The Mystery.

This chapter is unfinished.

 

Chapter 2.

Lucy followed her grandmother down the hall and into the dining room where the table was set for dinner. The dining room was full of silver ware and had a beautiful chandelier which had been salvaged from Kilkenny castle many years before.

The table was set for three. Gran sat at one side, Lucy on the other and grand-dad sat at the head, on the special chair. Kitty and Brigit brought in the steaming bowls of vegetables and a roast chicken with roast potatoes. There was even a gravy boat, filled with thick steaming gravy. Lucy’s mouth watered. She loved roast dinners.

“So,” her grandfather asked as he carved the chicken. “What did you get up to today?”

Lucy’s stomach lurched. “Oh, nothing in particular.” She said nonchalantly. “I just played in the gardens and wrote in my book.”

“That’s nice.” Replied her grandfather. “I’m glad you’re enjoying your stay. But you’re not too lonely I hope?” he added, looking at her over his glasses as he piled chicken breast onto her plate.

“No, no.” replied Lucy quickly thinking about the attic and the cello. “I’m fine.”

“Good, good.” Her grandfather said then turned to his wife and began speaking about the business. Lucy tucked into her dinner, glad that her grandfather had stopped asking questions. She didn’t want to mention the attic because she didn’t know if she would be allowed up there or not. She could ask Kitty though, she thought.

Following dinner she raced back up to her bedroom to write in her journal. She would have to be careful. She didn’t want anyone to know yet, but she planned what she was going to do. After all one couldn’t go on a proper adventure without a plan, now could they?

 

The following morning she arose very early. Too excited to stay in bed she went downstairs and asked Kitty to make her a boiled egg and brown bread toast. She also asked her to make some sandwiches as she was going to be playing in the top garden.

“Don’t you be going too close to that pond, d’ ya hear me?” Kitty warned. “You know there’s a crocodile that lives at the bottom o’ that? He’d only be too glad ta get his chops around you.”

“Oh Kitty,” laughed eight year old Lucy. “I’m too old for that old story.”

“Are ya now?” asked Kitty with a twinkle in her eye. “Well, you just keep your eyes open girl.” And she put the wrapped sandwiches on the table beside Lucy’s plate and got on with making the breakfast.

 

After she had eaten, Lucy raced upstairs and put her sandwiches in her backpack. Her grandmother was still asleep but her grandfather had gone to work ages ago. Lucy snuck up the long hallway and entered her great grandmother Gertie’s old bedroom. The floor boards creaked loudly so she tried to remember which ones made the most sound. She failed miserably. She didn’t want to wake her grandmother up now! She walked quickly across to the old washroom and opened the doors, trying not to make them squeak. “Its amazing how much noise you can make when you’re trying to be quiet!” she thought as she pushed on the little knob on the side wall. As before the door swung inwards but this time she was ready. She went in quietly and shut the door behind her. These wooden stairs creaked noisily too but she wasn’t sure if her grandmother could hear them or not. She tried to be quiet just in case.

Once inside the attic she made her way straight to the old cello. She sat in front of it and noticed the edge of an old book lying behind it on the floor. She pulled it out and wiped the dust off it with much care. There was a name scrawled on the top of it in ink. She squinted trying to make out the name as the ink had faded somewhat but she finally was able to read it. M J Murphy it read. It was her father’s name! She read it again just to make sure. Yep, it was definitely her father’s. “He never told me he used to play an instrument.” She said aloud. She was amazed. She looked through the pages to see if there was anything else written on it. Apart from a few doodles in the margins there was nothing else. She felt a little disappointed and put the book on the floor. She sat and looked at the cello, properly this time. She had wiped all the dust off of it but as yet had not removed it from its case. She wondered what it would be like to play it except that she had no idea how. The old leather case was looking very tatty but she gently gripped the neck of the cello and manoeuvred it out, allowing it to rest on its spike. She held it and cleaned the rest of the dust off then leaned it against the wall. It was beautiful and as tall as she was, which wasn’t very tall really. She was only eight after all! At the top of the neck was a wooden scroll and beneath them were four wooden pegs. The long slender neck joined the beautifully carved body. There were only four strings. She wondered how it was supposed to be played. It was too big to play like a guitar and much too big to play like a violin. She stood up in front of it and took the neck in her hand, twisting the cello around. It moved easily on the spike which helped it to keep its position on the wooden floor. She wondered if it was played like the big double bass like in her father’s jazz films. She tried it but it sounded awful. Probably out of tune,  she thought to herself. She leaned the cello back against the wall and looked in the book to see if she could find out. She read the instructions at the beginning. Oh, there’s supposed to be a bow! She looked eagerly in the old leather case to see if she could find one and, there, tucked away in a long pocket, was a bow. She felt really excited but couldn’t quite figure out why. When she had plucked the strings and felt the sound it awoke something deep inside her, something exciting and mysterious. It was as though the cello was alive somehow, like her, and she felt an overwhelming urge to learn to play it. The only problem was how to get around her grandmother and how to tell her about the cello she had found. She would have to think about that carefully!

She sat back on her heels and took out her sandwiches. As she ate she looked at the cello and thought. She began to drift and to imagine how her father might have played. She thought about him sitting in the breakfast room, practicing his scales. She wondered who his teacher had been. She would have to find out.

 

That evening, during supper, she sat opposite her grandmother as usual. After they had eaten the main course and were waiting for desert she decided to ask her grandmother.

“Gran,” she said, waiting for her grandmother to answer.  

“Yes dear?”

“Did my father ever play any instruments? You know, like the tin whistle, or the guitar or…….perhaps a cello?” she asked innocently.

Her grandmother shot a look at her grandfather who noticed but didn’t acknowledge it.

“Why do you ask?” queried her grandmother. Lucy felt a chill in the air but didn’t know why.

“Oh I’m just curious.” she said. “Its just that I thought I might like to learn how to play one and I wondered if Dad ever had, you know, when he was a child.” Lucy noticed that her grandmother looked decidedly uncomfortable and it made her even more determined to find out. Her grandfather, on the other hand, said nothing, but sat with his hands clasped on the table, looking stern.

Eventually her grandmother spoke, “I think he might have tried to learn something once but he was too busy with his schoolwork to waste time on music. He had to learn to run the business not spend his time frivolously on pursuits which would not be profitable.”  

“Oh.” Lucy said with surprise, aware that her grandmother was not enjoying this conversation.

“This business was started over a hundred years ago and I mean it to go on.” Her grandfather suddenly said sharply. “In order for that to happen your father had to do what was right by the company and put all of his efforts into maintaining the business.”

Lucy didn’t know what to say and felt very uncomfortable. She realised that it would not be a good idea to ask her grandmother anymore at that point. She’d also lost her appetite.

“I’m not really very hungry for desert.” She said quietly. “May I be excused?”

Her grandfather nodded and Lucy left the dining room. Once outside she closed the door and decided that the best place to be was in her room.

She lay down on her bed and felt miserable. Poor Dad, she thought. I never knew Grand-dad could be so strict.

But even though she was a little shocked it also seemed a little more exciting too. It was an even bigger mystery than she had at first realised. She sat up and took out her notebook and wrote it all down. She also decided on a plan. She felt it would be a good idea if she didn’t mention it to her grandparents again but she would ask Kitty. Kitty had been working for her grandparents since she was 13 years old. 

She would ask her over breakfast. 

 

The following morning Lucy discovered that her grandmother had left early to go shopping. She felt relieved and was able to relax over breakfast. It also made it easier to talk to Kitty, knowing they would not be disturbed. So, between mouthfuls of egg, which was just as she loved it, dripping with butter and pepper, she asked Kitty if her dad had ever played an instrument when he was young.

Kitty stopped what she was doing and leaned against the sink, drying her hands in the tea-towel, her mind drifting back into the past.

“Yes,” she answered, “He did.” Lucy felt excited. At last, she thought. Someone knows something!

“What did he play?” she asked eagerly, not noticing that Kitty was looking sadder than she had a moment ago!

Kitty sighed “he learned how to play the cello.” She said, “But he had to stop because your grandfather wanted him to go into the family business.” She looked so sad now that Lucy could not help but notice it. She waited for Kitty to continue. “He was so good, that boy, so talented, and he loved that cello so much. You could see, just by watching him play, that he loved it. He played it everyday and wanted to be a composer one day. But your grandfather would have none of it. When he saw that your father spent more time with his cello than he did on his schoolwork he forbade him to play it.”

Lucy could feel that sadness in the room and it hurt her heart. She could only imagine how he must have felt. Then she began to feel angry. How could they do that to him? Didn’t they love him? She couldn’t understand how anyone could make someone give up what they loved.

“But why? Why was he not allowed to play anymore? What’s so important about business anyway? She asked heatedly. She never could understand why ‘business’ was so important. It was ‘business’ which took her father and mother away so much and the reason why she was here in the first place. She would much rather be with her parents than with her stuffy, selfish old grandparents any day.

Kitty looked at her and smiled. She thought exactly the same thing. She’d grown up looking after this house and this family and seen many tragedies in it over the years. But she also knew how it worked, how it was supposed to be.

“That’s just the way it is.” She said to Lucy, who was buttering her toast rather fiercely. “That’s the way things are done in this family.”

“But why, why is it the way it is done? Why can’t they change the way it is done? That’s just stupid.”

“What’s just stupid?” a familiar voice asked from the kitchen door. Lucy swung around. She had been so angry she hadn’t heard the footsteps in the hall.

“Dad.” She yelled and ran over to him as he stood in the doorway and jumped up, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Whoa,” he laughed. “You must have missed me!”

Lucy was so pleased to see him but she was also feeling sad and tearful. She didn’t want to spoil the moment though so she tried to brighten up.

“What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming home for ages?” she said and he put her down.

“Oh I just thought I’d come to see how you were getting on with your grandparents!” he said mischievously, and winked at Kitty. “So, having fun? Not bored yet are you? Ooh, toast.” He took a piece of heavily buttered toast and took a huge bite. Lucy’s jaw dropped open in mock indignation.

“Where’s your grandmother then?” he asked.

“Shopping.” Lucy answered. “Again.”

“Ah.” He said knowingly, “So you’ve not been having such a great time then?”

“It’s been alright.” Lucy answered, not wanting to upset him. She knew he worried about her there. “I’ve been exploring.”

“Really, what have you been exploring?” he asked with interest. He shared his daughter’s love of adventure and mystery. She shared her adventures with him while Kitty made a new pot of tea.

“Wow,” he laughed, “You have been having adventures.”

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

This is unfinished but i want to know how easy it is to read. How is the dialogue etc.

Reviews

[Dorchadas]

Beautifully written ~smiles~
Again I love the imagery... you make the reader feel like they're apart of the story so well.
I love how you've developed the characters further, Lucy and Kitty, both Grandparents and the introduction of the father and the family history.
I love that there's a history here, it adds to the mystery and I'm so looking forward to finding out more.
Lovely write ;)