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‘Me too.’ Alex headed out, his head hanging low, his shoulders slumped. Working at The Rose Court Care Home was testing all their resolves, it seemed.
Kate headed over to the window and watched him disappear down the driveway.
Had she done the right thing asking Alex for help? She hoped so. He was bound to encounter people like Hanna in the workplace, so he’d need to get used to handling them at some point. Was that enough justification? She wasn’t sure.
As she headed back to the desk, she became aware of piano music resonating from the lounge next door. She recognised thesong, ‘Mack the Knife’, played in a slow jazz style, with a flurry of improvised runs overlapping the melody.
Intrigued, she headed next door.
A man she hadn’t met before was seated at the piano. He looked distinguished, probably in his late seventies, with curly Afro hair speckled with grey. He sported a neatly trimmed beard and wore a dark blazer over an open-neck shirt, and he gently swayed as his fingers caressed the piano keys.
Hoping not to startle him, she crept closer and leant against the piano, but when he stopped playing, she stepped away, mortified. ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.’
‘You didn’t,’ he said, smiling. ‘You must be Kate?’
‘And I’m guessing you’re… Lucky Larry?’ He was the only resident she’d yet to meet. ‘You play beautifully. Your technique is flawless.’
‘I’ve had lots of practice, been playing for over sixty years. Do you play?’
‘Not to your standard.’
‘Sit beside me.’ He shifted position to make room for her. ‘Know any duets?’
‘Not really.’ She sat down beside him. ‘I can read music, but I’m not very good at improvising. Not like you.’ She watched him resume playing, fascinated by his dexterity and lightness of touch. He played a few chords, his left hand adding a few runs over the top that created a bluesy seductive sound. ‘Where did you learn to play like that?’
‘My mother was a classical pianist. We didn’t have a lot growing up in New Orleans, but we did have a piano. She taught all six of us to play. Said it was our ticket out of there.’
‘And was it?’
He turned to smile at her. ‘Ever heard of Count Basie?’
‘Of course.’
‘I was playing in his orchestra by the age of fifteen.’
‘Wow. Seriously?’ No wonder he was so good.
‘I went on to play for many of the Motown artists during the Sixties. Made quite a name for myself as a session musician.’
‘That’s incredible.’ She watched him play, mesmerised by his technique. ‘How did you end up in the UK?’
‘A woman.’
Kate tutted. ‘Ah, the downfall of many a man.’
He laughed. ‘Not in this instance. Francie was the best thing that ever happened to me.’ He gave her a wink. ‘We moved to her home town of Manchester after we married and I became involved in the Northern Soul scene. You’re too young to remember that era, but it was an exciting time.’
‘I love Northern Soul.’
‘You do? Well, what d’ya know.’
‘They had regular Northern Soul nights at the student uni bar. I always wanted to join in with the band, but I never did.’
‘Why not?’
She shrugged. ‘Lack of confidence. Plus, my boyfriend at the time didn’t want me making a fool of myself.’
‘Sounds like a jerk.’
