Scales and Arpeggios
Shifting his weight from foot to foot at the yard gates, Nero watches the intercom attached to the brick wall until it sounds off a long ‘buzz’ of preperation. He steps back as the gates shift, and gradually creak open. Opening the way into his grandparent’s impressive home.
He treads down the cobblestone path, holding the shoulder strap of his rucksack and having a glance around the always-nice orchard that surrounded the home. A tree here and there, a small pond with a bench, and Nanny’s garden. Tended to by the day gardener, of course. As much as she loved her plants, she simply refused to get soil in her carefully painted fingernails.
Once at the front door Nero lifts and drops the knocker, barely having to wait a minute before one of the house staff answer and polite usher him inside.
Siger is quite contented. Seated in a lush-leather armchair and poised, his fingers interlaced and his eyes closed. Listening alone to the record player that sits on a side-table within an arms length of him, playing a mournful keyboard sonata. This time of solitude is always treasured, and always required at certain times of day. Usually with his wife is either out, or asleep.
The distant sound of the front door knocker drums through the gentle notes and sets him suddenly alert, his eyes snapping open with instant animation. A lean arm extends and removes the needle from the record, ceasing his solitude for another time.
He rises, glancing at the grandfather clock as it just about strikes ten. Ah, the boy in prompt.
