The CRES code

Chapter Fifty Five - Music Lessons

     As a child, Randall's parents had insisted that he learn how to play the piano. He never found out why. Maybe it was just one of those things that a well brought up child was expected to be able to do. The piano didn't exist in this new world, it seemed, but they had a very similar instrument called a balichord and they had one in the common room of the Interesting Weasel. It was similar enough that when Randall sat down on the small padded stool a few days after the arrival of the army and tried to play it he was able to perform a very passable rendition of The Girl with the Flaxen Hair by Debussy, although the sound the instrument produced had a slightly tinny quality and the notes died away quicker. The balichird was intended to play with a somewhat faster rhythm, it seemed.

     He stopped playing when he realised how dangerous it was to be playing twenty first century music. If someone heard him and started whistling the tune while walking down the street and a priest heard, they would know that there was a hibernator in the city. Fortunately there was a book of sheet music sitting on the balichord. The notation was different from what he was used to, but he was soon able to figure it out and was soon playing contemporary music on it. Randall thought it compared poorly to Debussy, let alone Bach or Beethoven, but it had a certain charm to it.

     Soon, people were gathering around to hear him play. Just staff members and their families for the most part, as it was too early in the day for there to be any customers, but they enjoyed the music, to Randall's delight, and were soon clapping along to the rhythm. One of the coal boys even began accompanying him on a hand carved flute, the two very different sounds complimenting each other surprisingly well.

     "You're pretty good," said Maisey when he'd finished and Randall was looking through the book for another tune to play. "Bert usually plays, but he's off with a broken arm. Perhaps you could fill in for him until he's back in action." She pushed her tangly red hair back out of her eyes and reached out to leaf through the book. "This was one of his favourites. The Drunken Farmer."

     Randall stared at the music as he tried to interpret it into a form he was familiar with, then began tapping it out on the keyboard. It turned out to be simple to play and pleasing to the ear and his audience gathered around closer until Maisey's father, the tavern's owner, chased them off back to their work. He glared disapprovingly at Randall, but there was nothing he could do about the Hero of Duffield and the Tamer of the Barons and so he merely grumbled to himself as he went back to his bookkeeping, leaving Randall and Maisey alone with the balichord.

     "Is it hard to learn?" asked Maisey.

     "The balichord? Well, I learned on an instrument similar to this and it took me about a year to become reasonably good. You could probably learn the basics quite quickly, though." He stood and gestured for the girl to take his seat. "Stick to the white keys for the time being. You can see that they come in groups of seven..."

     Maisey turned out to have a natural talent for the music and was soon playing a rather basic version of The Drunken Farmer with growing confidence. She turned to grin happily back at Randall and he smiled back encouragingly, surprised by how happy he suddenly felt. This was nice! Teaching music to a young girl who, in other circumstances, might have been his daughter. He'd always been too busy with his business dealings to think about having a family and he felt a sudden regret at what he'd been missing. This simple feeling. This simple sense of togetherness with someone you cared for. He should have had a child, he scolded himself. He should have found the time...

     But if he had, he or she would almost certainly have perished in the nuclear apocalypse, he suddenly realised. And even if he or she had survived, their life would have been a living hell in the aftermath. Radiation, starvation, roving gangs of thugs stealing and raping their way across the ruined landscape. No, he was suddenly immensely glad that he hadn't had a family, but it wasn't too late. He was still fairly young, and Dolly was only just in her forties. He found himself imagining himself, Dolly and Maisy living together as a family, with Dolly maybe bearing him more children in the fulness of time. Maisey would become merely the eldest of the children he would raise with Dolly, and in time there would be grandchildren...