Settling the Account (24 page)

Frank saw Lizzie fix Mr Hatfield with one of
her most disapproving glares for the watchmaker’s temerity in
daring to order Frank around, but he was only too happy to be told
what to do by someone prepared to be an expert. Mr Hatfield seemed
unaware of her censure, and Lizzie was soon too busy making sure
they had a clear path through the house and into the parlour to
remember to be annoyed with him.

Under Mr Hatfield’s brisk instructions, they
unwrapped the pieces of the puzzle and fitted the various parts
together until they assumed a shape that Frank recognised with
relief as a genuine piano, and a medium-sized one at that.

‘Gee, it looks good, doesn’t it?’ he said,
standing back to admire his new possession. Lizzie was already
attacking it with a polishing cloth, removing spots that were
invisible to Frank as well as raising a shine on the swirling
pattern of the wood. When she had finished, Frank was sure the
piano must be the most beautiful ever seen.

‘It needs a few nice ornaments on the top,
it looks a bit bare like that,’ Lizzie said, her eyes roving around
the room in search of candidates. She had seized a small vase of
flowers and a photograph of Frank and her with the three oldest
children before Mr Hatfield managed to intercept her.

‘Just before you do that, Mrs Kelly, I’d
better see about getting this instrument in tune for you, don’t you
think?’

‘How do you mean?’ Lizzie asked. ‘What’s
wrong with it?’

‘Well, at the moment I think you’ll find its
sound doesn’t match up to its fine appearance.’ He raised the
cover, revealing the keyboard, and played a succession of notes
that even to Frank’s untrained ear sounded flat and discordant.

‘That’s horrible,’ Lizzie said. ‘I can’t
have soyrees for people to listen to that! I hope this piano isn’t
a dud, Frank.’

‘So do I,’ Frank said, thinking of the
extravagant amount he had paid for the piano.

‘Oh, I’m sure it’s perfectly sound, Mr
Kelly,’ Mr Hatfield said. He opened his bag and took out a device
that looked to Frank like a mistreated table fork. After enjoining
silence from his interested audience he struck the fork, creating a
clear note. He chose one key near the centre of the keyboard and
fiddled with the small peg behind it, making tiny adjustments until
the sound of the key seemed indistinguishable from the sound made
by the tuning fork.

He then spent what felt like hours to Frank,
though it was probably closer to thirty minutes, alternately
striking keys and adjusting pegs until he seemed satisfied with the
sound produced by every key.

‘That should be sufficient,’ he said,
carefully replacing the piano’s cover. ‘Would you like to try it
out now? Which of you plays?’

‘Oh, we can’t play,’ said Lizzie. ‘We got it
for Maudie, really—the other girls, too, when they’re older.’

‘Ah, the delightful Miss Kelly,’ Mr Hatfield
said, his watery eyes lighting up with a smile. ‘I’m sure she plays
like an angel.’

‘Well, she doesn’t yet—she’s going to learn,
though. I’ll get Lily on to it as soon as she’s feeling herself
again. It shouldn’t take Maudie long to pick it up.’

‘How about you play us a tune, Mr Hatfield?’
Frank suggested.

Mr Hatfield shook his head. ‘I’m afraid I
wouldn’t give an audience any pleasure. No, it’s many, many years
since I touched a piano except to tune one—I don’t even get a great
deal of practice at that these days. I wouldn’t attempt to play.
Not now.’ His eyes took on a faraway expression. Frank sensed the
older man was recalling memories that gave mingled pleasure and
regret.

Lizzie prevailed upon their helpers to stay
for a generous afternoon tea, then Mr Hatfield took his seat on the
dray beside the factory lad, managing to look as though he were
seated in a fine carriage rather than a rough wagon, and Frank and
Lizzie waved them off.

Frank patted Lizzie’s hand where it rested
on his arm. ‘Well, we’ve done it, eh? I never thought I’d be able
to get you a piano.’

‘I never thought I’d want one. It’s for the
girls, really, but it’ll be nice to have a few songs of an
evening.’

Frank met her eyes and grinned. ‘Let’s go
and look at it again.’

They went into the house and examined their
piano in shared pride. ‘It’s a beauty, all right,’ Frank said with
deep satisfaction.

Lizzie put two lace doilies on top of the
piano, and placed her chosen vase and photograph on them. ‘It takes
up a fair bit of room. But it does look nice. Now, the next thing’s
to get Maudie taught. I’ll get Lily to come down tomorrow
afternoon—she’d like to see the piano, and I can ask her when she
can start teaching Maudie.’

‘Do you think she’ll feel up to coming?’
Frank asked. ‘Bill said she’s still a bit frail when I saw him the
other day.’

‘She’ll be all right. Bill’s nearly as bad
as you for fussing. An outing’ll do her good, anyway. I’m going to
write her a note right now, tell her to come down tomorrow. Joey
can take it up there.’

Lily duly arrived the next afternoon. She
came with a substantial escort; as well as Bill and their two
younger children, Arthur interpreted the invitation as applying to
himself and Edie as well.

‘Trust Pa to turn up,’ Lizzie grumbled when
she saw who was driving the buggy. ‘He’s always got to go poking
his nose into everything. Now, don’t you go letting him bother you
if he starts making remarks about you buying a piano. You know what
he’s like.’

Lizzie knew her father well. His first words
when he had brought the buggy to a halt were, ‘Thought I’d better
come and see what you’re throwing good money away on now, before
the bank manager takes this place over for you. Some people have
got more money than sense, it seems.’

‘And
some
people know how to mind
their own business,’ Lizzie retorted.

Frank silenced her with a hand on her arm
before Arthur had time to bristle in response. He grinned
good-naturedly at Arthur’s attempts at cutting remarks. ‘I don’t
know about sense, but I’ve got a piano,’ Frank told his visitors.
‘Come and take a look at it.’

Bill jumped down from his seat and lifted
Lily from hers, keeping an arm around her solicitously once he had
her safely on the ground. ‘You right, Lily?’ he asked. ‘I don’t
want her to go tiring herself out,’ he announced to his audience.
‘She hasn’t really got over everything yet, you know.’

‘I’m quite all right, Bill, you mustn’t fuss
over me,’ Lily assured him. She smiled, but Frank thought she
looked more drawn than even the sleepless nights the three-week-old
baby in her arms was giving her could explain. He gave silent
thanks for the robust good health that made Lizzie thrive on
childbearing. But Lily’s cheeks were pink with excitement, and she
looked toward the house with obvious eagerness.

Bill showed signs of weariness himself,
though he gazed at his new son and long-awaited namesake with
unmixed pride.

‘Little beggar doesn’t want to sleep at
night,’ he told Frank as they walked towards the house. ‘He’s going
to be a handful, this fellow.’

‘We got spoiled with Arfie and Emma,’ Lily
added. ‘They were such good sleepers almost from the beginning.
Especially Emma, weren’t you, darling?’ she said to the
three-year-old who was skipping along at Edie’s side.

‘I don’t remember young Arthur being any
trouble,’ Arthur put in, ready as ever to rise to his grandson’s
defence. ‘He’s always been forward for his age, that boy.’

Bill rolled his eyes at Frank behind
Arthur’s back. They dropped behind Arthur and the women, so that
they could talk without being overheard. ‘You know, I sometimes
wonder if Pa remembers whose son Arfie is,’ Bill said in a voice
too low for his father to catch. ‘You’d just about think he was
Arfie’s Pa himself, the way he goes on about him.’

‘Don’t let Lizzie hear you say that,’ Frank
replied equally quietly. ‘She gets a bit funny sometimes about your
pa making such a fuss over your kids.’

Bill grunted. ‘It’s nothing to be jealous
about. Pa can be a real pest over it—I can’t even give Arfie a bit
of a hiding if Pa’s around. “Leave the boy alone, he didn’t do any
harm.” When I think of the things I used to get hidings for!’

‘That’s what Lizzie says when Arthur sticks
up for Maudie,’ Frank said, grinning at Bill’s affronted
expression. ‘You and her are a bit alike, you know.’

‘Don’t know about that,’ Bill said. ‘Lizzie
was always better at keeping out of trouble than I was—she was
pretty good at not getting caught, anyway.’

He stared at Lily, who was leaning on
Lizzie’s arm with Edie hovering close at hand. ‘I wish Lily was
more like Lizzie, though—not in her nature, that’d be like sleeping
with Pa as well as working with him all day. I just wish she was a
bit stronger. She doesn’t take this childbearing business too well.
Sometimes I wonder why she lets me touch her, with all that to put
up with.’

‘They’re tougher than us. Even the frail
ones like Lily—she doesn’t look strong, but she must be, just to
get through it. I know what you mean, though—I still worry about
Lizzie every time, even after six of the little beggars.’

‘Well, Lily’s not going to have six,’ Bill
said. ‘I want her around to rear the ones she’s got.’ He pulled a
face. ‘Leaving them alone’s easier said than done, though, eh?’

‘I’ll say,’ Frank agreed.

‘Whatever are you two gossiping about? Hurry
up, you can have a chat later,’ Lizzie called from the doorway, for
once forgetting to show wifely meekness in front of her father.
Frank exchanged a rather shamefaced grin with Bill, and did not
enlighten Lizzie on the subject of their conversation.

As soon as baby William had been settled
down on Frank and Lizzie’s bed, Lizzie ushered the family into the
parlour.

‘Here it is,’ she announced, indicating the
piano with a flourish.

‘Oh, it’s beautiful,’ Lily exclaimed. She
rushed forward and stroked the smooth wood of the piano with a
touch that was almost reverent. ‘A Broadwood,’ she murmured. ‘I
didn’t think I’d ever see one again.’

‘It’s the sort you said to get, isn’t it,
Lily?’ Frank asked.

Lily dragged her attention from the piano.
‘It’s exactly right, Frank. I must confess one reason I suggested a
Broadwood was that it’s the sort I used to have—though it’s one of
the best makes, too. But this is even lovelier than our old
one.’

‘Did you have a piano, dear?’ Edie asked.
‘Whatever became of it?’

‘I sold it when Mother died,’ Lily said.
‘Mother couldn’t bear to part with it, because it had been
Father’s. But there was no point in my having a piano, not when it
didn’t seem likely I’d ever have a settled home.’ She cast a smile
towards Bill that was full of gratitude. ‘I’ve a home now, of
course. And I think I’ve almost forgotten how to play, anyway.’

‘You’d better not have,’ Lizzie put in.
‘You’ve got to teach Maudie.’

‘I’ll do my best,’ Lily said. ‘I should be
able to start her off, at least.’

‘Can we have a tune, then?’ Frank asked.
‘I’d like to hear what it sounds like.’

‘I haven’t let any of the children touch
it,’ said Lizzie. ‘No grubby fingers on the piano. Frank had a go
last night, though.’

‘I did not,’ Frank protested. ‘Heck, I
wouldn’t have a clue where to start. I just pressed a couple of
those key things. It sounded pretty awful.’

‘I’ll say,’ Lizzie agreed, with more
enthusiasm than Frank thought was strictly necessary. ‘Play us
something, Lily.’

‘Oh, I don’t know if I can,’ Lily said,
suddenly shy. ‘It’s been so long.’

‘Go on,’ Lizzie pressed. ‘Play the sort of
thing people dance to.’

‘Something lively,’ Frank suggested.

‘A nice, romantic song, that’s the sort I
like,’ Edie put in.

‘Something from Scotland,’ Arthur said. ‘A
good jig, that’s what people like to hear.’

Lily’s eyes swivelled between the speakers,
and as the requests became more insistent she began to look
alarmed. ‘I’m not sure if I can…’

‘Hey, leave her alone,’ Bill said, glaring
around the room. ‘Lily, you don’t have to play anything if you
don’t feel like it. Do you want to sit on the sofa for a bit?’

‘No, I’m all right. I’d like to try playing
something, though it probably won’t sound very nice. I’m afraid I
don’t know any jigs, Father,’ she said to Arthur.

‘That’s all right, my dear,’ Arthur said
magnanimously. ‘You play whatever you like, then.’

‘That’s right,’ said Bill. ‘Play something
you like, never mind anyone else. And only if you feel up to
it.’

Lily perched on the high stool Frank had
placed in front of the piano. ‘Oh, I don’t know if I can remember
anything,’ she murmured. ‘I wonder if I could manage that Chopin
sonata…’ She lifted the cover and stroked the keys gently, making
no sound. ‘How does it start?’ she said to herself. ‘Let’s
see.’

She played a few notes hesitantly, and shook
her head. ‘No, that’s not right. It must be…’ Her fingers hovered
above the keyboard for a moment, then began moving over the keys,
at first slowly then with gathering assurance.

After the first few seconds her audience sat
in rapt attention, even little Emma staring open-mouthed at her
mother. Frank had never heard any sound like it; never imagined
that human hands could produce music of such beauty. It soared with
passion, then plunged into delicious melancholy, but all the while
remained graceful and delicate.

When the last notes died away there was
utter silence in the room. Frank had just recovered himself enough
to think of thanking Lily, and asking if she could play again, when
he saw how oddly her head was drooping over the piano, as if she
were suddenly very weary.

‘I’d forgotten,’ she said in a whisper. ‘I’d
forgotten what it’s like. It’s been so long since—’

‘Mama?’ Emma said, her childish voice high
and bewildered. ‘Why you crying, Mama?’