Catherine The Musician

One hour 34 minutes, and 17 seconds... no big deal...

On New Year's Day 2009, I made a resolution to FINALLY learn to play Clair de Lune on the piano before the end of the year.

It is now one and a half hours until 2010. And I am yet to master it.

I know, I know. A whole year to practice, and I'm cramming in a bunch of practice in the last lap of 2009. Don't judge me. I was busy.

Well, sort of.

It all started so well.

My late Grandma owned a piano that her father gave her as a child. She was a fantastic pianist. She was one of those people who could hear a song and know how to play it themselves. She could get anybody up and dancing to her vast collection of tried and tested pieces we knew so well. Even I fell into that mindset of, 'Surely, I could play the piano. It looks so easy when she plays.'

Yes. When SHE plays.

After a year of stubbing my fingers on the keys (don't ask), closing the piano lid on my fingers (again, don't ask), and sometimes, to reignite my motivation to practice, pressing random keys half standing half squatting and peeking my head over the piano top and into where the strings are to childishly delight in seeing the line of each key pop up, I quickly realised this to be very accurate.

My Grandma can play very well.

My Grandma was 86 and started playing at 7. 79 years to reach perfection. I gave myself a year. I was hopeful.

Ok, I was ignorant.

Fast forward, Grandma died, and who would have thought it! She left the piano to me! Me! I can barely hold a tune with my voice, never mind play one on the piano.

Thus, the family found this turn of events entertaining when such news came out.

Catherine and a piano.

'Catherine The Musician.'

I can see them all laughing at the thought now.

Needless to say, this rubbed me the wrong way. So, I made the bold and idiotic proclamation this past year that by the end of the year, I would have Clair de Lune (Grandma's signature piece) mastered and ready to play to ring in the new year.

With just over 1 hour left of 2009, with all my family meandering between the living room and kitchen, drinking cocktails, eating snacks, and joking together, I see the error of my ways.

It was late at night, with lots of food and drink, family poking fun at me, and New Year's resolutions to make.

You get it.

It all added up to an overly confident goal for the year.

I shake my head to pull myself out of the pit of regret and stop thinking of achievable goals I could have made instead.

Handwrite a letter and post it. Aww, that would have been done in no time. Bake a potato correctly the first time without having to prick it repeatedly and reheat it.

That might have been harder.

Sorry! Stop! Back to practising. C, G, B flat, A, eh, Fudge! I sigh and stand up from the stool to stretch for the 17th time.

'Almost ready?' I jump mid-stretch and look to the door to see my smug cousin John poking his head around the door with a sly smile. Knowing my luck, he probably heard the Fudge as well as seeing the stretch. Great.

'Yep, just practising to ensure I nail it for you all.' I confidently declare back.

Not technically a lie as I AM practising, just not with such certainty of perfecting said practice.

'Very good. Very good. Because we're all excited to hear you play, it's been a while since we heard that piece played live. I have to admit I'm pretty impressed. I didn't think you'd stick at this.' John then proceeds to step forward into the doorway and, leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed and even smugger, seems set on remaining there for a while.

'Can I help you?' I ask through gritted teeth.

'No, I just wanted to get a sneak peek at the master playing.' How was he so confident in my lack of ability? Irritating.

'Well, tough luck.' I retort, 'No one hears anything until I say.' I look up at the clock on the wall above the piano. 11:15 pm.

Yikes. Only 45 minutes left.

John follows my eye to the clock and gives a knowing smile. 'See you at midnight!' He triumphantly declares while pushing himself up from the doorframe, strolling out of the room and back to party central.

I turn back to the piano and fumble about some more. I have parts of the piece down; I stumble over some key areas every time. I groan again, palm my hands onto the keys, and wander the room.

The house I live in now used to be my Grandma's. She sold it to me before she downsized into her one-story cottage a couple of years before she died. Despite having lived here alone for almost two years, I still have a few objects from Grandma that I've never looked into.

I told her to leave her extra stuff with me when she moved, so she didn't have to throw everything out, and also, selfishly, I liked the idea of looking through her belongings from long ago and seeing more of who she used to be.

In this room specifically, which I now use as a home office, I have a small old chest of drawers of hers that I've never looked through. Grandma never mentioned wanting anything from it after she moved, and I didn't get around to digging through it.

What better time than at 11:30 pm on New Year's Eve when I should practice the piano?

I settle cross-legged in front of the old chest and pull out drawers. The bottom one is of no genuine interest. There are just some old packets of tissues, a newspaper article about a Church fete from 1978, and the usual pens in every drawer. The next one contains a few photos; some of my mum when she was a child, some of me as a little girl, and some of old Spike, the family dog that passed just before Grandma.

As I reach the top drawer, it sticks a little as I try to open it. I pull a little harder, and it still sticks. I stand up, place both hands on the drawer handle, and pull.

Apparently, I pulled too hard.

The drawer flies open, I fall back, and the drawer drops to the carpeted floor.

Oops.

I right myself and look to see what was in the drawer.

It's empty.

How?

I couldn't open it without considerable force, yet it was empty.

I get a bit bummed out and sit back down on the floor.

As I raise my head from the empty drawer, I look up towards the chest it came from. I notice a corner of something visible in the top right of the space, where said drawer once was. I assume it's part of the drawer that has come loose, but I go to check it anyway. As I get closer, I notice a shine to the object.

I reach in and pull on the corner. After tugging, it falls out, and I catch it. Pulling it out, I realise that it is an old disc. On the disc, it reads, 'Martha Playing'. Martha was my Grandma's name.

What could it be?

My Uncle did go through old family photos and videos and put them onto discs for us all to keep, so this could be one of them. I get my laptop over from my desk, eyeing the piano as I do so.

I'll get back to that in a minute. I think to myself.

I put the laptop on the floor, turn it on and open the disc player. I put the mystery disc in and wait as it loads.

Next thing I know, I'm watching a recording of the living room of what is now my house but back when it was Grandma's! The camera focuses on the corner of the room with the piano, but no one is there. I keep watching for about 30 seconds, but nothing happens.

I go to stop it when suddenly Grandma appears out of the corner of the camera and walks towards the piano!

'Go on. For me. Please?' Somebody pleads off-camera.

'Just for you, Roger. Just for you.' My Grandma teases back.

I can't believe my ears. Roger was my Granddad, who died ten years before my Grandma. He must have been playing with an old camera and asked Grandma to play something while he filmed.

She sits down ever so gracefully at the piano. She looks straight at the camera and then above it and smiles. I wipe away a tear, having not realised I had started crying. Grandma turns back towards the piano and begins to play…

Yes, you guessed it. Clair de Lune.

She plays it effortlessly. Her hands rising and falling with the melody, perfect timing, amazing poise. She nails it as always.

The camera suddenly jolts a little as if someone is setting it down. Suddenly Granddad appears in front of the camera and walks over to Grandma, who is still playing. He puts his hands on her shoulders and kisses her head.

'Thank You.' He whispers into her hair. She stops to put her right hand on top of his.

'You're welcome.' She softly replies.

The camera suddenly cuts to grey. The battery must have died or something.

I wipe away yet another tear and start to turn off the video.

Then an idea strikes me. I squeal a little to myself.

Yes! Perfect!

I clamber back to the piano, then turn and grab the laptop off the floor. I then begin to run down the hall towards the now boisterous family.

On my way there, I bump into John, who jumps to the side of the hallway to escape.

'Whoa, what's the rush? Trying to escape before midnight so you don't have to play?' He says jokingly. I turn to face him, and he notices my tear-stained face.

'Catherine, what's wrong? You know I've just been teasing you, right? I'm actually a bit jealous that your New Year's Goal was so much more honourable and heartfelt than mine. Mine was to try kale. I mean, what kind of a goal is that, and I haven't even – '

I cut him off before he blathers on.

'No, John, I'm not crying because of you. I'm crying because of this.' I shout whilst holding the disc cover aloft.

'Why? What's that? One of Uncle Steven's old discs that he made? What's on it?' John reaches for the disc cover, but I quickly pull it back.

'No, wait. Come and sit with the others. I have something to show you all.'

I rush to the living room without checking to see if he is following.

As I reach the living room, I rush in and begin setting up and connecting the laptop to the TV screen, which shows a freezing man in some random town square telling us there are 10 minutes to go until 2010. The man disappears as I connect the laptop, leaving a grey screen.

I flail my hand around behind me at my now complaining relatives.

'Just give me a second. Trust me. It's worth it.' I shout over the uproar.

Next thing, the camera footage pops up on the screen.

'Hey! Isn't that this room but when Grandma lived here?' shouts my cousin Rachel.

'Yes, it is.' I breathlessly reply.

The uproar brought the rest of the family from the kitchen, so now everyone is gathered.

'What's all this about?' asks my mother.

I stand up, adjust my jumper, and face my family, all looking at me with confused and expectant faces.

'Well, as you all know, I made the goal at the start of this year to play Clair De Lune for you all on the next New Year's Eve.'

'Yes, and we can't wait to hear you play!' exclaims Aunt Clair (Yes, she was named after the piece).

'Well, I'm not going to play it now.' I started (despite knowing the imminent reactions) with all the conviction I could muster.

'What!', 'Why?', 'Oh, Catherine! I was so looking forward to this!', 'You said you'd practised.'

I let the craziness die out before I begin my explanation.

'Hear me out.' I speak. 'I'm not playing Clair de Lune tonight because I found someone more qualified to play it for us all.'

'Who?' asks John. 'None of us can play?'

'Grandma.' I simply state.

And with that statement, I move from standing in front of the TV screen, revealing the camera footage and press play on my laptop.

The 'Oh's and 'Ah's that then commence are music to my ears.

I look around the room as everyone takes in the magical scene I witnessed.

The scene I see is also quite magical.

As the footage abruptly turns grey. Everyone glances over at me. Not a dry eye in the room.

In the distance, the church bells are heard. Declaring a New Year has begun.

'Happy New Year, everyone.' I say, bursting with joy.

'Happy New Year!' Everyone shouts in return.

We all clap for Grandma's playing. She always loved that.

I'll learn the piece for the next New Year. I promise. Maybe.