtic dance tune.
She held the bow in the usual way, striking a series of notes. It was not what she expected, not as she remembered.
“Is everything all right?” asked Joseph. As usual, Emma sat and stared and the professor watched.
“One minute, please,” said Alexandra. She took a deep breath and tried calming herself.
When she played again, the violin resonated sweetly in the luthier’s shop. Her fingers seemed to remember where to go, and they matched perfectly with the particular string she was bowing at the time. She even managed that trademark smile everyone knew so well. She hadn’t lost a thing. Everything she learned on her grandfather’s violin she could now play on this one, and she was delighted, except for one thing – she felt a bit sad at the thought that maybe her grandfather’s violin had no magic in it after all.
Alexandra tried several violins, but returned to the first. “I like this one best of all,” she said.
“Well, I think we’ve settled that!” said the professor. “Shall we be on our way?”
* * *
Before long, they found themselves spending their last night in the hotel. After the lights had gone out, the two girls lay awake in bed, talking. Emma thought this to be the perfect time to ask her questions.
“Why are you giving your grandfather’s violin to Owen? It doesn’t make any sense to me.”
“Papa told me I ought to give it to him because he made a mistake giving it to me in the first place,” whispered Alexandra. “It really belonged to Uncle George, but Emma, I’ve been thinking about it. I really know that violin has special powers. I mean, think of it! Do you remember what I told you on the train? How could I learn all those songs in such a short space of time if magic wasn’t involved somehow? Most of those songs I heard only once in my life. It’s really impossible; no one has ever done that! Sure I can play another violin now, but so what? Maybe it will happen to Owen too?”
“But, Alex,” said Emma, purposely using Alexandra’s short name and not her nickname. “What if Owen is able to play it? What happens if he learns all the songs with that violin helping him the same way it did you and what if… what if….”
“Then maybe he can regain his love for music!” Alexandra said, sitting upright in bed and turning to face Emma. “Don’t you think that would be grand! I hold out hope for him Emma, I even pray for him every night, though I don’t know that it’ll do much good. He’s really such a stubborn boy!”
“What if he gets mad and smashes it, too? Really, Alex, it could happen!”
“He won’t do it. He would have to answer to his father, and he can’t lie his way out of this one. But I have a strong feeling he’s going to give it back to me.”
“What happens if he gets those visions?”
“He can’t get them. I know it. Don’t ask me how, but I just know.”
Chapter 13
The train pulled into Windsor at precisely 3:00 p.m. the next day, Friday, with the foursome aboard including their luggage, purchases – and two violins. Emma’s parents were there to welcome her back, and soon everyone set off for their homes. Joseph and Alexandra walked back to the café with Joseph carrying their bags and Alexandra carrying the violins.
After greeting Marcie, Alexandra brought both violins up to her room, removed them from their cases and placed them on her bed. She positioned them up side by side and inspected them, comparing any differences in colour, texture, even the arc of the bridge. She would have to learn this new violin as intimately as she knew the old.
* * *
Before he prepared breakfast on Saturday morning, Joseph sat at his table drinking his usual cup of coffee and thinking about the few days that had just passed. He always enjoyed the peace and quiet of early mornings; it was his favourite time of day. It afforded him the opportunity to unwind, to think about life and to mentally prepare for the day ahead.
Just then, the morning quiet was shattered when Alexandra began shrieking from up in her bedroom as if she were being murdered. Dropping his coffee onto the floor, Joseph sped across the café and bounded up the stairs, taking them three at a time. He threw the door to her room open wide, and rushed in.
“Get it off! Get it off!” she screamed, sitting up in bed, arms wrapped around her legs. Tears rolled down her face and she bit her bottom lip.
Joseph saw the problem immediately. He reached down and plucked a big, black spider from her bedsheets. He carried the leggy creature to the open window and threw it outside.
She was still shaking after that encounter with the arachnid, so Joseph sat on the bed and hugged her.
“Everything’s all right, Angel. Calm down, I’ve gotten rid of it.”
“Thank you, Papa,” she said, snivelling, “but how could you touch that thing?”
“Well, Angel, I didn’t like touching it. It was very unpleasant for me, but I did it because it was necessary. Sometimes we need to do unpleasant things.”
Her eyes searched his face.
“I have to give Pépé’s violin to Owen today,” she said, still sniffling. “That’s going to be unpleasant, too.”
“Well, true, what you’re doing today is unpleasant as well, but it’s also a very brave thing to do. It shows you have a strong character.”
Alexandra frowned.
“What’s wrong, Angel?”
“Papa, I don’t understand something. You know so many things and you’re so brave and wise. I just can’t understand why Mama left.”
“It’s not easy for me to understand, either. That’ll have to be a topic for another day. All right, why don’t you get up and get dressed? I’ll start making breakfast.”
* * *
Following their usual Saturday morning meal, Alexandra walked up the stairs one methodical, deliberate step at a time. When she entered her room, the morning sunshine spread a false cheeriness through the place. Despite that, everything in her room was in order. Her sheet music was still placed round the room and her pépé’s violin was on the bedside table, as always. She’d liked it there as the last thing she saw when she fell asleep and the first thing she’d seen when she woke up. For one last time, she put both violins on the bed and compared them. One was new and the other, though well-kept, was visibly older. She took a ‘mind photo’ of the
two instruments, as she liked to call it. She believed that mind photos were even better than real photos, because the former you could bring anywhere and look at anytime, while the latter was dependent on photographic equipment.
After a few moments, she placed her pépé’s violin in its case. Before closing the lid, she draped a small white cloth over the violin, folding its corners and tucking them around the edges of the instrument to protect it.
When all was ready, she walked downstairs to meet her father, who was sitting at his table.
“When you come back, I want to be your first audience on your new violin, agreed?” said Joseph.
“Very good, Papa, I agree. I’ll be all right. I can do it.”
Aydy's Fiddle - The Memory Thief Page 10