Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Ada poured herself another gin and listened to her grand-daughter playing the upright piano. Brahms’ Piano Concerto No. 2 in B flat major. The notes fell in a perfect torrent from the ten-year old’s fingers, and Ada was once more reminded how grateful she was to have Lucy at all. She’d been convinced for twenty years that Harold was gay.
The music softened and then rose to a resounding crescendo which made the decanters on the sideboard ring. Lucy turned around, her face shining with anticipation. “What did you think, Gran?” she asked.
“Very nice, Lucy dear.” Ada patted her knee. “But I was never fond of Brahms. Can you play Liszt?”