Chapter one The First Meeting

 

The First Meeting

April

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 to prepare for assembly. The walk-in storeroom in the corner of the hall behind the grand piano was Rachael’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. As she sat 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 Rachael. 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 Rachael 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’d 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.

Sarah had given birth to two daughters who were her pride and joy. 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.  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… directed at Racheal.

 

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 'the 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.'

‘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 am looking forward to hearing a duet from you and heat 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 possibly ?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 He did not think he had ever 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 ? servicing 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... There 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 that’s nothing like a well-tuned engine. Very funny.’

Sarah threw her head back and laughed as she thought, ‘Why can’t my home life be like this. If only I could please Frank. him.’ 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 Sarah and vice versa. However, since college Sarah had let her hair grow really long and Val had kept hers short. Sarah 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 goodness sake Val don’t bend over or we’ll see your pants,’ was a comment Sarah 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, Sarah 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. fell silent. 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?’ (How can I I can’t think Sarah, 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 meYou were right, 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. As he passed her to exit, In passing her, he inhaled her 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 ?him 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 do that when Frank’s on lates, and, we haven’t been for a drink lately. It’s half term and your birthday this week. is 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 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 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 and he won all those medals and ‘player of the year’ cup. But really 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. with the lads. 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 because she and her husband Roger organise skiing holidays. Katie is working in the publishing department in 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 sacred 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.’

Sarah 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 Sarah returned with the drinks, the conversation became work related.  They finished their drinks and promised to meet during the holidays. Val left and Sarah 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 Sarah 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 but 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, Sarah knew 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. She was going home to 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 so much more now, not only because of the music but because she felt more relaxed in Harry’s company. She felt safe that they could enjoy each other’s presence without going any further as long as they rehearsed in school time.

Sarah 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 behavior. 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.  Then So, that was that. The concert was over and so was the term. Now and then 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.