Mrs Rachael Wright walked across the carpark on the
first day of the summer term and took
in the silver Alfa Romero slewed carelessly across the front entrance. ‘Whose is the flash motor?’ she asked as she entered the staffroom,
dropping her bags of music and making for the kettle.
‘Must be someone important. He’s parked in the head’s space. Whose is it?’
Val, her long-time friend and colleague,
smirked and said, ‘It belongs to the new violin teacher. He’s replacing, ‘What’s his name’ who left last term. The one we never
saw.’
‘Why the smirk Val? What’s funny?’
‘Well, I thought since you started violin
lessons last term you might like to have some private lessons with this new
bloke. He’s about our age and …’
Before they could finish their conversation, the first
bell went to warn them to get to their classrooms before the pupils arrived.
Val went to her class and Rachael went to prepare for assembly. The walk-in storeroom in the
corner of the hall behind the grand piano was Sarah’s own little hide-away. She ran her
fingers over the violin case, which had been secreted there during the
holidays. Then she went to her beloved piano.
Seated at the keyboard a thrill of excitement ran through her body. Her
fingers ran up and down the keys and
created a sound which filled the yet empty hall with Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto Number One. Sarah fell
into her world of bliss, which erased the fear of her home life. As her
performance ended, the hall was filled with solitary applause. She turned to
find a complete stranger standing behind her.
‘Wonderful, marvellous, I really enjoyed
that. What a great way to start the first day on a new job.’
Sarah bent her head to hide her embarrassment.
‘Thank you. It wasn’t that good. I’m out of practice after the holidays.’
‘So sorry, I should introduce myself. I’m Harry Hall the new violin teacher.’ He said proffering his hand.
Sarah stood to shake it and her hair fell over her
face as she practically bowed in her nervousness.
‘Pleased to meet you. Excuse me. I have to
find the hymns for this morning’s
assembly. The children are starting to come in and I should be playing as they
enter.’
She turned away and almost climbed into the cupboard
to get away from Harry. He left and she returned to her seat at the piano and
started to play March Militaire as the children filed in. Val wasn’t wrong, thought Sarah, as she played
mechanically. He was a bit of a dish. Then she stopped herself. It was scary to
think like that.
Harry went to the little room that had been designated
to him next to the staff room. Although he was preparing for his first pupils,
he couldn’t help thinking about Sarah. He didn’t know her name. What a pianist. He could
really work with a pianist of her calibre. And not only musically, he thought, as he remembered her slim form and long blond hair which half hid her very
pretty face.
At morning break, Harry decided to find out more about
Sarah whom he had decided to call Violet (as in shrinking).
Val was there regaling everyone with the first funny
of the term from her pupils.
‘What’s the joke? I hope it’s not me?’ he said.
‘I was just telling everybody what little
Julie Watson said to Stevie Brown. He kept on jumping up to sharpen his pencil
at the front desk and Julie says, ‘Sit down Stevie. You’re up and down like a bride’s nightie.’ I am sure neither of them knows what it means.’
Sarah who was standing near the door with a cup of
coffee in her hand smiled weakly then left the room and went back to where she
felt safe, in front of the piano. She did enjoy the staff-room
banter in fact she preferred to be in school rather than at home but sometimes
the jokes reminded her of her unhappy home life.
Sarah had met Frank when she was only fifteen. She had
thought that he was the one for her right from the start. However, Frank had
been one of the boys and liked to play the field; there
wasn’t a girl in town who hadn’t been in love with him. He was handsome,
funny, and sporty. He’d played football in winter and cricket in
summer. When he was playing football, there had always been a crowd of young
women cheering him on from the side line; in the cricket season, it
had never been a problem to find helpers for the refreshment room. His female
fans were happy to wait on him. Sarah had resigned herself to the fact that she
was just another of the disappointed females whom he had dated and then dropped. So, she’d gone off to college and tried to forget
him.
When she had returned three years later, she had been
amazed to discover that he had remained single, and they had started to date. She had been so star struck to think that he had
chosen her out of the whole crowd that she did not realise that in fact she was
the only one left. All his old girlfriends had grown wise to him and had
married or moved away.
Rachael had given birth to two daughters who were her
pride and joy, and she loved her job but Frank… well…
Frank was a disaster. Life had not been so bad at first. He had lived
for his sport. Then as he grew older and was dropped from the teams, he drank
more and more. It was a downward spiral. The more he was dropped the more he
drank…and the more he drank the more weight he put on and so the
more he was dropped. The smoking didn't help.
You can't run up and down the wing of a football field when you are gasping for breath.
The downward slope had started the year he had won the
‘Player of the Year Cup’. ‘The
kiss of death’ he’d called it, and he turned his anger-filled bulk into violence, which was directed at Rachael his wife.
Harry helped himself to coffee and turned to Val, ‘Whatever is wrong with our school pianist.
She seems so timid and yet with a talent like that she should… well if I could
play like her I wouldn’t hide my light under a bushel.’
‘I don’t suppose you would.’
‘She’s pretty too.’
‘And guess what she has just taken up the
violin. Don’t tell her I told you. She is very
secretive about it.’
As the term rolled on Harry seemed to be thwarted in
his attempts to get to know 'shrinking Violet.’ He was about to give up on his attempts when an opportunity presented itself. He was in
the headmaster’s office one afternoon after school
discussing an end of term concert when the unmistakable sound of the same
concerto filled the air.
‘I would love to work with Mrs Wright. I am
sure we could produce something quite impressive with her talent," he ventured.
‘I am certain of it, if you
could persuade her,’
said Robert Stonier the headmaster. ‘You can try. You may succeed where others have failed.
I should warn you she is timid and elusive, but she is an excellent teacher.’
‘I have discovered that. What I need is
help in getting to spend some time with her. I am sure I can reach her through
the music if only…’
‘She often stays after school to practice.
She says she has no room for a piano at home and that she prefers to play the school-grand anyway. I’ve heard her playing the violin then too. She only
took it up last term and I believe she’s a natural.’
Just then, the music stopped and minutes later, they
heard Sarah’s car leaving the school grounds.
‘What I could do, said the Head, ‘I could tell her that I would very much like to hear a duet from the
two talented musicians on the staff and I am
looking forward to hearing a duet from you and her at the end of term concert.’
‘If that works you won’t be sorry with the result, I’m sure.’
One
day the following week after school Sarah was indulging herself by playing all
her favourite pieces. She knew she should be practicing the accompaniments for
the school choir for the end of term concert, but this time was precious. She
lost herself in the music and forgot everything except the sheer joy she felt
when playing.
Harry Hall listened for a while and was moved by the
music and the sight of this attractive woman who seemed to be pouring
everything she had into the sound she was making.
When he could contain himself no longer, he said, as
quietly as he could so as not to frighten her, ‘Beautifully played Mrs Wright. I am sorry
to interrupt but I would like to talk to you.’
‘Oh really. Do you think we could make it
during school time? I have to rush home now. I may be late already,’ she stood as she spoke and started to
pack away her music.
‘It will only take a second. Has the head
spoken to you about the concert? Will you give it some thought? I have some
duets we could play and…’
‘Yes, yes, I’ll think about it,’ she said as she started for the door. ‘I’m sorry, I have to leave now.’
And she was gone.
Harry stood amazed and stunned. He was considered
handsome and not only by himself. He was tall, five eleven, even six feet if he stood up very straight. He prided
himself in his collection of shirts, usually striped. He always wore dapper
sports jackets and smart trousers were his choice;
jeans
were a no-no for him. He was secretly proud of his hair, which was dark and
wavy. He sometimes let it grow quite long, partly out of idleness but also
because he thought it made him look arty. Women, many women, had told him that
he had twinkly, blue eyes and he would not argue with that. He did like to
flirt. and had never received such a
brush-off. It was not just that. He genuinely wanted to share a musical
experience with the Shrinking Violet. Well, he was not going to give up. He
would play ‘the head says we should’ card.
As Sarah drove home that day, she thought how much she
loved her job as the school-pianist, playing for assembly and hymn practice and
singing lessons. There was always the end of term concerts to rehearse
too. Staying after school to practise or just for the sheer joy of the
music was the best part of her life. She hoped that Mr-Interfering-Hall was not
going to ruin it. She could not have a piano at home because her husband hated
her to spend time playing. In fact, he hated her doing anything when he was in
the house except being of service to him of course. She did not tell
the rest of the staff the real reason. She just said that they did not have
enough room for a piano and anyway the school-grand was better to play than any
old upright that she could afford. Now if ‘Mr I’m
God’s gift to women’ was going to keep popping up, he would
spoil her only pleasure in life. Then she went cold at the thought, if Frank
should suspect that she even spoke to him after school... at that point she stopped thinking because the consequences really
were terrifying.
Monday
break, the following week there was the usual staff-room repartee, which made
Sarah less shy and more relaxed.
The bell rang for the end of playtime and as Sarah left the staff room with the rest of the
teachers, Roy Walker, the deputy head said, ‘Saw you drive in this morning, or rather, I heard
you.’ She knew that the car needed work, it
bellowed smoke and made a weird noise.
Roy continued, ‘There’s
nothing like a well-tuned engine.’
‘I know, I know and mine’s nothing like a well-tuned engine. Very funny.’ Rachael threw her head back and laughed as she
thought, ‘Why can’t my home life be like this. If only I could please Frank.’ What she didn’t realise was that Harry Hall, who was
right behind them, was observing her closely; he was actually thinking
that he would like to kiss her throat…
Sarah seated herself at the piano and waited for her
singing class to come in. Val leaned over her and whispered in her ear, ‘I saw HH watching you as you left the staffroom. I think
you’re ‘in there’ if you’d give him a chance.’
‘Christ Val,’ she said, ‘you scared me to
death! Isn’t that your class making a row outside your
classroom?
‘Don’t be such a goody-goody. Lighten-up. You
never used to be such a tight arse,’ said Val and left, saying, in what she called her best
schoolmistress voice, ‘Now then 4A, there’s no need for all that noise. Calm down, calm down.’
Val and Sarah had gone through college together twenty-five years ago. People
had said they looked alike and sometimes had called Val Rachael and vice versa.
However, since college Rachael had let her hair grow really long and Val had kept
hers short. Rachael dressed more demurely and favoured smart trouser suits and
flat but expensive shoes. Val on the other hand liked the latest fashion and
was certainly more daring. She often wore very short skirts and low-necked tops
even in school. They chided each other about their dress sense.
‘For good-ness's sake Val don’t bend over, or we’ll see your pants,’ was a comment Rachael frequently made.
‘Well, no danger of seeing yours. I bet your
swimsuit comes down to your knees.’ Val was on her second marriage now and
had five children. Three boys from her first marriage, a boy, and a girl from
her second. They had helped each other out over the years with childcare. When
either of them had husband problems they lent each other a reliable ear, but since Val’s second marriage to Dave, it was only Sarah who
needed an ear. They had both ended up on the staff of Hill Top Primary School.
Val is
right of course, Rachael thought but she doesn’t know how bad it has become with Frank. Now she was
beginning to be afraid of the way she felt whenever HH was in the vicinity.
The same day after school she played harder and longer
than ever. The caretaker looked in as he often did to
say good-night and that he was leaving and had locked up. All the classrooms
had a door to the patio, which ran around the school, and each teacher had a
key to the door of their own classroom. Val had lent her key to Sarah so that
she could get out via her classroom. She stayed late on the days when she knew
that her husband Frank was working what he called the ‘Two ‘til Ten’ shift at the electronics factory. If he was
working ‘Six ‘til two,’ she had to go home straight after school
or there would be trouble. In fact, there was usually trouble no matter what
she did. She could not seem to get it right somehow.
She finished her piano practice then went to the
cupboard to take out her violin and began to run up and down a few scales. She
turned on hearing a noise and found HH standing behind her. How had he got so close
without her hearing him?
‘Oh my god, you frightened the living
daylights out of me. What on earth are you doing here? The school is all locked
up. You shouldn’t be here.’ She felt more angry than scared and her
anger made her lift her head and look straight into his eyes, which seemed to
pierce straight through her. They were, they were, oh
god!
They
were very, very blue and deep and she felt as though she was falling into
them. She couldn’t speak. He held her gaze. There was a connection at last.
Looking down in her normal shy way she observed that
he was wearing very expensive shoes. They looked Italian. Shoes were her
fetish. You can tell a lot about a person from their shoes. She
shook her head and looked up again.
‘You can’t get out you know. It’s all locked up. All the doors are locked
and the caretaker’s gone and…’
‘And? And how are you going to get out
then?’
‘I have a key to Val’s room. Are you spying on me?’ Her anger increased.
‘What do you want? Why are you here?’
This time it was Harry who was thrown off balance.
There was more to Little Miss Shrinking Violet than the eye could see. Of
course, he had suspected it from the passion she put in her music. To look at
her you would think she was a Moonlight Sonata kind of player,
not Tchaikovsky. But now he had witnessed it directed at him it really turned
him on. His eyes lit up in response to hers.
They stood drinking each other in, having thoughts
that they dare not verbalise. She was thinking that
she wanted to gaze into his eyes forever. He was thinking that if she carried
on looking into his eyes like that, he would not be responsible for his actions.
‘I’ll go,’
said Harry. ‘I’ll leave you to your practice. But may I also leave
these duets. I would love to play them with you for the school concert. Perhaps
you could run through them and let me know which you prefer and then we can organise a rehearsal. What do you think?’ I can’t think Rachael thought, when you’re
standing so close and looking at me like that with those eyes, which are eating
me with desire!)
‘So, what do you think?’ said Harry again who was staring at
her lips waiting for them to answer him but wanting to cover them with his own.
Sarah forced her eyes down to the parquet floor to
help her gain control of herself and stuttered, ‘erm
okay, O-o-o K, I mean, yes, I’ll try them.’
Harry not trusting himself to remain any longer
without touching this enticing creature said, ‘Fine, let me know sometime.’ He turned and left.
In a daze of desire, her hands shook as she picked up
her violin and was replacing it in its case when, he returned.
‘You have to help me,’ he said. ‘As you told me. The school is all locked up. You’ll
have to let me out.’
She tried to speak but found her tongue was paralysed so she picked up the key, which was lying
on the table. She walked as quickly as she could to Val’s classroom unlocked the door and held it
open without saying a word. A he passed her, he inhaled the perfume of her hair and almost gave in to his urge to kiss her,
but he didn’t want to spoil his
chances by coming on too strong, too soon.
‘Goodnight, er, Mrs. Wright.’ He almost called her Violet.
‘Goodnight, Mr. H-H-Hall,’ she said surprised that she could speak.
They
both knew after this encounter that they would play the duet for the concert.
Harry was determined that it would be the start of something,
Sarah was terrified of her own feelings. If Frank suspected that, she was
practicing with a male member of
staff she would be in for it. So far, she
had managed to keep the rehearsals to school time,
fitting them into breaks and lunch hours. She knew that it would be too
dangerous to stay after school with him.
One morning break Val said, ‘I notice that you haven’t borrowed my key lately. Aren’t you practicing something for the
concert? You usually stay late to practise when Frank’s on lates, and,
we haven’t been for a drink lately. It’s half term and your birthday this week, isn't it? How about Friday then? We haven’t had a chat for ages.’
‘Sure, I
really need to talk to you. See you in the pub about five. You can get in the
first round; you owe me one.’
On Friday night they were installed comfortably in a corner of The Red Lion pub.
‘Right,
drinks,’ Val said. ‘What do you want?’
‘If you
want to know what I want, it’s a new
job, a divorce and a new life,’
Sarah said suddenly.
‘Bloody Hell Sal, when I asked you what you wanted, I meant what do you want to drink. Is it really that bad? I noticed you left your violin
at school. Don’t you want to practice over half term? Don’t tell me you’ve given up already. You were doing so
well and with this new chap, well, you never know.’
‘Never know what? I hate him!
I hate going home! I’ll have a whiskey and ginger, no… make it a double.’
‘Who, you hate the
new violin teacher? I thought you were practicing with him.’
‘No, you
know who I mean, Frank, my dearly beloved. Can you believe I actually agreed to
all that crap? How did Prince Charming change into this raging beast? You know,
all those fairy stories we were told were wrong.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Take Beauty and the Beast. He
starts out as a beast; she kisses him, and he turns into a handsome Prince. In
my case he starts out handsome, I kiss him and bingo! He turns into a beast.’
Val stood up to go to the bar saying, ‘You are right. My first husband did the
frog into Prince thing in reverse, didn’t
he? I’ll get the drinks and then let’s talk about something more interesting.’
When Val came back with the drinks, she saw that her
friend was near to tears.
‘Come on spill the beans not the tears. You
can talk to me.’
Sarah talked in a whisper, ‘What’s the point? It’s the same old, same old, boring,
boring, boring. Arguments, fights, fight arguments. All about nothing really.
We just don’t love each other. We should never have
married. He works, watches TV, goes to the match and wants sex. I read, play
music, knit, all of which he hates me doing. And he wants sex. I long to go out
to the theatre or cinema or to a
concert. And he wants sex. He won’t come with me, and he creates merry hell if I suggest
going alone. It’s not worth it. Did I mention he wa…?’
‘I get it,’ Val interrupted the flow, ‘he wants sex. And speak up I can
hardly hear what you are saying.’
‘You never know who’s listening. If he ever thought that I
talked like this, he would kill me. ‘
‘He used to be such good fun and so fit and sporty.’
‘He can’t play football anymore. He used to till he won all those medals and ‘player of the year’ cup. But with all that
weight he carries he can barely walk, never mind run around kicking a ball. He still
goes to the matches and to the training, but he
just goes to watch and then joins the
lads in the pub so he can sink a few pints. I don’t mind that. I
get a bit of peace while he’s
out and if he’s drunk enough when he gets home then he
won’t bother me for sex.’
‘So, if it’s so bad why do you stay? The girls have
left home. You could just walk out. How are the girls by the way?’
‘Well, you know that Lizzie has moved to
France and now she and her husband Roger organise
skiing holidays. Katie is working in the publishing department at the
University of London.’
‘They are both settled then. I ask you
again. Why don’t you leave?’
‘I ask myself the same thing over and over.
I’m just too scared, I guess. Do you remember
I did try to leave once? I bought that little cottage. I felt scared all the
time. I felt naked living alone. Then he came around every night either
declaring undying love or trying to kill me. I couldn’t stand it, so I went back.’
‘Why did you stay so close?’
‘Because of the girls’ schools, I didn’t want them to be more upset than they
were already with the separation.’
‘So, you have to move away this time. Far
away and do not let him know where you are.’
‘It sounds so easy when we talk about it,
but I suppose I am just a wimp. I am too scared. Let’s have another drink and talk about
something else. I’ll have to go soon, or I shall get the
third degree when I get home. I am supposed to go straight home from school.’
Sarah went to the bar to get the second round. Val
watched her, thinking, ‘She is a wimp. She’s pathetic. I wouldn’t have stayed with him a day if he treated
me like he treats her. She used to be so lively and interesting. Although she
never had much confidence and what she had he has
knocked out of her.’
Rachael meanwhile was thinking, ‘it’s all right for her she doesn’t have to do it. She is happily married
with an intelligent, kind, interesting, helpful husband who seems quite sane. I
can’t tell
her how bad it really is with Frank. I feel so ashamed.’
When Rachael returned with the drinks, the conversation
became work related. They finished their drinks and promised to meet
during the holidays. Val left and =Rachael went to the ladies. As she came out,
head bent looking down as was her usual timid way; she bumped into a man who
was carrying a tray of drinks and the
full glasses shook.
‘Oh my god, I am so sorry, I should look
where I am going, oh dear.’
‘Don’t sound so worried. I haven’t dropped the tray and there is only minor
spillage.’
‘What can I do? Let me reimburse you or
something,’ said Rachael still looking at the ground.
‘Well, if it isn’t Mrs Wright!’
Sarah managed to lift her head up and down again
quickly to glance at the
speaker’s face, it was him,
and she caught a glimpse of his bright blue eyes.
‘Yes,’ she whispered.
‘I wanted to talk to you today but there
wasn’t time. We really should get together more
often. Look, this tray is heavy and there are people waiting for these drinks.
Why not join us?’
‘Can’t, sorry, very sorry, I must
go,’ said Sarah and she headed for the door.
‘What kept you? We’re chewing
sawdust here,’ shouted one of his colleagues as he stood
watching her leave.
‘Blimey who was that? She looks like a bit
of all right. How do you know her?’ said another. ‘Looks like your type. Slim, long blonde
hair.’
Am I ever going to break through that shell, he
thought? When we practise in
school, she seems to be opening up. I thought I was getting somewhere. He
turned, strode to their table and put the tray down.
Harry sat and picked up his pint, but he did not drink
it. He wondered why she was so shy in fact; she had seemed frightened.
She was starting to be more friendly in school and now it looked as though they
were right back to square one.
‘Come on, stop thinking about her and tell
us about her.’
‘Really there is nothing to tell,’ he said and thought, ‘isn’t that the truth!’ He still hoped that
there might well-be something to tell in the future because he was determined to get to find out
what her problem was. Also, he liked a bit of a challenge and Sarah Wright was
certainly that. It was going to take all his charm to get her into bed. When
she had looked up into his eyes, he had detected something that gave him a
thrill. He had seen a real glimpse of the passion, the same passion he heard
when she played the piano. He took a great gulp of his beer placed the glass
down and said, ‘I thought this was a string-team meeting
not a dating-club. Who’s done the agendas and when and where is
our next concert.’
Outside, Rachael remembered that she had intended to tell Val about her fears.
She knew that even playing duets with Harry Hall was playing with fire. At
least she thought that if she kept to playing in school time nothing could
happen. Telling Val how she felt would have made it more real, more dangerous.
Keeping it all inside was best. Nobody could know how she felt and anyway
nothing was ever going to happen. All she had to do was to keep thinking about
Frank and that would keep her from doing anything stupid. She shuddered at the
thought of her husband and could feel the bruise on her breast where he had
bitten her last night. Why did he have to be so violent? She tried to do
everything he wanted. So, she went home
to face the music yet again. Face the music, that was a good phrase. Being with
Frank was nothing like music, in fact, it was the opposite. Where in god’s name had that phrase come from?
The
end of term concert neared, and their rehearsals became more frequent. Sarah
enjoyed them much more now, not
only because of the music but because she felt more relaxed in Harry’s company. She felt safe thinking that they could
enjoy each other’s presence without going any further as
long as they rehearsed in school time.
Rachael had always enjoyed school life more than her
home life but now it was pure pleasure and she joined in with the staff room
frivolity with the rest of the teachers. She even laughed when they made
innuendos about her and Harry.
‘I heard you making beautiful music with Mr
Hall again,’ said Roy. ‘I hope you only do it in school.’
‘Look she’s blushing,’ said Joyce Booth, Year
six teacher.
The Xmas concert was of course a tremendous success.
The audience stood, cheered, and called for an encore after Harry and Sarah’s duet. Harry took Sarah’s hand as they took their bow. Then he
turned and kissed her on both cheeks. No one thought that this was unusual behaviour. It was what performers did. But not for Sarah. She could not deny
that his touch was like an electric current passing through her body. She
feared that the whole audience could see her tremble. Harry certainly did. In
addition, he had to be honest, the sensation of the kisses had sent
shock waves to parts of his body that the music had not reached. So, that was that. The concert was over and so was the term.
Now came the holidays with no
chance of their meeting.
Harry’s hopes of getting his shrinking violet
into bed diminished once again. He had not succeeded, and he could not
understand why. He had no more ideas about how to get to know her and he had
more or less given up on the idea. Pretty as she was, there were always
more musicians in the orchestra as far as Harry Hall was concerned. Her
rejection had niggled him a little since it was the first time, he had
experienced one but what the hell. There was a new young player on the string-team, and he
fancied getting to know her.
