Full Circle

Chapter 5. PLAY, MAESTRO. PLAY...

JENNY'S FINGERS REACHED the hallowed ivory keys of Mrs Nikolayeva's imported muscovite grand piano. Her index finger and forefinger played the opening notes.

Mr Armstrong nodded his head approvingly, as if to say, "Thank goodness she's managed to play the first handful of notes correctly."

However, Mrs Anna Nikolayeva's eyebrows arched in surprise and her face took on a stunned look as if she had seen the ghost of Ludwig van Beethoven himself, for she was one of the greatest pianists who ever lived. To an ordinary person, or even to a reasonably talented pianist like Mr Armstrong, Jenny's first few notes would simply have sounded correctly played. But to Mrs Anna Nikolayeva's ears, just the handful of notes Jenny first played were perfection incarnate. The rhythm, the touch, the interpretation, was truly a work of art.

Then, as Jenny's left hand joined in the action, Mrs Nikolayeva gasped and she pursed her lips, her face frozen in a permanent "Ooh". Mr Armstrong for his part also gasped, simply because he had never witnessed her playing the piece anywhere near correctly before. She had certainly never synchronised her left hand bass notes with her right hand melody notes. A few notes later, he noticed Mrs Nikolayeva's stunned frozen face and realised that Jenny wasn't just playing the piece correctly, but playing it exceptionally.

Alison Thompson, sitting in the corridor outside, must have thought that Mrs Nikolayeva was demonstrating the piece to Jenny.

As Jenny progressed with the piece, her fingers danced upon the piano keys with great poise, grace and precision, as if they were the miniaturised legs of the world's greatest Russian ballerinas. And all the while, Jenny's face was breathing in the music as if it was part of her.

As she approached the middle section, she gave Mrs Nikolayeva a cursory glance as she had been instructed earlier not to play it. Of course, Mrs Nikolayeva nodded eagerly her approval indicating that she wanted Jenny to play it.

And play it, she did.

More perfection.

Mrs Nikolayeva was soon clasping her hands over her heart, and tears were streaming down her knowledgeable face.

Mr Armstrong was trying his best to keep his emotions together and took to continually wiping his glasses.

Finally, Jenny played the last few dying bass notes of the piece's rising and falling arpeggio.

Her small audience exploded into applause.

"Bravo, Miss Sullivan! Bravo! Full marks and more! Bravo! School prize for music and more. Bravo!"

"Well played, Jenny," said Mr Armstrong. Then he wagged his finger playfully at her and said, "Where did that come from? You certainly stitched me up like a kipper. Thank you for providing me with the greatest surprise of my life."

"No problem, sir," said Jenny. "I think I provided myself with the same surprise."

"And the next piece in your practical examination is your free choice piece," said Mrs Nikolayeva. "What piece did you prepare?"

"I didn't prepare anything really," admitted Jenny. "I didn't imagine I would get this far, in all honesty."

"What!" Mrs Nikolayeva was befuddled.

"But never mind," said Jenny with a big smile. "I can easily make a piece up. That's true free choice, if you think about it."

"Oh good," said Mrs Nikolayeva, rubbing her hands joyfully. "I can see with a talent like yours, this is bound to be an interesting listen."

"Shall I start?"

"Wait a minute, Jennifer," said Mrs Nikolayeva. "I'll just bring in Alison Thompson. She's a promising pupil, and I'd like to see her observe what is ultimately possible for a human to achieve."