Nocturnes_ Five Stories of Music and Nightfall - Kazuo Ishiguro [76]
“Yes, she did. I understand she has a lot of natural gifts.”
“Oh, she sure does. Anyone who knows her will be able to see that. She has such sensitivity. She’s the one who should be having those lessons. Me, I’m just Mr. Banana Fingers.” He held up his hands and laughed. “I’d like to play piano, but what can you do with hands like these? Great for digging the earth, that’s what my people did for generations. But that lady”—he indicated towards the door with his glass—“now she’s got sensitivity.”
Eventually, Eloise emerged from the bedroom in a dark evening dress and a lot of jewellery.
“Peter, don’t bore Tibor,” she said. “He’s not interested in golf.”
Peter held out his hands and looked pleadingly at Tibor. “Now tell me, Tibor. Did I say a single word to you about golf?”
Tibor said he should be going; that he could see he was keeping the couple from their dinner. This was met by protests from both of them, and Peter said:
“Now look at me. Do I look like I’m dressed for dinner?”
And though Tibor thought he looked perfectly decent, he gave the laugh that seemed expected of him. Then Peter said:
“You can’t leave without playing something. I’ve been hearing so much about your playing.”
Confused, Tibor had actually started to unfasten his cello case, when Eloise said firmly, some new quality in her voice:
“Tibor’s right. Time’s getting on. The restaurants in this town, they don’t keep your table if you don’t come on time. Peter, you get yourself dressed. Maybe a shave too? I’ll see Tibor out. I want to speak with him in private.”
In the lift, they smiled affectionately at each other, but didn’t speak. When they came outside, they found the piazza lit up for the night. Local kids, back from their holidays, were kicking balls, or chasing each other around the fountain. The evening passeggiata was in full flow, and I suppose our music would have come drifting through the air to where they were standing.
“Well, that’s it,” she said, eventually. “He’s found me, so I guess he deserves me.”
“He is a most charming person,” Tibor said. “You intend to return to America now?”
“In a few days. I suppose I will.”
“You intend to marry?”
“I guess so.” For an instant, she looked at him earnestly, then looked away. “I guess so,” she said again.
“I wish you much happiness. He is a kind man. Also a music lover. That’s important for you.”
“Yes. That’s important.”
“When you were getting ready just now. We were talking not of golf, but of music lessons.”
“Oh really? You mean for him or for me?”
“For both. However, I don’t suppose there will be many teachers in Portland, Oregon, who could teach you.”
She gave a laugh. “Like I said, it’s difficult for people like us.”
“Yes, I appreciate that. After these last few weeks, I appreciate that more than ever.” Then he added: “Miss Eloise, there is something I must tell you before we part. I will soon leave for Amsterdam, where I have been given a position in a large hotel.”
“You’re going to be a porter?”
“No. I will play in a small chamber group in the hotel dining room. We will entertain the hotel guests while they eat.”
He was watching her carefully and saw something ignite behind her eyes, then fade away. She laid a hand on his arm and smiled.
“Well then, good luck.” Then she added: “Those hotel guests. They’ve got some treat coming up.”
“I hope so.”
For another moment, they remained standing there together, just beyond the pool of light cast by the front of the hotel, the bulky cello between them.
“And I hope also,” he said, “you’ll be very happy with Mr. Peter.”
“I hope so too,” she said and laughed again. Then she kissed him on the cheek and gave him a quick hug. “You take care of yourself,” she said.
Tibor thanked her, then before he quite realised it, he was watching her walking back