Thank You For The Music

A valuable lesson is learned in this gentle short story by Lynne Hallett.

COULD anything be more delightful than summer Sundays in the park? Bill smiled as the sounds of the brass band wafted from the Victorian bandstand and the rays of the sun warmed his body.

Children were squealing with delight as they played tag or scooted past him.

“Time for a rest, I think, Bonnie,” he said to the dog trotting patiently by his side. “Let’s find ourselves a bench, shall we?”

He knew the park like the back of his hand and the benches dotted on the path below the theatre steps were close at hand.

The only concern was that they would already be occupied on a day like this, even though so many visitors to the park brought picnic blankets with them, spreading them out on the copious grassy sections amid the bushes and trees.

Bonnie stopped within a few seconds and he paused a moment.

“Is this seat free?” he asked.

“I do have my daughter and granddaughter with me, but I’m sure we’ll all fit. Fay can always sit on her mum’s knee, if necessary.”

It was a woman who spoke and he could tell from her voice that she was of a similar age to him.

He felt for the back of the bench and eased himself on to it, patting the side to ensure that enough space remained.

“They’ve just gone for ice-creams,” she added by way of explanation.

“They could be a while, then. There’s always a queue on a day like this.”

“Yes, it’s perfect ice-cream weather.”

There was a pause and Bill wondered whether he should just sit back and listen to the music or engage in further conversation until the woman’s daughter and granddaughter returned.

The decision was made for him.

“Do you come here often?” the woman asked him.

He chuckled.

“I thought that was supposed to be the man’s line.”

“It’s so clichéd, isn’t it, but it always breaks the ice. I’m Mo.”

“Bill,” he replied, extending a hand, into which a small one was placed. The handshake was gentle.

“And in answer to your question, Mo, yes, I do come here often, especially between May and September.

“I love to listen to the brass band playing on a Sunday. Makes my week. “What about you?”

“It’s my first time here, actually. I’m staying with Ria – that’s my daughter – until we can get some accommodation sorted out for me.” She paused.

“I need to be a bit closer to them now.”

There was sadness in her voice and he wondered what had caused it.

The most likely explanation was the passing of a loved one, but it wasn’t something he was going to ask, given they had only been acquainted for a matter of minutes.

“Ah, I see. Well, it’s a nice place to live. Lovely hills. Good, fresh air. And this beautiful park.”

She remained quiet.

“Do you like brass bands, then?” Bill asked her, trying to fill the silence.

“Yes. The players are so versatile, aren’t they?

“One minute they’re playing some hymn or other and then they’re performing film music.”

“It’s one of my greatest pleasures. I used to play in a brass band when I was a lad.”

“Did you? What did you play?”

“The trombone. Wonderful instrument.” He smiled to himself. “Those were the days.”

Bill had never lost sight of what was really important . . .

“Yes.” Mo sounded wistful.

“Music was everything to me then and it means even more to me now.

“Just lean back, Mo, close your eyes, and let the music wash over you.”

He heard what sounded like a gulp.

“All right,” she said softly. “I’ll give it a go.”

There was a round of applause as the band finished playing “New York, New York” and then the bandmaster came to the mic.

“So now, we will play the most iconic song from the hit musical, “Les Misérables”. I think it needs no more introduction than that.”

There was a short pause before the opening notes of “I Dreamed A Dream” soared into the atmosphere.

Bill could feel his heart ache and his eyes moisten, as they so often did when that song was played.

There was something about it which got to him every time.

His ears were also attuned to Mo, and before the end of the song, she was trying to stifle sobs.

He fished into his pocket for a handkerchief.

“Would you like this to dry your eyes? It’s clean, of course.”

He felt the handkerchief being taken from him and a muttered thank you.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me,” she added.

“No need to apologise. Nothing wrong with a few tears.”

“The thing is, Bill, something happened recently which changed everything.”

He knew it.

“And I’m having difficulty adjusting to my . . . new situation.”

He remained quiet, just allowing Mo to go at her own pace.

“You see, I . . .”

She was broken off by a little voice piping up.

“Here you go, Grandma. We got you mint choc chip.”

Mo sniffed.

“Perfect, darling. You know how much I love mint choc chip.”

“Are you OK, Mum? You seem upset.”

“No, it was nothing. Just the music. Bill here loaned me his handkerchief.”

He could feel eyes turning on him.

“Good afternoon, ladies.” Fay giggled.

“I like your glasses. They’re really dark, aren’t they? Do they help you see better in the sunshine?”

“Fay!” The horror in Ria’s voice was apparent. He heard Mo gasp. “They’re special glasses.” Bill lowered his voice. “They give me superpowers, but don’t tell anyone.”

“Wow! What can you do with them?”

“Well, I can’t actually see any more, not like you can anyway. That’s why I have Bonnie here to help me.

“But these glasses, well, they help me see in a different way.

“They help me see in my mind’s eye.”

“Is it very bad not being able to see?”

“Fay, that’s enough!” Ria said. She turned to Bill.

“I’m so sorry. She’s just at that age, you know?”

“There’s no need to apologise, love. She’s only asking a question.

“Now, Fay, I will tell you the whole truth. It was bad at first.

“You don’t realise how much you rely on your sight until it’s gone.

“However, lots of different things happen in life, some good, some not so good, and you just have to work around them.

“I was able to see for many, many years, so I know what things look like.

“It’s not like I was born blind and didn’t see anything ever.

“But during the time I could see, I didn’t look closely enough at things, and it was only when my sight began to get worse that I made an effort to soak up as much as I could.

“So now I work on memories, and what my memory can’t supply, my imagination does.

“And that’s where my magic glasses come in.”

“Wow!” she said again.

“That’s cool. So they help you see in your head.”

“They do. I’m sitting here and I’m imagining the band all dressed in black costumes with red piping and crisp white shirts with very shiny golden instruments.

“I’m seeing the trees in all different shades of green.

“I’m imagining you with long hair, probably in plaits, and I bet you have a chocolate ice-cream.”

“I do have plaits and a chocolate ice-cream. That’s amazing!” She giggled.

“Sometimes what you imagine is better than reality.

“Your other senses take over, too, of course, so for me sounds are very important and I can guess a lot from them.”

“I never thought about that.”

She paused and he reckoned she was licking her ice-cream. Then she piped up again.

“Your dog is really lovely. Can I stroke her?”

“If you like. She’s very gentle and has the silkiest coat.”

Fay moved towards Bonnie, crouched down and started to stroke her.

“Grandma,” she said.

“You should get a dog like Bonnie.”

“Well, I won’t need a dog exactly like Bonnie. She’s specially trained to help Bill get around.”

“But look how lovely she is, Grandma. If you got a dog, we could take her for walks and it would be so much fun.”

Mo laughed.

“We’ll see.”

“When Mummy says that, it usually means no.”

“Well, I’m not Mummy, am I?” Turning to Ria, she whispered, “Could you maybe take Fay for a little walk around the park?

“I’d like a word with Bill on my own.”

He couldn’t see Ria’s smile, but he could hear it in her voice.

“Of course, Mum. I think you’re in safe hands. Come on, Fay. There’s something I want to show you.”

“What is it?” Fay said, jumping up excitedly.

“You’ll find out when we get there.”

The two of them walked off together. When they were out of earshot, Mo turned to Bill.

“You’ve given me something very special today, Bill.”

“What? A handkerchief?” he joked, trying to lighten the situation.

She laughed.

“Well, that . . . and hope. The thing is I’ve been focusing too much on everything that has gone wrong for me.

“I’ve been diagnosed recently with a condition that is going to affect my quality of life.

“Not immediately, but over time. I’ve been sitting moping about it, wishing things were different.

“I need to take a leaf out of your book and start enjoying what I have now and being grateful for it, finding the joy in life again, making memories with Ria and Fay. And maybe things won’t be as bad as I fear, either.

“I can’t really know till I get there, can I?”

“That’s the spirit, Mo, good fighting talk. There’s an enormous amount of pleasure to be found in living in the moment, not worrying too much about what lies ahead.

“Even if you haven’t got all your faculties, there’s still so much to enjoy. I can vouch for that.”

“Will you be here next week?” she asked softly.

“Well, I do come here often.” He chuckled.

“I’ll wash the handkerchief and give it back to you next Sunday, then.”

“If you insist. Now, let’s sit back, enjoy the sun and listen to the concert.”

The voice of the bandmaster echoed around the park again.

“And we shall now be playing an ABBA favourite, ‘Thank You For The Music’.”

Bill smiled. He had more than one reason to be thankful.

The chance meeting with Mo had stirred a little bit of hope within him, too.

The End.