Scarlet Ivory
A bittersweet tune filled the room, pouring out a little of her anxiety, and a little of her soul.
Her fingers danced wildly across the ivory keys. She could feel somebody’s short breaths against the back of her neck; hear their whispers winding their way into her ears. She waited, breathless, for the moment that the hand she knew was reaching out towards her would touch her, violate her. She longed more than nothing to move but she was frozen, her head lulling slightly to the side but her eyes darting wildly across the keys, following the fairy dance of her fingers. She had never played so well before.
She had never been so afraid before.
It was funny, how fate swung so easily, a tilted pendulum suspended from a great height. She had woken up with her pulse beating almost as swiftly as it was beating now, with nerves eating away at her stomach, her chest, sending waves of insecurity through her body, tensing her muscles, shortening her breath.
This was how it always was before an exam.
She had asked for one at a late time – she had thought that it would be better to do it in the evening than in the morning, but she later came to regret her choice. It left more time for nervous – no, not nervous, terrified – anticipation, more time for the nerves to eat their way into the marrow of her bones and to make themselves at home. By the time they found themselves walking towards the centre, the sky had become a gradually deepening velvet blue, and her legs were so weak and shaky that she felt she might collapse.
Her mother’s hand found its way on to her tensed shoulder. She started a little, throwing her mother an anxious glance.
“Are you sure you’re alright, Tasha?” her mother asked. “I didn’t realise it was even possible to get an exam time this late. It’s just bad luck that you couldn’t have done it in the morning.
Tasha tried to take a deep breath but it snagged in her throat. She swallowed the saliva suddenly filling her otherwise dry mouth but it quickly began to fill up again. She shook her head, closing her eyes very slightly.
“Oh, Tasha. You always did let nerves get the better of you.”
They entered the centre. It took all the strength Tasha could muster to keep the door wide open and walk in, head held high, eyes half closed because she felt unable to face the stress ahead. One hand found its way into the other, and she anxiously played with her fingernails, trying to dampen her nerves. It would be fine. She would walk into the room, she would play better than she ever had done before, and then she would walk out feeling all the stronger for it. All would be fine.
They stood in front of the counter as the receptionist found their names on a checklist. There was nobody else in the centre. The silence found its way into Tasha’s mind and she tried to push it away frantically. Any sound, any noise would have been welcome. She longed to break the silence but she couldn’t find the right words to say.
Instead, she stared out of the window at the glistening moon and the midnight blue sky. She counted the stars, but soon lost count. Seventeen. That was the number of notice boards carefully arranged around the massive waiting room. Five. That was the number of people inside the waiting room, much too small a number to fill it up. Her mother and father sat side by side on the worn blue chairs, her brother, Tony, furthest away from her. She gave him an apologetic glance and he averted his eyes, dejected. She remembered the way she had snapped at him when she had found out he would be coming and felt another emotion join the anxiety – guilt.
Were all examiners the same? A stately, tall man with silvery-white hair, dressed in a dark suit, came forward into the room, smiling at them all. Tasha stood up but he shook his head.
“It’s not quite time for your exam yet,” he said, and his voice echoed through the room. “I’ve come to ask whether you’d like to practise a little on our piano first.”
“Yes, please,” Tasha said.
The examiner’s glance moved away from Tasha and towards Tony. “Would you like to have a go on a piano too, young lad?”
His eyes lit up. He nodded swiftly, and the examiner smiled. “Very well.”
He led them out through the corridor and Tasha could only throw her parents one last helpless glance. Eventually Tony was shown into one room and she into another. This room was also enormous. When the examiner stepped out of the room and gently pulled the door to, she found herself completely and utterly alone. The piano, so inviting yet equally terrifying, spread out in front of her, a masterpiece of coal black and ivory white keys.
Just play, she thought to herself. Forget that you’re nervous. Forget that you’re here. Just play.
Her hand crept out towards the piano, and gently pressed down the note. It rang out with a sound so loud that she drew back her hand immediately. Then, after sparing a quick glance around the room, she placed both hands on the keys and began to play.
“Miss?”
She placed her fingers on the wrong keys. The sound, off as it was, rang through the room, accompanied by her sharp intake of breath. She started and turned around, finally realising how much time had passed.
There was the examiner, a black clipboard held to his chest, his silvery hair immaculately combed. Not a hair, not a thread was out of place.
“It’s time for your exam,” he informed her, and she felt his oddly questioning gaze sweep over her. She stood up, and found that her knees were once again weak. Butterflies plagued her stomach, and she found each breath harder to draw in.
She tried to breathe deeply, to ease the tightness of her chest. The examiner led her into the exam room, and it was even larger and grander than the first, lit up by the rich yellow light of the chandeleir above them. He ushered her in, and she headed for the grand piano at the end of the room. The first one had been but a pale imitation of this one – yet this one didn’t feel quite so inviting, simply even more intimidating.
Then she remembered how wonderful it felt to lose yourself in the rhythm and melody and she felt a sudden, welcome calm coming over her. She went over to the stool and she smiled gently at the piano. At the other end of the room, she heard the examiner closing the door. And … was that the click of a latch?
She glanced over at him nervously. He was already halfway across the room to his desk. When he saw her looking, he gave her a brief, disconcerting smile. “Is there a problem?” he asked in a genuine tone.
She shook her head, trying to clear her mind. “No. Of course not.”
“Shall we start with the scales, then?”
“Okay.” She swallowed.
“If I could have B flat minor …”
The keys blurred before her eyes. She stretched out her hands to reach for them but they were shaking. When she pressed her fingers to the keys, they seemed to dance away from her. She had no control over them. One wrong note. Two wrong notes … her heart was pounding in her head. She tried to breathe. Just breathe. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Could I start again?”
He peered at her over the top of his paperwork. “Go ahead.”
Why did her fingers have to be so non-compliant today of all days? They danced away from her again. She fought the note down but it did not sound. She drew her hand back from the piano as if it was on fire and scalding her, staring at it wildly. She felt as if she was in a dream. The nerves were one thing, but this was another. She didn’t feel right. There was nothing right about this.
The examiner sighed, and she felt a hot, horrible wave of shame weaving its way through her.
“Look, do you need a little help?” the examiner asked. She simply stared.
“Surely … surely you can’t help me – can you?”
“I asked you if you needed help,” he said dryly.
Slowly, cautiously, she nodded.
She didn’t know what she expected. She thought that at any moment she would feel the examiner’s hands on top of hers, teasing them into the appropriate positions, pushing her towards playing the right scales. Nothing felt right. She heard his footsteps approaching and hastily looked down at the keys. She felt his breath on the back of her neck.
He never touched her, not once. Instead, his mouth close to her ear, he leaned down and whispered, “Play.”
That was when her fingers took on a life of their own.
***
But the sound of the piano was not right, either. It was beautiful but deadly. Grand but dark and sombre. The melody was more wonderful than anything she had ever been able to replicate before, but it was not her own. She was trapped, so trapped, her eyes darting wildly from key to key, her heartbeat fluttering like a trapped butterfly, her vision unclear as a foggy morning.
“Please …” she whispered over the melody. “Please …please stop this.”
It was then that she felt his hands. They started at the lower end of her back and pushed their way upwards, gently caressing her skin until they rested on her shoulders. It was only then that she felt the spell break, and that she sprang away from him as swiftly as prey from an approaching predator. She stood there, breathing fast, looking at him. She felt that if she blinked, he would attack.
He didn’t. Instead he gazed at her with that curious, searching look, his head tilted slightly to the side. And when he spoke, his tone was as rich and deadly as that of the melody she had been playing only moments ago.
“Do you dance, Tasha?”
They stood still, regarding each other, her chest rising and falling frantically, her entire body poised to run. His wasn’t poised to pounce, simply to curiously regard his victim from a suitable distance.
Cats liked to play with their food before eating it.
“No,” she said. “I don’t. Please … please could you let me go? I don’t think I’m ready for this exam.” But she knew that it was of no use. The door was locked and latched. She had heard him lock it. Her words sounded unconvincing even to her own ears, over the pounding beat of her terrified heart, so she knew that they must sound unconvincing to him.
“Yes,” he said.
“Yes what?” she asked warily.
“I can let you go.”
She breathed a sigh of immense relief. The oxygen flowed through her veins and warmed her, revived her. Her vision cleared and she felt immediately stronger and more capable. But what he said next was enough to make her nearly collapse onto the cold, hard, wooden floor, enough to whip every last molecule of her remaining breath away from her.
“You can go – but you will be going alone. Surely you don’t want to go without your family?” He cocked his head at her again, unsmilingly.
She clutched onto the piano and fought for breath. Oh God, please don’t let this be happening. Please. Please. I’m dreaming; this is a nightmare.“Where are my parents?”
“They have gone home.”
Did she believe him? If she did, then it was all okay. Unless …
“Wait,” she asked, frantically. “Where’s Tony?” Where’s Tony – Oh God, where is he?
He took a few moments to speak. Eventually, “Inside the thing you feared the most when you first entered this room.”
It took her a few moments to understand. Then understanding rushed through her. Like the melody, it was bittersweet.
She looked towards the piano, and her eyes were wide with fear. Tony … the last thing she had said to him had been an angry, snide remark. The last look he had given her had been completely and utterly dejected.
Oh, Tony …
Her knees shook. Her breath trembled inside her lungs. Her fingernails reached, groping, for the edges of the lid of the grand piano, and she prised it up, knowing all the while that her hands were stained with blood.
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