Catherine The Musician.

2 hours 34 minutes and 17 seconds... no big deal... On New Year’s Day 2009 I made a resolution to FINALLY learn to play Clair de Lune on the piano before the end of the year. It is now two and a half hours until 2010. And I am yet to master it. I know I know. A whole year to practice and I’m cramming in a bunch of practice in the last lap of 2009. Don’t judge me. I was busy. Well, sort of. It all started out so well. My late grandmother owned a piano that her father had given her when she was a child. She was an amazing pianist. She was one of those people who could simply hear a song and know how to play it themselves. She could get anybody up and dancing to her vast collection of tried and tested pieces that we all knew so well. Even I fell into that mindset of, ‘Surely I could play the piano. It looks so easy when she plays.’ Yes. When SHE plays. After a year of stubbing my fingers on the keys (don’t ask), closing the piano lid on my fingers (again don’t ask) and sometimes, to reignite my motivation to practice, pressing random keys half standing half squatting and peeking my head over the piano top and into where the strings are to childishly delight in seeing the string of each key pop up, I quickly realised this to be very true. My grandmother can play very well. My grandmother was 86 and started playing at 7. 79 years to reach perfection. I gave myself a year. I was hopeful. Ok I was ignorant.

Anyways, fast forward and my grandmother died and who would have thought it! She left the piano to me! Me! I can barely hold a tune with my voice never mind playing one on the piano. Thus, when such news came out, the family happened to find this turn of events quite entertaining. Catherine and a piano. Catherine the musician. I can see them all laughing at the thought now. Needless to say this rubbed me up the wrong way. So I made the bold and possibly idiotic proclamation at this past new year’s that by the end of the year I would have Clair de Lune (Grandmother’s signature piece) mastered and ready to play to ring in the new year. Now, with just over 2 hours left of 2009, with all my family meandering between the living room and kitchen, drinking cocktails, eating snacks and joking together, I now see the error of my ways. Late night, lots of food and drink, family poking fun at me, New Year’s resolutions to make. You get it. It all added up to an overly confident goal for the year. I shake my head to hopefully pull myself out of the pit of regret and stop myself from thinking of possible goals that I could have made instead. Handwrite a letter and post it... Aww that would have been done in no time. Bake a potato correctly the first time and not have to prick it repeatedly and reheat. Actually that might have been harder.

Sorry! Stop! Back to practicing. C...G...B flat...A... eh... Fudge! I heave a sigh and stand up from the stool to stretch for the 17th time. ‘Almost ready?’ I jump mid-stretch and look to the door to see my smug cousin John poking his head around the door, a sly smile plastered on his face. Knowing my luck he probably heard the Fudge as well as seeing the stretch. Great.

‘Yep, just practicing to make sure I nail it for you all.’ I confidently declare back. Not technically a lie as I AM practicing, just not with such certainty of perfecting said practice.

‘Very good. Very good. because we’re all excited to hear you play. It’s been a while since we heard that piece played live. I have to admit I’m pretty impressed. I didn’t think you’d stick at this.’ John then proceeded to step forward into the doorway, and leaning himself on the doorframe, arms crossed and yet more smug, seemed set on remaining there for a while.

‘Can I help you?’ I ask through gritted teeth.

‘No, I just wanted to get a sneak peek at the master playing.’ How was he so confident in my lack of ability? Irritating.

‘Well tough luck.’ I retort, ‘No one hears anything until I say.’ I look up at the clock on the wall above the piano. 10:15pm. Yikes. Only 1 hour and 45 minutes left.

John follows my eye to the clock and gives a knowing smile. ‘See you at midnight!’ He triumphantly declares whilst pushing himself up from the doorframe and sauntering out of the room and back to party central.

I turn back to the piano and fumble about some more. I have parts of the piece down, it’s just some key areas that I stumble over every time. I groan yet again, palm both hands onto the keys and decide to wonder about the room.

The house I live in now used to be Grandmother’s. She sold it to me before she downsized into her one storey cottage, a couple of years before she died. Despite having lived here on my own for almost two years, I still have a few objects from Grandmother that I’ve never looked into. I told her to leave her extra stuff with me when she moved so she didn’t have to throw everything out and also, selfishly, I liked the idea of looking through her belongings from long ago and seeing more of who she used to be. In this room specifically, which I now use as a home office, I have an old small chest of drawers of hers that I’ve never stopped to look through. Grandmother never mentioned wanting anything from it after she moved, and I never got around to digging through it. What better time than at 10:40pm on New Year’s Eve when I should be practicing piano?

I settle down cross legged in front of the old chest and begin to pull out drawers. The bottom one is of no real interest. Just some old packets of tissues, a newspaper article about a Church fete from 1978 and the usual pens etc that you find in every drawer. Next one up contains a few photos; some of mum when she was a child, some of me as a little girl and some of old Spike, the family dog that passed just before grandmother.

As I get to the top drawer it sticks a little as I try and open it. I pull a little harder and it still sticks. I get to my feet and place both hands on the drawer handle and pull. Apparently, I pulled too hard. The drawer flies open, I fall back, and the drawer drops to the carpeted floor. Oops. I right myself and look to see what was in the drawer. It’s empty. How? I couldn’t get it open without considerable force and yet it is empty? I get a bit bummed out and sit back down on the floor. As I raise my head from the empty drawer, I look up towards the chest that it came from. I notice in the top right of the space where said drawer once was and notice a corner of something visible. I assume it’s a part of the drawer that has come loose but go to check it anyway as I think that it must have been the reason for the jammed drawer and removing would probably help. As I get closer I notice a shine to the object. I reach in and pull on the corner. After a bit of tugging, it falls out and I catch it. Pulling it out I realise that it is an old disc. On the disc it reads, Martha Playing. Martha was my Grandmother’s name. I wonder what it could be. My Uncle did go through old family photos and videos and put them onto discs for us all to keep so maybe this was one of them? I get my laptop over from its place on my desk, eyeing the piano as I do so. I’ll get back to that in a minute, I think to myself.

I put the laptop on the floor, turn it on and open the disc player. I put the mystery disc in and wait as it loads. Next thing I know I’m watching a recording of the living room of what is now my house but back when it was Grandmother’s! The camera is focused on the corner of the room with the piano but there is no one there. I keep watching for about 30 seconds, but nothing happens. I go to stop it when suddenly Grandmother appears out of the corner of the camera and walks towards the piano!

‘Go on. For me. Please?’ Somebody pleads off camera.

‘Just for you Roger. Just for you.’ My Grandmother teases back. I can’t believe my ears. Roger was my Grandfather who died 10 years before Grandmother. He must have been playing with an old camera and asked Grandmother to play something whilst he filmed. She sits down ever so gracefully at the piano. Looks straight at the camera and then above it and smiles. A wipe away a tear having not realised I had started crying. Grandmother turns back towards the piano and begins to play… Yes, you guessed it. Clare de Lune. She plays it effortlessly. Her hands rising and falling with the melody, perfect timing, amazing poise. She nails it as always. The camera suddenly jolts a little as if someone is setting it down. Suddenly Grandfather appears in front of the camera and walks over to Grandmother, still playing. He puts his hands on her shoulders and kisses her head.

‘Thank You.’ He whispers into her hair. She stops to put one her right hand on top of his.

‘You’re welcome.’ She softly replies.

The camera suddenly cuts to grey. The battery must have died or something.

I wipe away yet another tear and start to turn off the video. Then an idea strikes me. I squeal a little to myself. Yes! Perfect!

I clamber back to the piano and then turn and grab the laptop off the floor. I then begin to run down the hall towards the now boisterous family. On my way there I bump into John who jumps to the side of the hallway to escape.

‘Whoa, what’s the rush? Trying to escape before midnight so you don’t have to play?’ He says jokingly. I turn to face him, and he evidently noticed my tear-stained face.

‘Catherine, what’s wrong? You know I’ve just been teasing you right? I’m actually a bit jealous that your New Year’s Goal was so much more honourable and heartfelt than mine. Mine was just to try kale. I mean what kind of a goal is that and I haven’t even – ‘

I cut him off before he blathers on.

‘No, John I’m not crying because of you. I’m crying because of this.’ I shout gleefully whilst holding the disc cover aloft.

‘Why? What’s that? One of Uncle Steven’s old discs that he made? What’s on it?’ John goes to reach for the disc cover, but I quickly pull it back.

‘No wait. Come and sit with the others. I have something to show you all.’

I rush through to the living room without checking to see if he is following.

As I reach the living room I rush in and begin setting up connecting the laptop to the TV screen which is currently showing a freezing man in some random town square telling us that there is 20 minutes to go until 2010. As I connect the laptop up the man disappears and a grey screen is left in its place. I flail my hand around behind me at my now complaining relatives.

‘Just give me a second. Trust me. It’s worth it.’ I shout over the uproar.

Next thing the camera footage pops up on screen.

‘Hey! Isn’t that this run but when Grandmother lived here?’ shouts my cousin Rachel.

‘Yes, it is.’ I breathlessly reply. The uproar brought in the rest of the family from the kitchen so now everyone is gathered.

‘What’s all this about?’ asks my mother.

I stand up, adjust my jumper, and face my family, all looking at me with confused and expectant faces.

‘Well, as you all know, I made the goal at the start of this year to play Clair De Lune for you all on the next New Year’s Eve.’

‘Yes and we can’t wait to hear you play!’ exclaims Aunt Clair (Yes she was named after the piece).

‘Well, I’m not going to play it now.’ I stated with all the conviction I can muster despite knowing the imminent reactions.

‘What!’, ‘Why?’, ‘Oh Catherine! I was so looking forward to this!’, ‘You said you’d practiced.’

I let the craziness die out before I begin my explanation.

‘Hear me out.’ I speak. ‘I’m not playing Clair de Lune tonight because I found someone much more qualified to play it for us all.’

‘Who?’ asks John. ‘None of us can play?’

‘Grandmother.’ I simply state. And with that statement I move from standing in front of the TV screen to reveal the camera footage and press play on my laptop.

The ‘Oh’s and ‘Ah’s that then commence are music to my ears. I look around the room as everyone takes in the magical scene that I witnessed. The scene I see is also quite magical.

As the footage abruptly turns to grey. Everyone glances over at me. Not a dry eye in the room.

In the distance the church bells are heard. Declaring a New Year has begun.

‘Happy New Year everyone.’ I say, bursting with joy.

‘Happy New Year!’ Everyone shouts in return. We all clap for Grandmother’s playing. She always loved that.

I’ll learn the piece for the next New Year’s. I promise. Maybe.