Piano Lessons
The Piano Lessons.
The dark green lorry with Leonards removals, Nottingham. written in bold, gold, letters, swirling on its side like a newspaper headline, pulled into the terraced street. As it pulled up with a hiss of air brakes, a fifteen-year- old metallic blue mini stopped behind it and then pulled in front of it.
The workers sat in the lorry for a few minutes while the driver grappled with paperwork and his mate folded the map which had guided them.
The lounge curtain of number 35 twitched and a brown eye watched the commotion through the slit between the curtains.
“What is it Gwen?” Came a voice from behind her.
“New family at number thirty-two.” She spoke quietly as though not to reveal she was watching.
“Good, it’s been empty a while.” He spoke with a soft Welsh accent and moved to join her. He placed his head above hers and rested his chin on the top of her head. “A young couple.” He said as he watched.
The couple were now talking to the head removal man while two others had left the lorry and opened the back doors and let down the ramp that had formed the back of the lorry. The husband went to the front door of the house, closely followed by his wife and the chief remover. He opened the door and both he and his wife went inside. The chief waved with his arm and the first items were taken off the lorry. A half of a king-sized bed was taken through the front door.
“Clever how they put all the upstairs items on first.” Remarked Bryn.
“Yes, because they have to go upstairs and it’s better when your strong and fresh. Imagine walking up-stairs after three hours or so, of removing things. Imagine how tired you’d be!” Said Gwen.
“Yes. True.” Bryn agreed.
The mother came back to the car and ushered out two little girls. They both had blonde curly hair and wore exactly the same dresses; red with gold stars.
Gwen and Bryn smiled in unison at the sight of the little figures holding their mother’s hand as they went inside.
“Angels.” Gwen said as she watched them.
“Yes.” Bryn nodded, “little angels.”
After two hours of steady removing, a piano was rolled down the ramp and with the husband’s help, lifted over the doorstep into the house. It was the last heavy item and exactly three and a half hours after they’d began, the removal men were back in their lorry driving away. The blue mini stayed. The front door closed.
“Time for some tea, Bryn.” Gwen moved from under him. Bryn stopped her and held her. “No Bryn, please!” She whimpered.
“Just a moment, young lady.” Bryn said with authoritative bitterness. He held her against him.
Monday morning, they watched as the mother helped her daughters into the back of the mini. Their olive-green school uniforms, pinafore dresses with crisp white blouse and yellow and green slanted stripe ties, drove away for their first day at school. Bryn Jenkins and his sister Gwen watched and reminisced about their own first days at school.
The mother returned from the school run and as she alighted from the mini, she glanced over towards their house. Quickly closing the slit in the curtains, Gwen and Bryn slunk away into the blackness of the room.
A few minutes later there was a gentle tap on their front door. Bryn nodded to Gwen and she left the lounge to answer the door. He listened.
“Hi, I’m Rita Howard. We’ve just moved in across the road, number 32.”
“Nice to meet you.” Gwen held out her hand. Rita hesitated and then took it, Gwen held it for a moment before shaking it. She looked at Rita’s hand. “You have piano fingers.” She smiled admiringly. “Do you play? Only I noticed a piano coming off that lorry when you arrived.”
Rita smiled. “Unfortunately, not.” She offered, “but my daughters do.”
Gwen raised an eyebrow. “Pity.”
Rita continued, “I noticed the sign in your window, piano lessons, all levels.”
“That’s my brother Bryn, mainly, but we both teach.”
Rita smiled, “My daughters, Clara and Lizzy are quite talented.” She looked at Gwen, who smiled and offered. “Shall I call Bryn?”
“OOhh, yes, if he’s around?” Rita said enthusiastically.
Gwen glanced over her shoulder and yelled loudly, “Bryn! Come yer, There’s a lady about piano lessons!”
Rita peered around Gwen into the hallway as if to catch first sight of the brilliant Bryn.
“My accent is it, Rita?” Gwen stared at her.
Rita instantly lost her smile. “What?”
“It’s how we speak, Rita. Doesn’t mean we are backward or stupid!”
“No, no, it’s lovely, just different, “ Rita’s face reddened. “I didn’t mean that.”
Gwen gave her a disbelievingly, menacing look.
Bryn appeared behind her at the door. “Hello, I’m Bryn.” His smile was warm. He moved forward and edged in beside Gwen.
“Come in,” He beckoned, glancing up at the sky, “looks like rain. Step in Rita,” He hesitated, “it is Rita? Isn’t it?”
Rita nodded and waited for them to retreat a little into the hallway. She took a step forward and entered.
The passage was decorated with swaying grass, yellow daffodils and trees reaching up to a once bright blue sky. All the colours had faded, but it still felt as if you were on a country walk, not entering a terraced house in mid-Wales. It sent a chill down Rita’s spine.
As the couples inched backwards past an open doorway, with a wave of his hand, Bryn motioned her to go on through to the dimly lit lounge.
A sofa and two chairs were crammed together facing an baroque fireplace, but the bulk of the room was used to accommodate two huge, black, grand pianos. There was no television, but in the corner was an ornately carved wooden cabinet, with a glass dial sandwiched between two baculite knobs and two circular grids. It looked like a face with a mouth and two eyes.
“Do you like the radio?” Gwen asked. “We don’t watch television, see.” Her eyes were set on Rita and her mouth was straight as if to counter any argument.
“Beautiful!” Said Rita. Her eyes now fixed on the pianos. “wow, those pianos are stunning!” She smiled.
Bryn held his hands out in front of him as if he’d noticed the instruments for the first time. Gwen nodded.
“We are very proud of them.” Bryn said as he stroked the lid and body of the one nearest him. Gwen stared at Rita and nodded her agreement.
After a few seconds Gwen asked, “Shall we play for her?”
Bryn nodded, “Good idea!” and made his way to the furthest piano. The pianos were placed together so each pianist could see each other. They sat in unison.
For the next ten minutes the music was sensational. It was obvious to Rita, they were both very accomplished pianists. The music melded as did the pianos in a perfect musical cocktail. Rita felt as if, she was in a bath of warm melodious ecstasy.
When they’d finished, she applauded enthusiastically. “My god!” she enthused, holding her hand to her mouth. “I have never heard anything so beautiful. So wonderful! Please tell me how much lessons cost.”
“Well we are quite fully booked.” Bryn, frowned.
Gwen bit her lip. “And we are expensive.” She glanced at Bryn who nodded to confirm what his sister had said.
“Oh,” Rita’s shoulders slumped.
Bryn glanced at Gwen. “Look, can we have a trial and see what level your girls are at?” He asked. Gwen’s face brightened.
“Well they are good, and they are preparing for a concert in Nottingham.” Rita gushed, “though I know there’s lots of room for improvement and I just know, you can take them to the next level.” Her eyes sparkled pleadingly.
“Okay!” Bryn clapped his hands together.
Arrangements were made to listen to the girls after school, with a view to seeing if they could fit them into their schedule. Later that afternoon, Rita brought Clara and Lizzy to Gwen and Bryn Roberts for an assessment. Each girl sat at a piano and took it in turns to play. Bryn immediately said he could reschedule some of his less talented students. It was agreed both he and his sister would give three, two-hour lessons, per week for one hundred pounds. Rita hurriedly agreed and paid for the first two weeks in advance. From now on, Clara and Lizzy would have their lessons, every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, straight from school.
Bryn would sit closely to Clara and Gwen would sit next to Lizzy as they played. When they’d finished playing, Gwen would hug Lizzy and Bryn would cuddle Clara. Sometimes they would admire the girls, by standing behind them. Bryn developed a habit of sitting Clara on his lap as she played and he’d gently stroke her legs. Gwen would place her hand on Lizzies waist and her nose would nuzzle her hair. Slowly, hands would wander under little pinafores and touch innocent white panties. The children played on.
Each lesson, the girls would bring a snack in their backpacks and after the first hour, Bryn and Gwen would let them eat and drink. The girls were told to take off their shoes and let their feet rest. Bryn would gently massage Lizzy and Gwen would undo Clara’s pinafore to help her breathe.
After a few days. Bryn announced to the girls he was ill. They looked shocked and concerned and asked if they could help. Gwen showed them where to touch Bryn and how much better it would be if they had less clothes to wear; as clothes restricted the treatment. She took pictures and the girls were really pleased to help. They ate their lunch, sometimes without their cumbersome pinafores, blouses and ties. That would be the first hour of each lesson.
It was Friday when the next lesson took place. “Okay girls how are we today?” Gwen asked, helping them off with their coats and hanging them up. The girls looked at her and then at Bryn and they both said, “We are fine, Mister and Miss Roberts!” They smiled.
“Before we start, Bryn and I need our massages.” Gwen said forcefully. “It helps us relax”
“Yes, we understand Mister and Miss!” The girls spoke as one. They picked up their lunch boxes, held them in their hands and placed them by each piano.
A removal van with Bryn and Gwen’s of Llandudno, written in gold letters, stopped outside of number thirty-two. The chief removal man in a dusty brown overall, got out of the cab and knocked the front door. Meanwhile, his two mates opened the back and lowered the long ramp.
As Clara rubbed Bryn; Gwen held Lizzies hand while she massaged her between her legs. Suddenly both girls stopped and reached for their rucksacks. “We’re hungry!” They said.
With closed eyes, Gwen groaned and Bryn moaned. The girls unzipped the rucksacks, and each produced a large kitchen knife. Before Gwen or Bryn knew what was happening, a flash of steel followed by an excruciating cacophony of pain ripped their backs. The brother and sister’s clothes acted like blotting paper as the redness expanded from the gaping wounds. “This is fun!” Exclaimed Clara, plunging the knife in once more.
“Yes, better than piano playing!” Yelled Lizzy as she repeatedly stabbed the knife deeper into Gwen’s back twisting it with each new thrust.
Bryn’s mouth filled with blood as Clara moved in front of him and with mechanical slashing movements, opened his stomach. She grabbed at his exposed crotch and his penis dropped to the floor.
As if dancing to music, the children moved with grace, slashing and cutting. Their naked bodies dancing between the two teachers. Each blade used to cut more precisely. Vital archeries spurted their contents and severed tendons rendered them paralysed while wide awake helpless eyes waited for the relief of the final, fatal, slash.
The expert assassins knew how to prolong suffering and showed their proficiency while admiring briefly their own expertise, with a contented nod. When the time arrived, the victims gratefully breathed their last.
The piano appeared at the threshold of number 32 and their father helped the men to get it out of the house.
The two girls gathered their clothes and dressed. Their impeccable uniforms looked as new as the first time they had worn them. They picked up their rucksacks carefully replacing the knives and left the house, quietly closing the front door. They glanced over their shoulders before they crossed the road, and calmly took their seats in the back of the blue mini. As silent pianos and gaping mouths with bulging eyes stared without hearing or seeing.
With the piano now safely loaded. Rita kissed her husband. They walked to the mini. He sat in the passenger seat and Rita started the engine. She smiled as she glanced over at number 35. The curtains didn’t twitch.
She looked over her shoulder at her daughters. “Did you enjoy your piano lessons?”
Together and enthusiastically, they replied. “Very much mummy, we learnt an awful lot!”
“Where are we going now, mummy?” Asked Clara.
“There’s a football coach in Leicester who trains little boys.” She turned to her two angelic, blonde haired sons, sitting in the back of the car.
They smiled at her, “We love football!” They exclaimed. “we can’t wait mummy!” They grinned.
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