Our Song : Track 9

The Musical Interludes of a Last Chance Romantic

The Cage - Track 9 of 11

The door opened, and into the hallway stepped a long slender leg, followed by a second carrying upon them the body of a slim and attractive young lady with dark brown bobbed hair. Upon her forearm arm rested a small black leather handbag, the strap of which hung loosely over her shoulder.
“Tina, thanks so much for coming over.” Louise greeted her friend with a quick single handed hug and small kiss on the cheek. “Jamie is upstairs having his morning nap, he’ll probably wake about eleven.”
“Don’t you worry, he’ll be fine. He can show me some of his new toys he got from his Uncles. Have you seen either of them lately?”
“Frank and Colin? Not for a while. I think Colin’s on some sort of marriage rebuilding holiday.”
“Again?” Tina laughed as she manoeuvred her way past Louise into the narrow hallway and placed her bag onto the small table set to the side.
“Oh yes, seems like the girl just won’t see sense.”
“You don’t think he’ll ever learn?”
“Not while she keeps forgiving the bastard. He’s more like Dad than either of them will admit.”
Tina just laughed and shook her head, “Boys.”
“I tell you what, I’d have chopped off both his balls if my husband had’ve treated me the way Colin treats Marie.”
“You don’t need to tell me, I remember Dave.” The two women laughed, as Tina walked into the kitchen, Louise behind her. “Coffee?”
“I’m alright thanks, I better get going.”
“How is your Dad?” Tina asked as she lifted the kettle and walked it over to the sink.
“I’ve tried calling him a couple of times this morning, but there was no answer, so I’m going to drop by and check on him.”
“I’m sure he’ll be OK, probably pottering around in the garden. You know how his mind runs away with him.”
“That’s what I thought, but then, am I just being naively optimistic?” She shook her head as she looked at Tina with a deep worry etched across her face. “I don’t know Tina, I wonder sometimes if I’m just kidding myself. He’s not doing well at all. He eats rubbish, never washes, spends most his time walking around the house still in his dressing gown. And he looks so old. I don’t think he’s been sleeping properly for some time.”
“Have you asked him?”
“It’s difficult to get any sense out of him these days.” Louise looked at her friend, before tears began to well up in her eyes, and within seconds she was resting her forehead on Tina’s shoulder as she cried. “I just don’t know what to do with him anymore.”
Tina held her friend close, stroking her hair to comfort her. Louise continued to weep, tears were soaking Tina’s cardigan. For a good few minutes, Louise let out her frustration until the tears slowly began to dry up, and she was able to lift herself and dry her eyes.
“It’s been five years since the accident, and I really don’t think there’s been any improvements. If anything, he’s got worse.”
“Does he ever talk about it?”
“I sometimes don’t think he even realises it happened. He just seems to be living in this completely different world from the rest of us. It’s like I’m losing my Dad, and I don’t know what to do other than watch it happen.”
Again Louise gave out a cry, and again her friend Tina took hold of her in her arms as she released a second flurry of anguish. There was a whole host of things she considered saying to her, but as the two of them stood there in the middle of the kitchen, she realised that there were no words that could adequately console her friend in this situation.
And so they remained, allowing years of tension to release from Louise’s body. Her anxiety for her father’s health had increased in recent months with the arrival of the day in question only adding to his already frail emotional state.
“I better go.” Louise released herself from the embrace with her friend and turned to the front door. She slipped her shoes onto her feet and stepped out of the flat. “Thanks again Tina.” She forced a smile and shut the door behind her.
Things would be better once she’d seen that he was OK, she was certain of it. But another part of her wondered whether she should be intervening at all, or allow things to take their course. It was this constant conflict within her that allowed the current set of circumstances to have continued to play out in such a manner for the last few years.
Was it her place to interfere? She felt responsible for the welfare of her father, but at the same time had the welfare of her own young son to consider. She could offer him support, but as a grown adult he had to be responsible for his own decisions, to live life as he chose. Even if those decisions were, in her own mind, clearly wrong.
The various lines of thought were threading themselves through the patterns in Louise’s mind, as she found herself leaving the communal door of her block of flats. The door slammed shut with a loud click indicating the lock had activated on her departure.
The path ahead led out onto the main footpath, that in turn was to head towards the High Street. Louise’s father lived only a matter of minutes away, on the other side of the small parade of shops that somehow represented themselves as a Town Centre.
“Louise?” A voice appeared from behind her. A recognisable voice that caused Louise’s shoulders to drop on hearing it. “Louise!” This time the voice was a little more insistent and accompanied by hurried footsteps that were closing in at an alarming rate.
Reluctantly, Louise turned around and acknowledged the arrival of an old friend called Sophie. It wasn’t that she held any particular blame towards Sophie, the two of them had grown up together for a number of years as best friends. But too much had passed by, rendering their relationship irreconcilable to the format it had once taken all those years ago.
As a result, Louise generally held no significant aversion to communicating with Sophie. However, with their past being as it was, today of all days was not the day to be crossing paths.
“Hey babe, how you doing? I haven’t seen you in ages.”
Sophie’s family had been close with that of Louise’s, often partaking in joint holidays or alternate barbeque evenings. And as a result, Sophie and Louise, between whom were just a matter of months, grew up together as very close friends. The two had often joked about being sisters owing to the inseparable nature of their relationship in youth.
But in an instant, things can change. Events occur that alter one’s perception of one’s self and one’s surroundings, along with those that occupy a space within the given environment. Louise and Sophie had drifted apart, only to see each other in passing on the odd occasion.
“Have a cup of coffee with me?” Sophie demanded, smiling politely and pleading with her eyes for Louise to accept the invitation.
Louise hesitated, “I’ve really got to get going.” She didn’t want to give the impression of any animosity; after all she didn’t blame Sophie for what had happened. But she knew, only too well, that the proximity of both of them to the course of events in question were undeniable and would always wedge a degree of uncertainty between the two of them.
“C’mon, it’s been so long since we last spoke. Just a quick catch up, please. My treat.”
Louise accepted, there wasn’t much else she could say with Sophie hanging from her arm in desperation. Had she have declined, it may well have been the last she saw of that particular limb.
The coffee shop in question from where they were to catch up was only a matter of minutes away, and was in fact in the same direction as Louise’s father. On arriving, Louise took a seat in the small patio area at the front of the shop, whilst Sophie entered to purchase refreshments.
“Coffee?”
“Latte, please. Make it milky.”
Louise always used to enjoy a large cup of cappuccino when the two of them used to venture into a coffee shop as youngsters, but as Sophie had readily acknowledged, many things had changed in the last five years. She made her way into the shop to purchase the aforementioned beverages, and Louise sat back glancing across the tables.
Sat at a table just beside her were a couple of elderly ladies chatting over a couple of steaming hot cups of tea. One of which was clearly older than the other, this was apparent from the way in which she leant forward in an attempt to hear her compatriot as she asked her to repeat herself.
“Where did you say you went?”
“Dortmund.”
“Lovely place Germany,” She paused taking another sip of her tea cup, and as if to herself, mused “Very clean.”
“Martin often travels across Europe you know. He has said that he will take me to his holiday home in the Alps.”
“Did you say Martin? I could have sworn you were married to Dennis.”
“Oh dear me no, Martin is my son, second eldest.”
“Second eldest? How many did you have?”
“Four, all boys.”
“Dear me, that was lucky.”
“Dennis, Martin, George and James.”
“I’m sorry dear?”
“My son’s names. Dennis, Martin, George and James.”
“Oh my yes, your husband must be most delighted.”
“I’m afraid he’s no longer with us.”
The old girl placed her tea cup flat on the table and looked around surprised. “When was he here?”
“Who?”
“Your husband?”
“No, I said he’s no longer with us. He’s passed away.”
“I see.”
“Dennis passed away nearly twenty years ago.”
“Dennis? Wasn’t he your eldest?”
“Dennis my husband.”
“Oh.”
The old girls ceased talking for a short while as they each sipped their drinks with loud slurping noises.
Once again, the elder of the two commenced speaking, placing her tea cup down on the table between them, “They do have funny sausages.”
The younger lady took a loose hold of her glasses and pushed them over her eyes as she examined the list of available snacks on the small card menu placed on the table. “Not for me, I only really fancied a coffee thank you.”
“I’m not one for German foods. Plays terrible havoc with my tummy.”
Still reading through the menu, the younger of the two continued thoughtfully. “Hmm, they have a tuna melt if you wanted something savoury.”
Louise couldn’t help but laugh to herself as she listened to the two ladies talking. The two of them seemed to be having very different conversations, and yet both also seemed quite contented with the way in which they conversed. It was a wonderful image to behold, these two dear old friends enjoying one another’s company, whether or not they were actively participating in either’s discussion.
It was testament to a cherished friendship between the two ladies that had clearly spanned decades. But as sweet as it was, Louise couldn’t help but feel uneasy about the way in which both ladies seemed to be manoeuvring their own part of the conversation in an entirely different direction.
She glanced through the door to see Sophie stood by the counter with a single cup of coffee, waiting for the second. Was this really how she wanted her friendship with Sophie to turn out? Nattering about the minor irritations in life, never really connecting on matters that were really important?
Louise realised that Sophie wanted to make amends. For years they had been such close friends, sharing one another’s secrets, and supporting one another through the trials and tribulations of growing up. But something had changed. One evening they went to sleep as best friends, and in the morning with the rising of the sun, through no fault of either, they woke to become virtual strangers.
It hadn’t been coincidence that Sophie had been passing by her flat as Louise left. She had more than likely chosen this day in particular to try and reacquaint their friendship. But as Louise switched her gaze from her former best friend in the café, to the old acquaintances sat at the table beside her, she realised that maybe such a relationship could never be fully reconciled after such an experience. She realised that there was somewhere else she had to be.
Rising to her feet, Louise took a final glance over at Sophie, still waiting by the counter, before walking away from the table and past the two elderly ladies.
“Didn’t she come with a friend?”
“I would imagine she would have at her age, far too young to be married.” 
“I’m sure it was that girl at the counter, in the café.”
“Oh no, he wasn’t here. She came with that girl in the café.”
Louise heard the two old women talking about her, not particularly subtle about it either, and once again not entirely coherent with one another. But there didn’t appear to be anything offensive in what they were saying so she simply smiled and walked away.
When Sophie was to step out just moments later, she would see the empty table where her friend had been sitting. She would ask the dear old ladies sat at the table beside theirs what had happened to her friend, but the response would be corrupted with contradiction and mixed within a muddle of misdirected messages.
She wouldn’t know whether to make chase after her disappearing friend, or to accept the eroding nature of their relationship through the passing of time. Of course she would look, in all directions, to see if there was any trace of Louise. But the doubt in her mind would prevent her eyes from properly seeing what she was looking for. A cloud surrounded her cornea, causing her short sighted visuals to prevent her focusing on the quickly departing Louise in the distance. 
Such an occasion played itself out within Louise’s mind as she paced down the road and out of sight. It was possible that the enactment of Sophie’s reaction was entirely different to that conceived by Louise, but at the hasty pace she was making there was no time to consider alternatives.
The direct walk between the two properties would usually take Louise between fifteen and twenty minutes, although that could increase to as much as thirty to forty minutes depending on the mood of Jamie. This time, despite the minor detour, Louise had managed to make the entire journey in just over ten minutes. She glanced at her watch in amazement as she turned onto the pathway that lead along the side of the house to the front door.
There was a noise coming from behind the brick wall. At first her mind couldn’t distinguish the individual sounds from the images that were playing out inside her head. But as she became more aware of her surroundings, the pictures began to fade, and a more accurate image became apparent.
With the clearing of the trees, Louise could now hear the tinkling sounds of a piano being played from the other side of the wall. She recognised the tune as she had heard her father attempting to play it on numerous occasions before, but never with such fluidity or confidence. She paused for a moment as she approached the front door and listened intently.
He must be playing a CD.
Louise was very familiar with the particular piece that could be heard from the front door as it had been a favourite of her mother’s. If it were her father playing, the total accuracy and tempo of the performance were a complete mystery when considering his aversion to popular music throughout Louise’s childhood.
It was possible that he was listening to a CD, that the music she could hear was in fact being performed by the very man that had first composed the tune. It was certainly being played with a styling in keeping with such a performer. But there was no singing which seemed to confirm the former. She knew from experience that her father had no interest in singing, in fact he refused to sing, whether in private or with an audience.
The music stopped, there was silence. Louise withdrew her key from her pocket and placed it into the lock and turned the mechanism with a little force causing the door to push open.
And from outside, as Reggie watched through the lounge doorway, he saw the flat black shoe of his wife step onto the door mat, attached to her slender leg in dark silk fabric. Valerie stepped into the hallway. Reggie spun around and rose to his feet to greet his wife as she entered the house from the cold outside. 
“Did you have a good walk my dear?”
Valerie looked at Reggie with a puzzled look on her face; her fastened coat all the way to her neck, and red cheeks, she looked cold.
“Come in love, take your coat off, you look freezing.” Reggie took hold of Valerie’s coat as she undid the buttons and slid it from over her shoulders and draped it over an arm.
“You take a seat and I’ll grab you a cup of tea.” He announced as he made his way through the dining room towards the kitchen.
Louise took a seat on the sofa, somewhat surprised by the attentive greeting from her father. He very rarely raised his head when she entered in recent times, let alone taking her coat or offering a cup of tea. She was usually the one offering the hot beverages, even in his house.
Admittedly this was a slightly unusual scenario, it was far earlier in the morning than usual being just after nine. But still, her father’s attentiveness was a complete surprise; he had never shown Louise’s mother the same courtesy during the thirty years they had been married – that she was aware of at least.
From where she perched on the edge of the sofa, Louise heard the click of the kettle, and the clink of mugs being removed from the overhead cupboard and placed onto the hard work surface. She looked down to see the coffee table in pristine condition, a small tidy pile of magazines on one edge.
“Did you want tea? Coffee? Hot chocolate?” Reggie poked his head around the door to see his wife for some reason still with shoes on her feet, perched on the edge of the sofa, as if she were just visiting.
She didn’t answer, just turned her head from staring at the coffee table, to his general direction. Her eyes seemed to look straight through him, as if towards the piano. Maybe she had heard him. Maybe she had figured out the surprise. “You okay my dear?” He walked over towards her, a concerned expression on his face.
Louise remained seated, staring at the sparkling clean polished wood of the coffee table, that for so long had seemed to remain in position with the sole purpose of collecting dust. When Reggie entered the room it took her by surprise, poking his head through the door way. It wasn’t what he said, but how he said it that had surprised her most.
The voice, her father’s voice had never sounded so … musical. She looked past him to the piano that had sat for so many years redundant against the wall. She realised that he had begun to tinker with the instrument, but having just heard him speak, and witnessed his mannerisms, the consideration that it may have been him playing the instrument as opposed to it being a recording became surprisingly believable.
Reggie looked to where his wife’s stare led. Had she figured out the gift? His only option was to cut her off, before she had the opportunity to anticipate what was to happen. Seize the moment with the romantic gesture he had been planning.
Louise’s gaze turned from the piano to Reggie who was now walking over towards her from the doorway. He seemed so cheerful, something she had not seen from him for some time. And yet, as he looked towards her, his eyes seemed glazed as if she could see right though his retinas and into his mind. But what she saw was like paint splattered over a canvass. A field of greens and yellows, with a single golden oak tree stood in the centre amidst the pale blue sky.
Reggie tried to catch the gaze of his wife as he approached her, but he couldn’t manage it. As if the arrows of light that fired from their respective eye sockets were constantly missing one another and firing into the air, to be lost forever in amongst the drifting dust.
 “Dad?” Louise asked, but Reggie didn’t seem to hear her. He just continued to step forward.
Valerie’s hair looked so silky soft as it flowed over her shoulders. Reggie reached his hand forward, his fingers extending towards her golden locks. As the hair brushed against his finger tips, he felt a lightning bolt shoot through his body.
Louise raised herself from the sofa. She didn’t want to cause her father alarm, but as he reached towards her with his open hand, as if in some sort of trance, she knew she would have to wake him. 
Valerie took hold of Reggie’s hand as he reached towards her hair.
“Valerie?” His voice sounded echoed, as if he were speaking inside a deep tunnel.
Valerie kept a firm grip of Reggie’s hand as she looked directly at him.
“Dad, can you hear me?”
“Where did you go? Did you have a nice walk?”
“Dad, it’s me, Louise. Your daughter. Dad!”
“Is it chilly? You look frozen.”
“I’m fine. The news said it may rain later though.”
“Rain? I forgot to put the washing out. No time now, not if it’s going to rain.”
“You did the washing?”
“Put your feet up and I’ll get your cup of tea.”
“No Dad, wait just a second…” It was too late, he disappeared out of the room again; but this time, with Louise in hot pursuit.”
“Dad, I don’t want tea. Dad!” She managed to pace ahead of him as they stepped into the dining room, and blocked his passage to the kitchen. “Stop! I’ve not come for tea.”
Reggie looked at her for a second, “Of course, it’s too early for tea, what was I thinking? Coffee, that’s it coffee. You want coffee?”
This wasn’t her father. He was usually so calm and controlled, and yet here he stood physically shaking from the excess nervous energy. “Who are you talking to Dad?”
Reggie paused, and for the first time looked directly at his daughter. The mist within his eyes cleared, and a look of recognition appeared across his face. Louise couldn’t tell whether it was one of disappointment or relief, but whatever it was caused the compulsive shaking to cease.
“Louise? Sorry my dear, how are you?”
“You OK Dad? You seem really on edge.”
Reggie was puzzled, what reason could have possibly caused him to mistake his twenty five year old daughter with his wife of thirty years?
Thirty years today!
He glanced up at the clock and noted the time. By his estimate, Valerie should be waking soon, though there was something that told him she was already awake. Somewhere deep inside his mind lay a thought that he had been awaiting her return at the front door, and that with the surprise of her sudden and unannounced arrival, he had mistaken Louise for the anticipated return of Valerie.
However, this was impossible; he could clearly recollect the way in which he had carefully slipped out from beneath the bedcovers and crept out of the bedroom, tiptoeing down the stairs in the early hours to get a final practice session in on the piano. Valerie had been beside him, fast asleep, so much so that her snoring had been the cause for him waking in the first place.
It was the disorientation caused by Louise’s unexpected entrance that was inflamed by the breaking of his intense concentration. For some reason, this had temporarily produced an alternative set of circumstances within his mind. It was possible, with his mind focussed on the task at hand, he had heard Louise arriving at the front door; but that only a small part of his mind had been available for processing such data, and as a result, had developed an entirely new reality in order to explain the anomaly that was the approaching footsteps from outside.
Valerie had been in bed when he arrived in the bedroom, and when he awoke hours later, she was still there, he was sure of it. The uneasiness in his mind was as a result of sleep deprivation and an over active imagination.
It had just been a dream hadn’t it? Bernie and Valerie dancing in the kitchen, the fire in the middle of the field, and the sound of the front door shutting at half past five leaving Reggie, in bed, alone.
It had all been a dream!
But if that was true, then who was Reggie trying to convince?
“Dad? You OK?” Louise repeated, noticing that her father had failed to even acknowledge her question.
“Of course my dear.” He paused and his eyes flickered in his head, as if reading through the notes inside his mind, “Breakfast!” He suddenly announced. “That’s what I was doing?”
He stepped around her and walked into the kitchen pouring hot water from the kettle he had boiled earlier and into a mug that was stood by the side. He then reached down into a cupboard and grabbed two bowls, before looking up at Louise. “Did you want any cereal love? Got plenty here.”
“No thanks Dad, I didn’t come round for breakfast, I’ve already…”
Reggie wasn’t listening, he was pouring a quantity of Bran flakes into the bowl, and then scattered a handful of sultanas and raisins over the top. Again, Louise could hear that same song, at first she thought it must be playing on a radio somewhere, or even from outside. But then it became apparent that she could hear the faint whispering of a well known melody much closer to home.
“Dad? Are you singing?” She asked in surprise. She had never actually witnessed her father sing before, and along with his total lack of interest in any genre of music naturally assumed that he was tone deaf.
“What’s that my dear?” He asked as he generously poured milk over the cereal, causing a slight splash over the side of the bowl.
“Singing, you were singing. I’ve never heard that before.” She laughed nervously, but her father seemed to ignore this as he went about returning the milk back to the fridge.
“Singing?” He eventually turned and asked.
“Yes, just now, you were singing.”
“Singing what?”
“You know what, that song Mum used to like. Surely you know what you were singing.”
Reggie smiled at his daughter with the look of amusement he would give to a small child who had just made a crazy, yet somewhat acute observation. Much like when at the age of just six years old, when Louise had declared to her parents that she had no room for anymore breakfast because she wanted to save room in her tummy in case she accidentally swallowed a fly whilst playing outside. Because if she were to do so on a full stomach, it would possibly cause her to pop and burst. 
Reggie lifted a tray, upon which were a mug of steaming hot coffee and bowl of cereal, along with a long, metal spoon. He walked past Louise and out of the kitchen, making his way to the stairs. “Grab yourself something to eat if you like. We’ve got plenty of cereals.”
“Dad you already offered me breakfast.”
But as if he had merely been talking to himself, Reggie walked away with his back to Louise and began to ascend the stairs. As his foot rose above the first step, Louise heard the jingle of the spoon on the bowl as the old man’s arms trembled slightly under the weight of the tray.
“Dad? What are you doing?”
“Just taking this upstairs.”
“To who?”
“Your mother of course, she always says I never do anything romantic.”
“Mum? What do you mean Mum?”
“It’s our Anniversary, what better time than today?”
“But she’s not there.”
“Of course she is, you can hear her snoring.”
The two of them were silent, and sure enough the sound that emanated from upstairs was that of his wife still deep in a heavy sleep.
“Hear what? Dad, I can’t hear a thing.”
“Sure you can, listen.” But as he paused again, there was nothing the sound of Valerie’s snoring had ceased. “She’s probably rolled over. Anyway, I just left her while I came down to make her breakfast.” He looked down at the tray.
“Dad, please let’s not go through this again, why do we keep having to go through this?”
“Shh, keep your voice down she’s still asleep. I wanna surprise her.”
“Nothing is gonna wake her Dad. Please stop.”
“I haven’t got time for this.” Reggie turned away, and started to walk up the stairs.
“She isn’t there, Dad…” There was no answer as she saw his bare feet traipsing up the carpeted stairs. “Listen to me Dad, she isn’t there! Dad!” Louise began shouting angrily at her father.
Reggie had reached the top of the stairs, the large portrait of their wedding day hanging on the wall directly in front of him.
With tears welling up in her eyes, Louise yelled up the stairs, “Dad! She’s not there! She’s dead!”
“Leave me alone!” Reggie stopped, the wedding picture fell from its hook and dropped to the landing, the sound of glass smashing into a thousand pieces with a sickening crash and shattered across the floor.
The front door downstairs slammed shut as Louise stormed out of the house, unable to take any more of her father’s denial. Reggie heard her screaming in anguish, heard her crying hysterically, and then heard her leave. He did nothing; just stood as he was, with breakfast tray balanced on his hands facing the remaining stairs.
And then the stairs dropped from beneath his feet and Reggie fell to the ground in darkness.
When he opened his eyes, he found himself lying face down in a cold, dark corridor. Ahead was a faint light that appeared to be some sort of door way. Reggie’s knees felt bruised, there was a splitting pain across his face, a contradictory sensation of hot and cold shooting through his nose and into his brain.
Reggie crawled forwards, pulling his body towards the light. He found the energy to rise to his feet, and pushed against the heavy wooden door that blocked his progress. The next minute, he was stood in his bedroom, looking over the bed.
Had there been an earthquake? To say the bedroom was a mess, would be an understatement. The bright light that had been shining in through the break in the curtains was no more. The carpet beneath his feet was a faded shade of cream, spots of mud had been ground into the fabric and speckled the floor between the sporadic spread of dirty clothes that littered the bedroom.
All of a sudden Reggie felt years of exhaustion hit him in one go, like a spectre invading his body, he fell to his knees unable to carry the weight of the situation on his old, tired legs.
“Reggie?!”
It was Valerie. The voice had come from downstairs. Suddenly his energy returned to him, as if rejuvenated by the mere sound of his wife. Reggie rose to his feet, and ran down the stairs to meet his wife. In the lounge he saw her. Looking as beautiful and elegant as she had done so when they first met all those years ago, it nearly took his breath away.
“Happy Anniversary Reginald.” She smiled, the entire room shone as if a thousand candles had been lit around the entire circumference. The air felt lighter and fresher, even the carpet felt softer on his feet.
Reggie didn’t quite know what to say. For so long he had been the dominant one in the relationship, and yet now he felt like a teenager gazing in awe at the glamorous Marilyn Monroe. 
“Well? Have you got something for me?”
He looked across to the piano, positioned against the side wall.
“Go on Reggie, play for me.”
“How did you know?”
“Shh.” She placed her finger against her lips and walked over to him. “Play for me.”
Reggie pulled the stool out and slid his backside over the fabric. He situated himself at the very centre of the stool and just gazed over the wood cover that hid the keyboard from the world.
“Where did you go?” Reggie asked.
“For a walk.”
“But you’re back now?”
“Looks like it.”
“And you’re not going back out are you? It’s going to rain later, and you hate the rain.”
“Play me something Reggie.” She stood behind him, and tenderly placed her hands on his shoulders. She was so close, he could feel her breath on his neck, and smell her intoxicating perfume.
And that was when he raised the keyboard cover, revealing the row of keys that shone in the candle light. His mind went blank, he looked along the never ending row of musical notes. It was like looking through the trees of a forest, not knowing which is which. Right now, Reggie felt lost, sat before an array of keys that meant nothing to him.
“Play for me my darling. Like I’ve always longed for you to do.”
The cool air breezed around his neck, and swirled across his chest. And suddenly the piano came into focus. The thousand indistinguishable keys that sat before him reduced to eighty eight very recognisable ones.
The room was still. Reggie could feel his heart pounding, his fingers hovering over the keys; he gazed up at the music sheet in front of him. Of course, by now he had committed every note, every detail to memory, but in between the lines of the stave he saw a smile.
“This one’s for you baby.” He announced to his wife, now perched on the edge of the stool beside him, gently stroking his arm with her fingertips. Her breath chilled the hairs on the side of his neck, as she leaned over to him and her lips pressed against his skin softy.
Reggie shook, could he do it? The last week had been building up to this moment, and though there was nobody else, just he and Valerie, he was still nervous. But the warmth of her breath on his neck, and her gentle touch eased the pain that had been draining his energy.
His fingers rose, and with a deep breath he commenced with the introduction, flowing through the bars as smoothly as he had ever managed before in the depths of the old oak tree.
 
“It’s a little bit funny, this feeling inside.”
 
The words seemed to flow from his lips as if they were being sung by somebody else, suddenly he didn’t feel like he was singing at all, but rather sat on the chair beside his wife holding her close to him, feeling her warm skin against his. He could feel the music flowing through his very soul, like a cool breeze cleansing him and causing him to cling tighter to his wife in the hope she would do the same. Valerie duly obliged.
They were sat naked, on the top of a mountain, overlooking the entire world, the oceans and hills of the Earth lay at their feet spinning, and yet still the music played and still Reggie clung to his wife as he felt the air from the world swirling around them both and encapsulating them within a cocoon.
Valerie’s skin looked younger, the wrinkles beneath her eyes and around her cheeks had diminished, and Reggie saw her as the beautiful young woman that he had first fell in love with, all those years ago. He smiled at her, and she returned the affection.
There was silence all around them that served to accentuate the sound of Valerie’s heart beating hard against Reggie’s chest. And then she spoke, being the first to break the silence, her words were soft and warm, “We are here, at the top of the world, for one last song.”
“I recognise that voice.” It all came flooding back to him, the frequent conflicts inside his head, the continuous voices talking side by side. It hadn’t been Bernie after all, but Valerie his wife. How could he have possibly confused them? “That was you?”
“Oh no my darling that was all you, searching for me. But you could never find me until you found your own voice.”
“But how?”
“By opening your heart and soul. By allowing me access to what you never would whilst I was alive.”
“And the voices?”
“We all have our own ways of interpreting what we are not ready to understand. You, my love were involved in a constant battle to find yourself, which released itself by way of your voices. It was never me nor Bernie, not really, but it was what you needed to believe to get to the point we are now.”
“But one of those was your voice, I can hear it now.”
“It was never my voice, it was what you wanted it to be, your interpretation, but it never was actually me.”
“Then how is it you now?”
“Because it is now no longer about what you wanting it to be. My darling, all that we want changes in time, and to that end we will never truly find our own desires inside ourselves unless we focus not on what we want, but open ourselves up to what we can’t do without.”
“But that’s you.”
“And that is why I am here now with you. Thank you for opening your heart to me, now we can both finally be free.”
“But I don’t want to be free, I can’t live without you.” A cold stream of tears were dripping down Reggie’s cheeks, “I don’t want to lose you. I can’t!”
“It’s not a case of winning or losing, but of freeing yourself from the shackles that stopped you from being you for so many years. I will always be here for you. And now you have found me, you’ll always know where to look.”
“You talk as if you’re leaving me.”
“My dear, you must know by now.”
“Know what?”
“I can’t leave until you let me go.”
“But I don’t want to. I can’t” Reggie clasped hold of his wife tightly, refusing to accept the notions that were starting to break through the inner most confines of his mind; trying to hold back the images that were starting to appear within his consciousness.
“This isn’t me Reggie, not the Valerie you fell in love with. That Valerie passed away. I’m sorry but nothing can change that.” She tried to push him away, but with every word his grip got tighter.
“No, it can’t be. I can feel you. I can touch you! I can smell you!” Reggie pulled away slightly and took a deep breath inhaling the scent of his wife from the top of her head.
“Are you sure?” Valerie asked, “Time to be honest. What do I smell like?”
“Beautiful.” He said, and pressed his nose into her hair, tears dripping down his cheeks and onto her.
“Like what?” she repeated.
“Like?” Reggie took another deep breath, but he couldn’t explain it. There was a smell, but he couldn’t recognise it. And then he saw her. Eyes closed, lying flat on her back. The wooden casket with the top lid open and a queue of people crying into their hands.
She looked so peaceful; her soft, delicate skin shone in the candlelight. Reggie leaned forward and his lips kissed her forehead.
“It’s time to say goodbye.” Valerie spoke, and they were once again sat together on the mountain top.
“Is this the last time I will ever hold you?”
“In this world yes, but I will be waiting for you.”
The two separated out. Reggie was now shivering from the cold, his naked body was blue and his skin felt brittle. He looked deep into his wife’s eyes, within the depths of her pupils to see a fire burning brightly. And then with a passion he had never felt before, Reggie grabbed hold of Valerie pulled her body close to his and a flame burst through his chest and into his heart, heating the blood that poured around his veins.
 
“I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind, that I put down in the words.”
“How wonderful life is, now you’re in the world.”
 
It was the one sentiment he had wanted to express to his wife for so many years, and now, finally he had managed to do so with his very soul. Reggie felt himself complete the final bar of the song and then sat in silence.
“That was beautiful.” Came the voice sat beside him. They were now sat once more in the lounge; perched on the stool with the piano in front of them.
Reggie rested his hands over the keyboard as he felt his heart pounding furiously in his chest, sweat poured from his head, but there was a sense of relief that seemed to be flowing around his body like oxygen. He then felt the gentle touch of his wife’s tender kiss on his cheek and with the wind she disappeared from view, leaving Reginald Dudgeon sat alone.
There was a sense of release that rose from Reggie’s shoulders as he watched a small wisp of cloud drift out of the room into the hallway. Like a small child chasing a butterfly, he rose from his seat and stepped out into the hallway, and then through to the kitchen to witness the small insect fluttering out of the window and disappear into the sky. It was with a heavy heart, that Reggie stepped out of the house into his garden, and watched the released spirit of his wife drift away into the heavens.
But there was something missing in Reggie’s mind, something that could only be answered by one person. He knew there was only one way of reaching that particular individual, and more importantly finally felt ready to open that final door.
Reggie shut the hallway door as he entered the room, and then drew the curtains shut. The only light that now presented itself within the room was through a slight crack in the curtains. And using that light, he strolled around the coffee table and sat himself in the centre of the sofa.
“Bernie?”
Did he say it? Or had he just thought it? When you open up communications in solitude, who’s to know whether the method you chose was the reverberation of sound waves or those extenuating from the brain?
Reggie shut his eyes and pictured the old oak tree in the centre of the empty field. Although he felt as though he had full control of his mind, he found the image of the tree very different to previous occasions. The leaves were all gone, and the naked branches were left hanging in the still air.
No matter how hard he shut his eyes, or pressured his mind he couldn’t recreate the leaves, the branches remained looking lifeless and limp.
“Bernie?”
There was a sudden breeze that swept across the field, shaking the branches, and then a faint crack of light appeared in the centre of the trunk. Reggie walked across the field and pushed at the door which had revealed itself in the tree, and bravely, he walked in.

To be continued...
Track 10 - The King Must Die