Chapter 7: 6

Chapter 6 – Ms. Jacquelyn

“Good morning, Ms. Jacquelyn.”

“Good morning, Angela. You look terrible, have you been getting enough sleep?”

When Ms. Jacquelyn showed up in the dining room in her customary negligee, her brow creased at the sight of Angela’s face upon reaching the table where breakfast was laid out.

In the Jacquelyn household, where Ms. Jacquelyn, burdened with low blood pressure, was the head of the household, their breakfast was served much later than usual, at 10:00 a.m. Partly owing to this, Angela was able to stay up late playing at “Crazy Louis” until midnight.

However, this morning, both of Angela’s eyes were not fully open, revealing dark circles under them. It seemed that last night’s concert with Adonis had stimulated her to the core, and even though she had retired to bed right after returning home, the sleepiness had not yet set in. Nevertheless, she closed her eyes to sleep, but the image of his profile, which she had stealthily observed while they were playing together, flashed across the back of her eyelids. Whenever she relived that boyish smile, absorbed in playing the piano, Angela would thrash her arms and legs in agony, struggling to fall asleep.

“Heh, I’m sorry. I’ll go wash my face later.”

“Seriously, you little. In any case, you must have been up late reading romance novels again. How is your piece for the London competition proving to be?”

“Almost perfect!”

“You’re lying. Your ‘almost’ is too broad. Do you understand, Angela? This is truly your last chance.”

“I know that. So here I was, trying to get some sleep regretfully…”

“Regretfully?”

“I’m trying to be more expressive through romance novels!”

As Angela confidently asserted with a raised finger, the two maids serving breakfast were involuntarily flabbergasted.

The Jacquelyn family employed two housemaids, who were in charge of all household chores, including cooking. Incidentally, Angela’s job involved playing the piano at the dinner table. The rest of the time was allocated for practicing, chores, and grocery shopping.

Ms. Jacquelyn let out a deep sigh and switched into a scolding mode, waving the table knife she was holding up and down.

“You know, Angela… the upcoming London competition has that Mabel Faze as a guest judge. She’s seventeen like you, right?”

“Yeah, right.”

Angela, filling her mouth with the bread, returned the tension-free aizuchi. Ms. Jacquelyn’s rebuking went on and on.

“On one hand, she’s seventeen years old and has carved a name for herself in the music world without any special backing. And you, on the other hand, are the daughter of a prodigious disciple of Vanstein’s, indulging in romantic novels at the age of seventeen. How can both of you be so different after having devoted the same amount of time! Aren’t you frustrated? In terms of lineage, you must be better than her!”

“You know that lineage doesn’t matter for a pianist, as that once-in-a-decade genius, Mabel Faze, has proven. Mabel’s playing is of a different dimension, or rather… her melodies are like a fantasy. The kind of that makes you fall in love just by recollecting it…”

“So stop that, you know, that romantic brain of yours!”

“H-how cruel… even you yourself, Ms. Jacquelyn, those romance novels that you lent me! You read ten volumes in one night and slept through the whole next day!

“I-It’s fine with me. I do my job decently well, and also my husband predeceased me…”

“The latest volume eleven. It came out, by the way. It was Doroddoro, right from the start~!”

“Wait, eh!? After having spent ten volumes and they finally get married? That’s impossible, that’s not how the development should be…”

“Ma’am. If you don’t get ready by now, you won’t be able to make it to today’s farm management meeting. Please hurry.”

One of the maids, Sarah, holding a teapot, reminded her master.

“Eh!? Is it that late already? Forget the tea, I’m going to get changed, help me! Angela, make sure you practice! Also–“

“He is going to be put out of his misery.”

“The climax of the story!?”

“With the Marquis of Redbeard～?”

“Aaahhh! I’m curious about Doroddoroooooooooo!”

“Ma’am, you must not! You’ll have to wait until after you get back… after you get back!”

Ms. Jacquelyn’s screams were far away. The operation to avoid today’s rebuke was a great success.

“Angela… you are the best. I couldn’t take it anymore, I just burst out.”

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Carla, the other maid, grinned and re-filled Angela’s tea.

“She has a weakness of her own. Ms. Jacquelyn is a maiden in love, you know.”

“You say that again… and no matter how well we get along, she’s a strict person about her promises… If you don’t win the next competition, you’ll really be kicked out.”

“… Well, I will think about it when the time comes!”

Without even mentioning that she slipped out every night to prep for the moment, Angela stood up and carried the utensils to the kitchen.

“Ah, it’s alright. Drink your tea slowly, I took the trouble to re-fill it for you.”

“Thank you, Carla, but I’ll take my share!”

At the sight of Angela hastily clearing away the tableware, Carla drew a small breath and laughed bitterly.

“Even if you get kicked out, I wonder if you would fare well anywhere else.”

＊　＊　＊

“Well, it’s a little different… I don’t know if it’s the expression or the presentation… Please play it again from here…”

This piano teacher, Angela’s fifth piano teacher in total, was simply beyond awful. What was so sorrowful was that she now had to play the Hanon for fingertip strengthening exercises. Moreover, how can there be any expression or presentation by playing the Hanon?

Ms. Jacquelyn has been changing piano teachers every time Angela failed to make it into the competition. And all of those teachers have implemented equally disappointing teaching methods. However, compared to the teacher that seemingly had a perverse character who arrived a week ago, Angela was still more content than before.

Angela recalled her first meeting with Ms. Jacquelyn.

The senior (widow, 37 years old) suddenly emerged and began to tell a story about herself to a 16 year old girl whom she had never met before.

According to her.

The young Ms. Jacquelyn aspired to be a pianist.

Yet, once she realized that she lacked talent, she relinquished that dream. Having advanced in society as a woman, she was now part of the upper class.

Even so, her passion for the piano has not wavered.

Now, as a patron, she hoped to help young talented pianists grow, and that was when she found Angela performing in the chapel of an orphanage.

This wonderful talent cannot be left to smolder in a place like this. A revelation dawned on her: it was my mission to spread recognition of this remarkable talent.

At the time, Angela was honestly thrilled with her stroke of good fortune… Now, however, she can understand why Ms. Jacquelyn abandoned her career as a pianist.

Ms. Jacquelyn. You were not without talent for the piano.

Every teacher you chose because you figured they were good was the type of teacher who would spray you with weedkiller before your talent had time to sprout! You should not be such a patron of pianists. Even if you do, do not choose the piano teacher.

There were plenty of things to say, but there was no doubt that it was Angela herself who was not producing the results. While listening to all the clumsy instructions, the girl played the Hanon as if she were being subjected to her own punishment.

Once this morning session ended, she would have to practice the assigned piece for the competition in the afternoon. Neither of the pieces was appealing, but compared to Hanon, it was still better to play the assigned piece.

However, by the afternoon, Angela’s playing instantly lacked stability. This piece included a series of fortissimo directions, with octave notes. For Angela, who possessed small hands, this was indeed a devil’s task.

I want more stability, more intensity, more passion! I could not concentrate even more because I was disturbed by the excited perverse teacher. Nonetheless, she managed to finish the piece, jotted down what was pointed out to her, and then played it again.

If the fingers were spread as wide, hitting it with force, the sound would be greater, but the touch would be rough and uncontrollable. If this was even worse, it would be a mistouch. When asked about this, the perverse teacher only replied with the obvious: “You’ll have to do it again and again, and then you’ll be able to expand your fingers.”

Each time Angela encountered several pages of repetitive octave notes, she would envision herself sinking deeper and deeper into a bottomless swamp.

It was truly a veritable downward spiral. Perhaps due to the fatigue of her fingers, even the keys felt heavy.

No, in fact, the keys of this piano were heavy, and it seemed as though the keys would not return to their original position after each successive strike.

Compared to the piano in “Crazy Louis,” which has been newly tuned, the ease and enjoyment of playing it seemed to be fundamentally different.

Ah, I want to play with Adonis again. This time, I want to amaze him by arranging the piece even more skillfully. And I want to see his boyish smile again as if he were enjoying himself wholeheartedly.

While appropriately brushing aside the weedkiller, the seventeen year old girl’s heart swelled with anticipation as she wondered if the night would arrive soon.

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