A Lover of Music

Spring is always a time of hope and renewal. This had been the first time Janet had sat down at the piano since Tom had gone. It was like she had been in denial, afraid to play the melodies that had once so enraptured him, lest her emotions got the better of her and the awful pain of loneliness would consume her once again.

He so used to enjoy her playing. Quite often on a Sunday afternoon, after a morning in the garden and a lovely beef roast and rice pudding lunch, he would settle himself in the leather armchair with a glass of Brandy and listen to Janet play for half-an-hour or so. It was like her own personal recital to him. She would start off with perhaps a bit of Mozart, move on to Debussy and Bach, and finally end with a couple of Tom's favourite piano sonatas by Schubert.

The lilting music would take him down, relax him while he twirled and warmed the brandy glass between his palms. It was his favourite time of the week, and just for a moment Janet dared to look at the now empty chair that stared back at her from across the room. A memory of him, sitting there with his eyes closed, totally absorbed in the music came to her.

She took a deep breath, flexed her fingers and began to play a piece by Debussy that she knew by heart. Perhaps that would get her into it again. Her articulation was a little stilted to begin with, but after a moment or two her fingers loosened-up and began to dance across the keys like they had never been away.

One time Tom actually said to Janet, "Darling, you're playing has the power to raise the dead."

She was in the middle Bach's Air on a G String when something caused her to look over to the open window. A flash of black and white had caught the corner of her eye and when she turned her head to look, she saw a cat standing nonchalantly on the window sill, half-in and half-out, arching its back and staring at her with intense green eyes. She stopped playing. Its purr was so loud and urgent she could hear it from where she sat.

"Hello," she said. It was a lovely cat, clean-looking and bright-eyed. He had a little patch of black over the left eye and for a moment it made Janet think of a pirate ready to storm her ship. He was swishing his tail back and forth and looking at her imploringly. "I wonder who you belong to?" she said, getting up from the piano and crossing the room. But the cat suddenly took flight and by the time she had reached the window she was just in time to see it disappearing under the bushes in her garden. "Oh, I see," she said, poking her head out of the window after him. "That was just a fleeting visit, was it?" But apart from a slight movement of leaves in the bushes, there was now no sign of it.

Janet smiled and sighed, feeling disappointed that the cat had gone off so quickly. She only wanted to make a fuss of it and enjoy its company for a moment. But on reflection, she thought that perhaps it was for the best. It probably belonged to someone on the estate and she shouldn't really be encouraging it.

She went back to the piano, got some sheet music from the stool and placed a score by Mozart in the music rest. It was a tricky piece, with some complex passages and she felt that with the music in front of her, it would just prompt her now and again when needed.

This time the music simply flowed from her fingers. In fact she hardly had to refer to the music at all. Just as she finished a noise at the window got her attention.

"Meoowww!"

She looked up across the room to see that the black and white cat had returned, only this time it had been a little braver, venturing inside and sitting on the wide ledge of the large bay window, licking its paws. This time Janet remained seated, she didn't want to alarm it again. It would be nice to enjoy its company for a while. The cat stopped licking its paws and looked at her with an expression that seemed to be asking for more music

And so she obliged.

She next played something by Schubert. Once again it was a piece she knew well and had played many times at Tom's request. It had been one of his favourites.

Her visitor seemed to really like this piece. He got up on all fours and arched his back and when Janet entered into a particularly pleasing sequence, his ears pricked up and he looked to be in absolute ecstasy.

"Well, well," said Janet to herself, "a music lover!"

When she had finished the cat looked kind of disappointed. She then chose Debussy, a fast and slightly strident number that had the cat glaring disapproval. It yawned and began washing itself.

"Well, okay," she said, "so you didn't like that one so much. What about a little Bach?" And she immediately went into a largo that had the cat's attention. But before long it seemed to lose interest and turned its back to her.

"Well, you certainly know what you like and don't like, don't you, puss? You liked Schubert just now, so I shall try another." And to her amazement, the cat seemed to sit up on hearing the music and take notice. He turned back around and looked at her through half-closed green eyes. "You approve then?" she said. The cat gave a little mew and licked its lips in anticipation. She did not disappoint him... he definitely liked Schubert the best.

After a while she went over to the cat. This time he allowed her to stroke him. She felt him arch his back in appreciation as she ran her hand along his spine. She tickled under his chin and scratched behind his ears, all of which he enjoyed immensely.

"So, who do you belong to, puss?" And she felt around its neck in search of a collar which might reveal a name and address tag. But there wasn't one. "Well, I'm sure you belong to somebody, so off you go, young man. I have to close the window now; it gets a bit chilly this time of the afternoon."

She watched him walk across the lawn and head for the same hedge that he had previously dived under. She felt an odd tinge of regret at his leaving, but she was certain someone else would soon be missing him.

Janet didn't see anything of the cat again until she decided to have another go at the piano a few days later. It was another fine spring day and warmer than last time, so she once again had the window open. She had only got part way through her second piece of music, by Schubert again strangely, when he hopped through the window and curled up on the floor. He looked so contented, purring away, stretching and washing himself. By the time Janet had finished playing he was fast asleep. Once again, reluctantly, she had to send him home for its tea.

It turned up no less than five times during the next two weeks, and always only when Janet sat down to play the piano. It never appeared at any other time. She concluded that he must be drawn to the music and particularly music by Tom's favourite composer -- Schubert. So that settled it... Janet would have to call him Schubert.

Schubert had become so at home, he'd now taken to curling up on the leather armchair that was once Tom's. The cat was getting increasingly reluctant to leave her when it came to sending him home, or at least on his way, and she in turn was becoming increasingly attached to him. She enjoyed his company; he seemed to make the bungalow feel more homely and 'lived-in' again. Janet felt happier than she had been in a long time.

One evening she didn't have the heart to turn him out, because it was raining quite heavily. "All right, Schubert," she said, "You can stay for one night and one night only, but you'd better behave yourself."

And that was the start of it. Schubert didn't appear to have a regular home, so Janet found herself adopting him. She loved his warmth on her lap, watching him sleep on the window sill, or lying curled up in Tom's chair. Now she was buying food for two in her weekly shop. He had really settled down.

A fantastic thought then occurred to her. Because of the way the cat responded to the music that she played, might it just be possible that..? No, it was an absurd thought and she tried to push it out of her mind. But the idea, crazy as it was, niggled away at her.

What if Tom had come back to her as a cat? It was of course absurd, but somehow the thought gave her hope, comfort and happiness... the possibility that her husband Tom was still with her.

But then one day, about a month later, something happened that threatened to wreck her new-found happiness. She was reading the 'lost-and-found' personal column in the local newspaper. She had always done this, out of respect for other people's feelings and what was rightfully theirs, ever since the cat had taken up with her on a more permanent basis. Somebody somewhere must be missing him.

And then her eyes fell on a little picture that had been inserted into the column. It was a picture of a black and white cat that looked exactly like Schubert, it even had a patch of black over one eye. The message said Toby had gone missing after this family had recently moved into the area. It was what she always dreaded, but the reality she was always new she might face sooner or later. Her heart sank.

She folded the paper around the contact number at the bottom and looked at Schubert, curled up asleep in Tom's chair. "I've got to give you back, boy. I really don't want to let you go. But I have to." And she felt a tear slip down her cheek as she walked to the telephone with the paper in her hand.

"Hello?" said a friendly female voice at the other end of the line.

Janet's tummy did a little flip-flop. "Yes, h-hello. Is that Mrs Bellamy?"

"Yes. Who's speaking, please?"

"My name's Janet Carter. I understand you're missing a cat..?" The other end of the line fell silent for a second or two.

"I'm sorry?"

"Your cat... Toby? I have him here."

"There must be some mistake. Toby came back three weeks ago. He'd got locked in a neighbour's garage while they were away on holiday. He's fine now."

Janet felt suddenly elated and relieved; she would have loved to been able to give the lady a big hug right at that second. "Oh, I see... I mean that's really good news. I'm sorry to have troubled you, only..." Janet thought it best to stop rambling, so she simply thanked the lady and said goodbye.

When she got back into the sitting room she wanted to pick Schubert up and give him a big hug too, but he looked so blissfully happy sleeping in Tom's chair and she didn't have the heart to disturb him.

"It looks like we're stuck with each other after all, Schubert." Janet's eyes misted with more tears, but this time they were tears of joy. She kneeled on the carpet and gently played with his silky ears. "Or perhaps I should be calling you Tom."

And at that very moment Tom's eyes came open and then half-closed in a contented smile. He had found his way back home after all.

THE END