‘Hey Jenny.’ Terry beamed at me over Luca’s shoulder, which tensed beneath his shirt as I approached, the worn cotton failing to hide his unease. ‘You wouldn’t believe the number of people who’ve sent me your article. Even the ’lecky I work with was reading it on his phone the other day and I didn’t know he could read!’
‘It was the most popular article on our website last week.’ I bobbed proudly on the balls of my feet like a six-year-old who’d just been awarded a gold star at school.
‘Really?’
‘Really?’ Luca parroted, albeit with distinctly more disbelief than Terry.
‘Yes, really,’ I said indignantly, taking offence at his unspoken implication that I was somehow exaggerating. ‘Speaking of articles, can I steal this one away for a few minutes, Terry?’ I grabbed Luca’s forearm in a vice-like grip as he pretended tospot someone across the other side of the hall.
‘Be my guest. Kiki and I need to make a move anyway. It’s film night and I promised her we’d watchThe Greatest Showman.?.?. again.’ Terry groaned theatrically as he swung Kiki’s bag over one arm, the strap of the bright pinkDora the Explorerbackpack too small to fit around his giant shoulder. I watched him stride over to where Kiki was sat on the floor, tongue sticking out in silent concentration as she performed the very technical bunny ears method on her shoelaces. Luca’s arm jerked beneath my hand but my grip tightened.
‘You just can’t keep your hands off me, can you, Thompson?’ His voice was heavy. Suggestive. Smug.
I snorted in disgust, but something about the way my engagement ring winked up at me against the bare skin of Luca’s forearm made my insides churn and I snatched my hand away, hiding it behind my back. Luca took the opportunity to march over towards the piano where abandoned percussion instruments still littered the floor. I followed him like a disgruntled shadow.
‘Come on, Luca, why do you have to make everything so bloody difficult?’
‘Me? Difficult?’ Luca guffawed but he was stalling, and he knew it.
‘I thought you wanted to get the word out about this place? Or do you not care whether you stay open anymore?’
‘Of course I care,’ he snapped, a lightning bolt of anger flashing across his face. And something about the way his shoulder slumped with defeat told me hedidcare. More than I perhaps realised. ‘What do you want to know?’
I quickly pressed record on the Dictaphone app on my phone, placing it on top of the piano. He recoiled, a muscle twitching in his jaw.
‘OK, let’s just start with an easy one,’ I said gently. ‘How didyou first learn about this place?’
‘My Dadaji,’ Luca snapped. Zero explanation.
I dipped my head encouragingly, but Luca didn’t get the hint. Or perhaps he did, and he chose to ignore it. He sighed wearily, as ifIwas majorly inconveniencinghim.
‘My Dadaji, that’s my paternal grandfather,’ Luca explained, ‘was the one who set this whole thing up, almost 20 years ago.’ His face softened immediately when he mentioned his grandfather, his eyes creasing at the corners with obvious affection. ‘He was a professional piano player turned music teacher back in Calcutta, but he couldn’t afford to requalify when his family moved over here in the 60s, so he got a job as a janitor at the local primary school. The only one he could get as an immigrant.’ His voice was jaded, worn around the edges by the trials suffered by many a generation before him. ‘Anyway, he started helping out with the after-school clubs, eventually volunteering to run a music group. It was nothing fancy, just a couple of kids sitting round an old piano for an hour after school each day whilst Dadaji belted out Elton John and Stevie Wonder. But he saw how much they loved it. How kids that other teachers had just written off asdifficultordisruptivewould blossom, thanks to him.’
‘So, is that where your love of music came from?’ I kept my tone light, but my eyes were curious.
He nodded. ‘Our house was always full of music. I think I learnt to play the guitar before I could even walk.’
‘And what about your dad? Is he a musician, too?’
‘I wouldn’t know. He walked out on us when I was two. Not seen him since. He’s got a whole other family now – wife, kids, Cockapoo.’ I blinked, his emotionless delivery making me question whether I’d heard him correctly, but seeing his knuckles turn white around a maraca confirmed I had.
‘Oh.’ There was a very long pause where neither of usquite knew where to look. I watched his face darken, a frown scrunching his features into an ugly, confused mess. I guess it wasn’t any easier, being abandoned by choice. ‘Well, your Dadaji sounds like an amazing man.’
Luca’s face softened a fraction, his fingers unclenching. ‘He is.’ I breathed a sigh of relief at his use of the present tense. My pen stilled as I reviewed my notes, a big glaring question mark forming on the page.
‘So, how didyouend up here?’ I asked, looking around at the musty hall.
‘The school ended up selling its sports field to a developer, yet more budget cuts, no doubt,’ he muttered with a disapproving shake of his head. ‘But it meant they needed the hall for football practice, so Dadaji had to come up with a plan B.’
‘Giving up wasn’t an option for him?’
Luca shook his head. ‘Not even in his vocabulary. He’s stubborn like that. Like a dog with a bone. Come to think of it, you remind me of him quite a lot.’
My lips pursed but I ignored the blatant dig.
‘So, this was plan B?’ I met Luca’s gaze head on as he waited for a reaction that I refused to give. He nodded, the briefest hint of disappointment that I’d not taken the bait. As though that was our thing, or something. He’d push and I’d push back. A never-ending tug of war.
‘Well, technically it was plan C. Dadaji ran the classes out of our front room for a while, but there were so many kids it wasn’t a sustainable solution. Plus, there was an incident involving a permanent marker and Mum’s William Morris wallpaper that forced him to find this place. It had been empty for years, ever since the council moved into that concrete monstrosity down by the seafront. Believe it or not, it was in an even worse state back then.’
