God. How big is this house? At any rate, I bet we must have gone through twenty different corridors and climbed up and down at least three staircases. Apparently there wasn’t a direct flight of steps to the ground floor (we were on the third) where the music room was and so we had to first descend the first floor…when Mrs. Carpenter all of a sudden realized she had left her diary in the morning room…which was ‘conveniently’ (not) on the second floor. So up again we went. After fifteen minutes of bustling up and down we finally arrived at the music room and there we were, panting outside its enormous doors.

I could hear the piano being played lightly and recognized the song as “Ode to Joy”. I used to play it as a child and upon hearing the song again, I found myself whisked down memory lane. Ice-cream on Friday evenings by the beachside, me holding my mom’s hand…..playing tag in the school grounds…..Mort leaving us behind…me leaning on the counter at my mother’s hat shop…walking Pasha, our golden retriever in the park…me nearly throwing up on my first public speaking assignment…being called a ‘beanpole’ by Lisa and her size 2 cronies…..my best friend Nina moving all the way to Japan…me moving to a new school three thousand miles away…eating my first lunch in the staff bathroom…and Nick…smooching that new redhead in the parking lot after school…the day he asked me out…

“Miss Howard?”

I blinked twice and perceived a concerned looking Mrs. Carpenter boring holes in my face with her shrewd eyes.

“Are you quite well?”

For a second or two, my tongue lay motionless.

“Um yes, I’m fine. I’ve never been in uh…better spirits! It’s just that I used to play this song as a child and it made me remember my hometown.”

“And where is that?” asked the little old lady curiously.

“Cali-I mean…uh..Edinburgh.” Phew, that was close.

“All the way in Scotland! My, no wonder you still look worn out by your long travels. Where about in Edinburgh? I have a cousin living there.”

“Oh..um..it’s a small village so I don’t think you’d know it.” I said, fumbling about with my gown.

“I daresay I know Edinburgh quite well. I visit Bertha every year, you know.” Mrs. Carpenter sure did know a thing or two about getting her way.

“It’s called..uh..” Oh God. How did I even get myself into this mess??? I look about the corridor and see a painting next to the music room...it’s quite close to me and I can read the artist’s signature painted in the bottom corner…by Cornelius Pettigrew......”Um, It’s called Petti-grove.” I say trying to act nonchalant.

“Pettigrove?” The old lady chirped in wonder and fixed her blue orbs on my face.

“Uh,yes, like I mentioned, it isn’t highly populated and I’m sure the village has many names to it…I mean many people might call it what they want…but um I’ve always called it Pettigrove.” What is wrong with you Jean? Stop it. Stop it this instance.

“Pettigrove…” she repeated the word again as if she couldn’t believe her own ears, sharp as they were.

“Well, since I’m writing to my cousin, I should mention it, maybe she who’s lived in Scotland all her life, would know……well, now let me introduce you to our little Gina.”

Thank God that was the end of that.

Mrs. Carpenter rapped on the doors lightly, paused, and pushed them open, gesturing for me to follow.

Breathtaking is not the word to describe the music room. I must have stood at the doorway like a gaping fool as my eyes glided over the room. Cherubs swirled in their painted skies, some strumming harps, others hiding shyly behind tufts of white cloud. Carpets of flowery gold stumbled from where I stood to all corners of the circular room. From the center of the ceiling hung a majestic chandelier…its crystals glistened in the sunlight which entered the room through the wide, floor length windows which ran from one corner of the room, all the way to the other, exposing a magnificently manicured garden…complete with gravel walk and maze. Presently, Mrs. Carpenter cleared her throat and I was obliged to enter the heavenly room.

I threaded lightly across the floor, afraid that if I stepped too hard, this dream would disappear.

As I approached the pianoforte (which stood right under the chandelier), I saw a little girl- Gina or Georgina I assumed- standing next to Mrs. Carpenter. She was covering her eyes with both hands and a giggle escaped her lips now and then.

“Can I see yet?” she asked in a voice full of impatience.

Her long caramel coloured hair was neatly combed into two plaits and her chubby face was framed with curls. She wore a cotton lilac dress and a pair of lavender boots to match. She giggled again and begged to open her eyes.

“Well….oh alright, a peek wouldn’t hurt.”

Georgina took her hands off and her brilliant blue eyes darted across the room. When they fell upon me, a smile of warmth broke on her face.

“Hello Georgina,” I said, meeting Mrs. Carpenter’s eyes. She nodded for me to go on.

“I’m your new music teacher, Jean Howard-”

Before I could finish, the little girl was in fits of laughter.

“Oh Mrs. Carpenter, how good and naughty it was in you!!” Running forward to meet me, she looked down and curtseyed.

“Nice to meet you Miss Howard.”

“Nice to meet you too Georgina.”

Mrs. Carpenter walked towards us and exclaimed,

“Well now since the both of you are sufficiently acquainted for lessons to begin, I shall leave you two to your study. Luncheon will be served at three. You’ll be dining with me, Miss Howard.”

The housekeeper closed the doors gently behind her and I turned around to face my pupil.

How should I start??? What should I say?? I was bothering myself with these questions for a few minutes while I fingered through one of Georgina’s music books. A little while later, I learnt that I needn’t have worried at all.

All of a sudden, my charge exclaimed stoutly, “When I grow up, I wish to be a great pianist! Like Beethoven! And I shall compose great symphonies played all over England!”

“Well then Georgina,” I said, closing her songbook, “If that is your goal, you will have to work very hard and practice whenever you can. Come, let us not idle any longer; let me hear you play this song.” I flipped through the pages of her music book, turned to “The Arrival of Queen Sheba” and placed it on the ledge.

She began the song beautifully. Clearly the girl was talented for her age. The music seemed to make the room come alive once again. I paced near the wide glass windows and looked outside. In the middle of the garden burst forth a fountain. Carved fish leaped through pockets in the gushing water. Bushes spotted with pink flowers grew around the fountain, enclosing it in a neat circle. I longed to be out there that very moment. I wanted to get lost in that maze. My eyes fluttered across the green meadows in the distance and I spotted something. It was moving towards the manor….nearer and nearer it drew. Now I could hear it too. All of a sudden, the piano playing stopped and Georgina ran to the window.

“Sir Kent is here! Sir Kent is here! I must go and see what he has got for me!” the little girl squealed with excitement. The port chaise stopped near the entrance of the house and a tall, rather lanky man was helped out. He wore a cloak and a tall hat. I could not make out his face.

“Oh please Miss Howard??? Can I go greet Uncle Kent?”

Was I supposed to let her go? But then I received strict instructions from Mrs. Carpenter that a break could only be given after three hours of practice. Maybe his arrival would make today an exception.

I looked down at an anxious Georgina and let out a sigh,

“Alright, you may leave, but,- Georgina, wait!” She had already reached the door and hesitatingly walked back. “But you can spend no more than half an hour.”

“Thank you Miss Howard!” The little girl embraced me and in a wink, she was gone.