Imperfect Harmony (6 page)

“I’m so glad. It’s good to see you out of the house, doing something you enjoy.” She paused for a moment before adding, “It’s about time you let yourself live again, John.”

John didn’t reply, and Maggie didn’t press. The words David had said in his dream last week pushed themselves to the forefront of John’s mind, as clearly as if they were being spoken aloud.

You have to go on without me
.

It was the same message he kept hearing. From the counsellor he’d seen for a while after David’s death, from his mum before she died, from Maggie, and now from David himself—or John’s own subconscious, depending on how you looked at it.

Maybe it
was
time for him to move on. The trouble was, he wasn’t sure he knew how.

When they arrived at the hall, Rhys greeted them with a wide smile. “Hi.” His gaze lingered on John.

John’s cheeks heated in response as he stared back, pinned by the clear blue of Rhys’s eyes. “Hi.”

“Hello, Rhys.” Maggie signed in first and put her money in the box, and John went after, relieved to have the distraction of something else to focus on. Rhys made him feel clumsy and awkward, as if he didn’t know where to look or what to do with his hands. He remembered feeling like that around David in the early days. He would have hoped twenty-two years of living would have made him smoother around someone he was attracted to, but apparently not. He needed to get over this stupid crush he had on Rhys, before he made a fool of himself.

As always, John couldn’t look away from Rhys throughout the evening. At least he was supposed to watch Rhys during choir practice, otherwise he’d feel creepy for staring. But Rhys demanded their full attention with every sway of his body, every click of his fingers, and every subtle gesture of his hands. He coaxed the music out of them, polishing the sound with subtle adjustments of volume and tempo. It was a form of alchemy, turning the raw sound of their untrained voices into something beautiful.

John’s tension dropped away as he sang, leaving him light and refreshed. Even his headache finally lifted, chased away by euphoria and a smile on his lips instead of the frown that had weighed on his brow all day.

At the end of the session, Maggie was chatting to one of the other altos as the group started to disperse. John didn’t want to hurry her, so after helping stack some chairs, he waited at the side of the room.

Rhys approached John with his hands in his pockets and a hopeful look on his face. “I know this might be a long shot, and please don’t feel you have to say yes, but I need a pianist, and I was hoping you might be prepared to give it a try.”

“I don’t know….” Anxiety clutched at John’s chest as he thought about playing. He hadn’t tried again since last week, even though the lid of the piano was standing open at home, like a possibility. Part of him longed to play, but he still feared the emotions it might stir up. “What’s it for?”

“Well… I do a little session at Beech House—the old folks’ home—every Saturday afternoon. I play the guitar and sing, but some of the older songs they like would work better with a piano accompaniment. There’s this lady who always asks me to play the piano instead, but I’m not much good on a keyboard. I just wondered whether you’d consider it, if you needed an incentive to start playing again.”

John took a deep breath, heart thudding hard. Rhys’s blue gaze was steady and kind.

“It wouldn’t be anything too challenging if you’re worried about being rusty,” Rhys continued. “Old singalong favourites, that sort of thing. I have a couple of books of stuff that would be perfect. Maybe you could borrow them and see what you think?”

“Okay,” John said. Rhys’s face lit up and John qualified quickly. “I mean… I’ll take the books and have a look, then think about it, if that’s all right?”

“Sure. How about I drop them round to you tomorrow, and you can let me know next week. There’s no rush.”

“Yes, that sounds good.”

“What’s your address, and when’s a good time to bring them round? They won’t fit through the letterbox.”

“Fifteen Applewood Road, and I should be home after five.”

Rhys typed John’s address into his phone, and then looked up with a grin. “Okay, awesome. I’ll bring them round then.”

“What are you two plotting?” Maggie’s voice made them turn, and John realised they were the last ones there again.

“I’m just going to lend John some books,” Rhys said lightly.

John was grateful he didn’t explain what type of books. He knew Maggie would be like a dog with a bone if she thought John was considering playing again. He knew her pushing came from a place of concern, but too much pressure made him want to dig his heels in rather than comply.

Maggie glanced between them, a slightly suspicious expression on her face, but she let it drop.

“Your chariot awaits.” John waved his arm grandly towards the door.

Maggie chuckled. “Thank you, kind sir. Goodnight, Rhys. Thanks for another lovely session.”

“Bye.”

Thankfully, Thursday was a lot less stressful than Wednesday. John was back in the Grove School, the local secondary where the kids knew him. Most of the classes he covered were relatively easy to control. He was able to leave school at the same time as the kids did and was home by four. One of the advantages of being a supply teacher was no marking or planning, but he was starting to miss the satisfaction of actual teaching. Covering lessons for other, absent teachers was all about crowd control and had little to do with education.

When David died, for months after, John had been signed off from his job as a music teacher. Lost in a deep pit of grief, compounded by depression and anxiety, he’d been unable to handle a job that reminded him too much of what he’d lost.

After a year of medication and therapy, John had slowly crawled his way back to a place where he could function, but he still couldn’t face teaching music. So he’d resigned from his permanent job and started working as a supply teacher. It was a thankless job, particularly in many of the troubled city schools he was sent to, but it paid the bills and allowed him to mostly avoid music. He got through the days, and that was all that mattered to him.

When his mum became ill, he’d returned home to Lambury to care for her. It had been easy to get teaching work there too. Lambury had a large secondary school, and several others in neighbouring towns were close enough to be convenient. There was always a need for supply teachers, so most weeks John worked the full five days. Since he’d inherited the house from his mum and had no rent to pay, he earned more than enough to cover his bills, but he preferred to keep busy. Even though the job was stressful and unrewarding, it stopped him from having too much time in his own head. John’s head wasn’t a happy place, so he was glad of the distraction.

He let himself in to the house after work, and changed out of his work clothes while he waited for the kettle to boil. With a cup of tea in his hand, he sat at the kitchen table and went back to the crossword from the Sunday paper, which he’d been working on all week. Lost in the clues and trying to find the solutions, he was dragged back to reality when the doorbell rang and he realised an hour had passed.

He opened the door to find Rhys on the doorstep, with a bouncy Starry on a lead and a carrier bag in his other hand.

“Hi,” Rhys said. Starry launched herself at John, jumping up onto her hind legs. “Starry, no!”

“Hi.” John pushed Starry down onto all fours, but crouched to pet her. “Hey Starry, good to see you too, girl.” He looked up at Rhys and grinned. “That was quite a greeting.”

Starry was sniffing him and making excited little whines.

“I think she’s hoping to see Billy again,” Rhys said.

“I’m sorry, Starry. You’re out of luck. Maybe on Saturday morning, though. If you fancy a morning walk again?” He looked questioningly at Rhys. “Maggie’s managing to walk him again some of the time now, but I’m sure he’d enjoy a longer walk, so I could borrow him.”

Rhys smiled. “It could be arranged if I set my alarm. I’m not normally out that early.”

“Oh no. You don’t have to….”

“It’s okay. I enjoyed it, and Starry liked the company too. I’ll meet you there at nine.”

John straightened up, rubbing his palms on his jeans. “Did you, um, want to come in? Have a cup of tea or something?”

“No thanks. Starry wants to walk, as you can see.” Starry was tugging at the lead impatiently now. “But thanks for the offer. Here.” He gave John the carrier bag. “I’ll see you Saturday morning, then?”

“Okay. It’s a date.” John smiled and then flushed right up to the tips of his ears when he realised what he’d said.

Rhys didn’t seem to notice or care. “Cheers, then. I hope you like the music. You can tell me what you think on Saturday.”

“Will do. Bye.”

John closed the door and stood for a moment with the carrier bag clutched to his chest and a stupid grin on his face. He looked down at the bag. There was no time like the present.

Once he was sitting at the piano, John pulled Rhys’s books out of the bag. They were well used, their corners scuffed and ragged. One was a
Songs of the Sixties
compilation, the other an eclectic mixture of popular, folk, and some old music hall songs that had simple-looking piano accompaniments.

John started with
Songs of the Sixties
. He didn’t allow himself to think too hard about what he was doing, but he consciously chose the more upbeat, cheerful songs and skipped over the ones that might tug at his heartstrings too much. Then he moved on to some of the songs in the second book.

Just as Rhys had said, playing the piano was like riding a bicycle. The more he played, the more familiar it became. His fingers, hesitant at first, were soon flying over the keys, the muscle memory bypassing his conscious brain. When John finally stopped playing, he was smiling, exhilarated and happy. He could do this, and what was more, for the first time in two years, he wanted to.

CHAPTER SIX

Rhys set his alarm for eight on Saturday morning, hoping it would be dry. He’d checked with his mum the night before, and she was happy for him to take Starry for her morning walk. Although she looked a little bemused by Rhys’s sudden enthusiasm, she hadn’t asked him why. Rhys was glad. He wasn’t sure how to explain the nature of his relationship with John; he didn’t really understand it himself yet. The friendship was too new, too tentative to withstand detailed analysis. Rhys was just happy that John seemed to want to spend time with him too.

Starry was thrilled to see Rhys when he popped next door to pick her up. His mum was already up and about, sitting on the sofa, with a cup of coffee and her iPad.

“Morning, darling,” she said.

“Hi, Mum.” He crossed the room and stooped to give her his usual kiss on the cheek. She smelled familiar and comforting: her usual shampoo and the faintest trace of perfume. “Come on then, Starry, time for
walkies
!” He said it with the exact intonation he knew would drive her crazy. “Get your lead. Go on.” She bounded off, wagging her tail, and returned with the lead in her mouth, looking pleased with herself.

“Okay, see you later,” Rhys said once Starry was ready to go.

“Have a nice walk.”

It wasn’t quite such a beautiful morning as last weekend. The sky was grey rather than clear blue, but it was dry and mild. By the time Rhys reached the playing fields, he was sweating inside his padded coat and had to take his hat off and put it in his pocket. There was no sign of John yet, so he let Starry off the lead and started to walk the path around the edge of the fields, heading towards the woods. As he walked, he noticed the delicate white bells of snowdrops where they’d pushed up through the earth and bloomed.

Rhys’s heart lifted at the sight. Spring was coming.

The sound of excited barking caught his attention and he turned to see Billy and Starry sniffing each other and wagging their tails, before tearing off in a game of overexcited chase. He looked back along the path, and there was John walking purposefully towards him. Rhys raised his hand in greeting and John waved back. Rhys tried to ignore the nervous little flip in his belly, squashing it down with reason.

He’s just a friend
, he told himself.
Nothing more
.

“Morning,” Rhys called when John was within earshot.

“Hi.”

The smile on John’s face did nothing to calm Rhys’s nervous excitement. Something about John drew him in, made him want to burrow past John’s shyness and reserve.

“How are you?” Rhys asked.

“Good, thanks.”

John reached him and paused, arm’s length away. Rhys wished he had an excuse for a greeting that involved physical contact—a hug, or just a handshake. Instead they stood staring at each other, smiling for a moment before John turned away to look at the dogs where they were play-fighting over a stick.

“Billy’s happy to see his friend,” John said.

“He’s not the only one.” Rhys suppressed a wry smile at the double-layered truth in his words. “Starry too. Do you want to walk, or sit and let the dogs wear each other out?”

“I could do with some exercise,” John said. “I’m on my feet a lot of the day during the week, but that doesn’t really count. How about we do a loop through the woods? Then, if Billy and Starry are still going strong afterwards, we can sit and let them run about a bit more.”

“Okay.” Rhys raised his voice. “Starry, come on. We’re going this way!”

She raised her head at the sound and then ran towards him, with Billy hot on her heels. He couldn’t quite keep up with his shorter legs, but he did his best.

“So, what do you do?” Rhys asked as they made their way towards the trees.

“I’m a supply teacher—secondary.”

“Wow. Rather you than me. Sorry,” he added as John chuckled. “I just remember what we used to be like in lessons with substitute teachers. It can’t be much fun being on the receiving end of that.”

“Yes, well, it pays the bills. I used to teach music… but after I had some time off, I ended up doing supply, and it’s convenient for now. I might look for something more permanent again, eventually.”