Chapter 27
Theadora
Thepianosituatedat the back of house meant I could practice to my heart’s content. As someone who preferred privacy when playing, this suited me well. It was this reluctance for an audience that had stood in the way of my becoming a performer. That was apart from my disruptive upbringing. My mother hated me playing because I drew attention to myself.
Looking out over the forest, the room offered a relaxing ambience when practicing repetitious scales. Nothing but trees and sky to look at. I’d landed in heaven.
That’s how my life suddenly felt. Helped by the sexy, handsome man who couldn’t take his hands off me.
As I lifted the lid, the smell of wax polish flooded me with memories of practicing at my grandmother’s. I loved visiting her cottage in the Cotswolds, which gave me a break from the tension at home. I could almost be myself there. I didn’t lie in bed stressing every time I heard footsteps or look over my shoulders while in the bathroom. The day she died was the day I fell apart.
Running up the black and white keys, I couldn’t believe how perfectly tuned the piano sounded. Declan had mentioned that small detail. His eyes shining bright as though knowing I’d be excited. I hugged him. He’d done so much for me, and now this—a perfectly tuned piano away in a secluded part of the hall.
I kept questioning where we were heading. My head was filled with him.
On one hand, he didn’t want to call me his girlfriend, while on the other, he asked whether there were men in my class.
I reassured him that they were younger than me.
And why would I want a boy when I had a man? I kept that question to myself.
Declan wouldn’t be easy to replace. The things he did to my body. He had a sixth sense when it came to pleasure points, which seemed to be all over my body. He was insatiable. But then, so was I.
It felt odd, our secret little affair. Since that London stay at the hotel, we hadn’t stayed apart one night.
I’d cycle over to Declan’s. He even hated me doing that. He’d offered to buy me a car, but I rejected his offer, making him promise not to.
After he’d driven me to school, students spotted him dropping me off, and that got them curious. I shrugged it off, and now I had girls wanting to be my friend so they could learn all about the happenings at Merivale.
I just told them he was heading in that direction. It was getting a little tricky keeping us a secret.
Declan kept asking me to take his offer of an apartment close to school, and for me to leave Merivale. After everything that had happened in my life, I’d made myself a promise to remain independent.
What if something happened to this arrangement with Declan? The thought of which made my heart shrivel into a pea.
After warming up, I practiced Debussy’s “Claire de Lune,” which I was to be marked on.
Most students had chosen songs from musicals and even pop, but I loved playing classical. Tradition had always been important to me.
Maybe my mother’s rich tastes had rubbed off on me subconsciously, seeing how she held the upper-class establishment in high regards to the point of elitism.
She would have loved the fact I worked for the Lovechildes. I could imagine her asking questions about décor and clothes and all those things that mattered little to me.
Lost in the moment, I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, I was startled to find Mrs. Lovechilde standing at the doorway.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I being disruptive?” I asked.
Dressed in a jacket and fitted skirt with her hair in a chignon, she reminded me of every other wealthy woman I’d ever seen. It was like a uniform spelling wealth.
“Continue. I’m rather fond of Debussy,” she said, coolly. “I didn’t realise you were actually deft.”
“I’m having to be marked on this piece as part of my college degree. I really appreciate your letting me use this fine instrument.”
She lifted her chin and studied me.
“Declan… I mean Mr. Lovechilde, mentioned you used to play,” I said, making small talk since she lingered.
Her eyes ploughed into mine.