‹ Prequel: Going Bush
Going Bush 2: Suburbia
65
The following few mornings at breakfast were tense. Taylor was close enough to Carlos to know that he was being stared at, but subtle glances every now and then confirmed the other men that had been there were also nearby and also staring. He somehow felt that it wouldn’t have been as nerve-wracking an experience if he hadn’t known that they hated him so much just for being American that they actually didn’t care if they killed him.
The second morning he resumed his tutoring of the children. While it helped take his mind off the incident, the woman was well aware that his concentration had suffered. Being that he was trying to teach them English while he barely knew a word of Spanish it was already hard enough.
Four or five days later, after the children left the study, she indicated for him to follow her out. Finding it unusual both because they usually stayed there for the afternoon and because she didn’t bother replacing the chain to his collar, he obediently followed.
They didn’t go far. She used a key attached to her belt to unlock a door at the end of the hall, stepping back so that Taylor could walk through. Looking through cautiously, he complied. He stopped when he saw what was in the room.
“It’s old and may need some work,” the woman said as she closed the door behind them, stepping around him, “but it’s all we have I’m afraid.”
Taylor looked across at her not daring to be presumptuous. When she waved him forward, he could barely hold himself back enough to walk – not run – over to the dusty grand piano set on a raised platform in the otherwise empty room.
He lifted the cover and brushed his hands over the dust on the keys. Giving her a glance to make sure she approved, he tested the middle C. He winced a little when he heard how out of tune it was.
“It will be at least another week until your finger has healed enough to play, I’d presume,” she told him, “I’d hope you could be ready to start with Gabriela by then? I can give you most afternoons here to prepare.”
Taylor did some quick calculations in his head. He wasn’t an expert by any means, but if he had that long to work on it he was sure he could clean it up and have it in tune by that time.
“Yes Miss,” he finally replied with a nod.
“Good,” she nodded in return, “then I’ll leave you to it. Ibby will fetch you for your evening meal.”
“Thank you Miss,” Taylor looked up with genuine appreciation.
She offered him a small smile before leaving the room. Taylor barely heard the lock click into place as his fingers trailed over the keys again. Starting from the right, he made his way down to check if any of the keys were actually in tune. Thankfully it wasn’t out as badly as he’d feared.
Stepping around to the back he raised the main lid. At least the strings didn’t look brittle.
He hit the C again, watching where the hammer hit. It took him a few minutes to get back into the hang of it, but he soon found himself working on autopilot. As if unlocking something that had been stored away in the back of his mind for what felt like an eternity. Suddenly he was able to concentrate on this, and only this, and it almost felt like… home.
Time flew and he wasn’t even halfway done by the time he heard the door unlocking. He looked up regrettably to see Ibby in the doorway, indicating for him to leave with him.
He closed up the piano, wishing he had something to cover it with, before giving it one last glance and following Ibby out.
He was taken down to the kitchen where Siemme gave him a plate of food that he could take back to his stall for the night.
The second morning he resumed his tutoring of the children. While it helped take his mind off the incident, the woman was well aware that his concentration had suffered. Being that he was trying to teach them English while he barely knew a word of Spanish it was already hard enough.
Four or five days later, after the children left the study, she indicated for him to follow her out. Finding it unusual both because they usually stayed there for the afternoon and because she didn’t bother replacing the chain to his collar, he obediently followed.
They didn’t go far. She used a key attached to her belt to unlock a door at the end of the hall, stepping back so that Taylor could walk through. Looking through cautiously, he complied. He stopped when he saw what was in the room.
“It’s old and may need some work,” the woman said as she closed the door behind them, stepping around him, “but it’s all we have I’m afraid.”
Taylor looked across at her not daring to be presumptuous. When she waved him forward, he could barely hold himself back enough to walk – not run – over to the dusty grand piano set on a raised platform in the otherwise empty room.
He lifted the cover and brushed his hands over the dust on the keys. Giving her a glance to make sure she approved, he tested the middle C. He winced a little when he heard how out of tune it was.
“It will be at least another week until your finger has healed enough to play, I’d presume,” she told him, “I’d hope you could be ready to start with Gabriela by then? I can give you most afternoons here to prepare.”
Taylor did some quick calculations in his head. He wasn’t an expert by any means, but if he had that long to work on it he was sure he could clean it up and have it in tune by that time.
“Yes Miss,” he finally replied with a nod.
“Good,” she nodded in return, “then I’ll leave you to it. Ibby will fetch you for your evening meal.”
“Thank you Miss,” Taylor looked up with genuine appreciation.
She offered him a small smile before leaving the room. Taylor barely heard the lock click into place as his fingers trailed over the keys again. Starting from the right, he made his way down to check if any of the keys were actually in tune. Thankfully it wasn’t out as badly as he’d feared.
Stepping around to the back he raised the main lid. At least the strings didn’t look brittle.
He hit the C again, watching where the hammer hit. It took him a few minutes to get back into the hang of it, but he soon found himself working on autopilot. As if unlocking something that had been stored away in the back of his mind for what felt like an eternity. Suddenly he was able to concentrate on this, and only this, and it almost felt like… home.
Time flew and he wasn’t even halfway done by the time he heard the door unlocking. He looked up regrettably to see Ibby in the doorway, indicating for him to leave with him.
He closed up the piano, wishing he had something to cover it with, before giving it one last glance and following Ibby out.
He was taken down to the kitchen where Siemme gave him a plate of food that he could take back to his stall for the night.