The Special Room

Dear Simon,

I was brought up by my grandparents who were born in the 1880s and so were Victorians with Victorian values and lived by Victorian traditions. Although kind and caring, children were to be seen and not heard.

Here’s another tradition, namely the special room. We had a bungalow in Fernside Road in Poole, Dorset. A kitchen, a bathroom, a toilet and five other rooms. Three were used as bedrooms, the fourth was a living-cum-dining room. The fifth room was what I called the “Sunday best” room, used for special events and important visitors. It was forbidden territory. Woe betide me if I ventured in – which I never did, even though it was unlocked. I caught glimpses when my gran went in to dust or to light a fire to air the room now and then.

When she took down the lace curtains to wash, I would stand in the front garden and look in the window. I could see a rolltop desk, two large glass cabinets containing ornaments, and a piano.

None of us were musical so the piano was never heard. Actually, I never remember the room being used but there it was year after year, my gran’s pride and joy.

Then came the day the grown-ups decided it was safe to leave me in the house when they went on their weekly visit to the Shah of Persia public house. There I was all alone. Five minutes, then I went into the special room to see what secrets were held there. This was going to be fun. Straight to the rolltop desk. It was locked. The two cabinets were locked, although I could see the ornaments but no touching was possible. Two small cupboards were locked as was a large wooden box on the floor.

This left the piano – surely not locked. It wasn’t – up with the lid. I couldn’t play but banged away at the keys. The music was loud and clear. Perhaps my gran had friends around for a singsong when I was at school, although I doubted that.

I left the “special room” deflated. Whatever secrets it held were safe from a nosy schoolboy.

David Sim

Normanby, Middlesbrough, North Yorkshire