Guilty until Proven Innocent

Smooth, silky, cool to the touch. The piano keys had the same feel as the varnish her daughter had insisted on painting on Esther’s nails the night before. The nail varnish may have felt unfamiliar, but the piano she knew by heart, and the delicate sound of the notes carried Esther to another place. As her long fingers slid across the black and white keys, she was no longer just the cleaner taking her break in the sumptuous library of someone else’s house. She was in a magnificent dance hall in a different time and place, waltzing in a red dress. She paused briefly to turn the page, and then let her fingers dance up and down the octaves once more. 

A sudden knock at the door and the squeak of the brass handle made Esther jump. ‘Sorry, Malcolm,’ she said, ‘I thought you were out. I was just having my break before I tackled the rest of the decorations that Diana asked me to put up.’ He knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t be shirking her duties. He weaved round the boxes of tinsel that were scattered around the room. ‘No need to explain, Esther. And your playing sounds just lovely.’ She couldn’t take all the credit. The library, with its panelled walls and thick carpet, had perfect acoustics, and the baby grand piano was a thing of beauty—polished, dark mahogany, and tuned to perfection—unlike Esther’s second-hand upright that badly needed work. Still, despite its faults, her piano was her prized possession. 

Malcolm stood in silence, rare for him. He usually had so much to say. ‘Do you need me for something?,’ she asked. He stared at his feet, hands firmly shoved in the pockets of his expensive trousers. ‘I’ve, erm, come to give you what we owe you Esther,’ he said. Esther frowned. Not just because she’d caught a definite whiff of the cigarettes he said he’d given up, but because that was the second time he’d called her by her name, instead of the usual ‘Chubs’, short for chubby, a nickname he’d given her on account of the fact that she was so skinny. Her heart started to beat that bit faster. ‘But I usually get paid next week.’ Only one more pay day and she’d be able to settle up with the piano tuner she’d booked to come on Christmas Eve. If she got her money now it would be taken out of her hands. Never mind presents, there were always so many bills, and food, the never-ending demand for clothes from her teenage kids… 

Malcolm shifted around on the spot. Esther gulped. ‘I don’t understand. Can’t you just keep it until next Friday?’ He looked fleetingly towards the door, distracted by the unmistakeable sound of his wife Diana’s gold bangles. The jangling came to a stop right outside the door, which remained firmly closed. He turned back to Esther, rubbing his chin, and she thought he looked older and more tired all of a sudden. ‘Esther, I’m afraid we won’t be requiring your services any more.’ The words sounded robotic, rehearsed for an audience. Esther furrowed her brow, her mind frantically searching for some kind of answer. ‘But why not? Did I do something wrong?’ It was always the way with her now. After years of struggling to stay afloat that had gradually eroded all her self-confidence, Esther had got into the habit of blaming herself, of thinking everything was her fault, even if on this occasion she had no clue what she might have done. 

There was an uncomfortable silence, broken only by the ticking grandfather clock and then more rudely by the creaking of the heavy oak door. ‘I’ll tell you why not,’ said Diana, bristling into the library and throwing an exasperated look in Malcolm’s direction. ‘Because of the ring. The one I left in this room. Tell her Malcolm.’ And with that she turned on her kitten heels and slammed the door, leaving a trail of perfume in her wake, the draft sending Esther’s music sheets floating into the air. 

Esther slumped onto the piano stool, her mind whirring. What ring? What was Diana talking about? And what did her ring have to do with Esther? ‘Malcolm,’ she said, ‘I’m lost, honestly.’ He sat on a chair opposite and shuffled it towards her, his shoulders dropping down now as he heaved a huge sigh. ‘Look Chubs,’ he said quietly, ‘Diana had a ring, you know, the gold one with the big blue stone. It belonged to her aunt. She took it off in here, for definite, and is almost a hundred percent sure she left it on that side table.’ He flicked his head towards it. ‘And you’re the only one who ever comes in here, so…’ Esther gasped. ‘So she thinks I stole it?’

Diana had never liked her, probably because she and Malcolm got on so well. He’d always looked beyond her status as the cleaner, chatted to her about her life, told her snippets about his, and sometimes they even shared a giggle, whereas Diana had always made sure that Esther knew her place. She started to panic now, as it fully dawned on her what she was being accused of. Gosh, she desperately needed a drink of water. ‘Have you looked everywhere? Under everything? Behind all the cupboards?’ Esther fired question after question at Malcolm, not pausing to give him the time to reply. And after the questions, a brief moment of clarity washed over her. ‘And you, Malcolm. Do you think I stole the ring too?’ 

Malcolm had his eyes closed, his head down, as Esther desperately tried to read his thoughts while waiting for him to answer. ‘Well, I…’. He cleared his throat. ‘I know things have been difficult for you this past year or so. And that your husband lost his job, and with Christmas coming. And that ring, it was really valuable.’ His words drifted away. The ring. Esther remembered it now. It had fallen off Diana’s finger once and bounced across the kitchen tiles. It was quite ugly and big, she recalled, and it had felt heavy in the palm of Esther’s hand as she’d handed it over to Diana. It could have been priceless or worthless. Jewellery was never Esther’s thing. 

Esther tried to gather her galloping senses together. A solitary tear trickled down her burning cheeks, a tear that she stubbornly wiped away before sitting herself up straight. ‘Malcolm, I’ve worked for you and Diana for five years, and your home is beautiful, but apart from your piano, you have nothing that I would ever want. Or need.’ Malcolm ran his hands through his greying hair. ‘It’s just Diana. She has a good memory, she’s usually right about where she’s put things, and we’ve turned the place upside down…’ Esther stood up, her initial shock turning to anger in the face of this injustice. But it was pointless arguing her case. She and Malcolm may get along ok, but Diana was his wife and he would naturally side with her. All she could do was try to salvage some pride. Gathering the scattered pages of her sonata together, she smoothed down her blouse and put her worn leather handbag on her shoulder. ‘Just do me one favour Malcolm,’ she said, looking directly into his eyes. ‘If ever you come across the ring, please be decent enough to let me know. I won’t want my job back, but at least I’ll have the satisfaction of knowing I’m no longer thought of as a thief.’ Malcom nodded, and proffered an envelope with her wages in. His warm hand briefly touched hers, giving it the gentlest of squeezes. Esther pulled away before hastily shoving the envelope into her handbag. She had to get out of that library. The bright tinsel seemed suddenly at odds with the darkness of the scene unravelling in the room, and the acrid smell of it was tainting the already stifling atmosphere. She made a beeline for the front door, vaguely aware of the tap-tap of Malcom’s brogue-clad feet some way behind her, and then she flipped around sharply. ‘There’s just one more thing,’ she said. ‘What is it?’, Malcolm asked, wide-eyed. Was he anticipating some sort of confession? ‘The piano. The middle C, it’s sticking.’ Esther’s voice started to break before she’d reached the end of the sentence, strangled by anger and frustration, and the sadness of knowing she’d never play that piano again. ‘Thanks Chubs, I’ll look at it,’ he said softly. ‘And I’m sorry’. Esther turned quickly and headed for her car, a wave of cooling tears cascading down her face. As she grappled with her shaking hands to get the keys in the ignition, she heard the crunch of Malcolm’s feet on the gravel drive and waited for the definitive slam of the front door. Then she allowed herself to sob.

If Esther had been a fly on the wall, she would have seen Malcolm head into the library, press the middle C a few times, and then peer inside the open lid. She would have watched him locate the string of the offending note, then spot the hammer that wasn’t quite settled in place. She would have seen him bend down to get a closer look and then reach in to pull out whatever was blocking the hammer. Diana’s ring, not left on the table as she’d thought, her memory having been impaired by three glasses of prosecco, but on top of the piano from where it had presumably slipped. She would have noticed his scarlet cheeks, heard his whispered cursing, almost smelled the shame as he wiped his brow. Seconds after, she would have seen him take out his phone and scroll through his contacts to find Esther’s details. Then, once they were located, she would have witnessed him hover over her number for a few seconds…before pressing delete.