The Kindness Club on Mapleberry Lane - Part One: A Summer Surprise Read online

  Layla’s tiny body almost disappeared into the cupboard as she got the items Veronica couldn’t reach. She pulled out three white cups with a gold rim, perfect to add a bit of shine in a mosaic pattern.

  Layla, satisfied with her new collection, began to talk about the teddy bear drive, another item on the kindness calendar. ‘We all had to bring in teddy bears that we don’t want or need anymore.’ She looked down at the floor. ‘I took in Boris.’

  ‘The bear I knitted you for Christmas?’

  Layla nodded.

  ‘Now you look sad. What’s wrong?’

  ‘It was a special present – I shouldn’t have given it away.’ She’d knitted the bear with green trousers and red braces, and the December Layla and Charlie were first in Mapleberry, she’d given it as a gift to Layla when she invited her and Charlie over for supper one evening. She knew Layla hated her dad leaving her and working nights and Veronica wanted her to have the bear for a bit of extra security, something to remind her that she was loved and thought of. ‘When you gave me the bear you told me whenever I’m sad that Daddy has to go to work, I’m to hug the bear tight and remember all the people he’s helping.’

  ‘I remember,’ said Veronica. ‘And I also remember your daddy telling me that Boris the bear helped you a lot.’

  ‘He really did.’ Happier now, Layla told her, ‘I slept with him every night and I didn’t cry once. Boris is special … but I think it’s time he helped somebody else now.’

  ‘Well then, that’s incredibly kind, Layla.’

  ‘You knitted me another two bears, so I have enough.’ She had too. And those bears had been over to Veronica’s house for several tea parties, all three of them perched on the floor, bent at the waist, with Layla serving them pretend food on plastic plates, pouring imaginary cups of tea for them.

  ‘We used to get teddy bear donations to the hospital when I worked as a nurse. And it was never the bears that looked brand new or expensive that produced the most smiles, it was the well-loved bears a child had clutched for years and parted with because they were thinking about someone else. It really made a difference to some of those children.’

  ‘Daddy told me that sometimes if a child has to go on an ambulance ride, they might be a bit scared and a toy could help.’

  Veronica smiled. ‘You know, the more I hear about this kindness calendar, the more I love it.’

  ‘I want to do everything on it.’ Her broad smile faded after the next biscuit was demolished. ‘But I can’t.’

  ‘Why not? The things you showed me the other day looked simple enough.’

  Layla took out the calendar from her backpack. She pointed to one of the squares on the calendar and Veronica grabbed her reading glasses to look more closely at the text. ‘Learn a musical instrument. How is that kind? You know, it might be kinder not to learn one. I played recorder when I was your age and my neighbours weren’t very happy about it, let me tell you.’

  ‘Mrs Haines says that as well as being kind to others, we need to remember to be kind to ourselves.’

  ‘Your teacher sounds wise to me.’

  ‘She is,’ Layla responded as though it were obvious. ‘She says she’s starting recorder lessons for the whole class next week.’

  ‘Well there you go, mission accomplished. I don’t see what the problem is, Layla. You can easily cross off the item on the calendar and I’m sure I can order you a recorder online.’

  ‘I wanted to learn something new. I don’t like the recorder.’

  ‘Neither did my neighbours,’ Veronica sighed. ‘What instrument do you have in mind?’

  ‘I’ve always wanted to learn piano.’ She looked down into her lap. ‘Mummy used to play. She played Christmas carols every December at my grandparents’ house in Wales, on their grand piano. I’ve seen her on Daddy’s old video camera tape.’

  ‘Then that’s a special memory for you to treasure always.’

  ‘She had the same hair as me,’ Layla smiled. ‘Daddy says hers was more the colour of Tizer. I don’t even know what that is.’

  ‘A funny fizzy drink.’ She pulled a face that should ensure Layla didn’t try it any time soon. If they even sold it anymore. Veronica wouldn’t have any idea; it was a long while since she’d set foot in a shop to find out.

  ‘Do you think my fingers are long enough to play the piano?’ Layla wondered. ‘My mummy’s were and she always had nice nails.’

  ‘I’m sure your hands are perfectly suited to the piano. Would you really like to learn like she did?’

  ‘We can’t afford lessons and we don’t have a piano at home and school doesn’t have any either.’ Something occurred to her and her face brightened. ‘They have them at the high school though.’

  ‘High school is a long time to wait.’

  ‘Three years and three months.’

  It was a long time since she’d heard the sounds of the piano within these walls, but Veronica knew what she said next would be an incredible surprise for Layla. ‘If you follow me, I may be able to help you.’

  Excited to share in a bit of mystery, Layla followed Veronica towards the study, the room where the door was always shut. No matter how comfortable they were with one another, Layla knew boundaries and she didn’t go into rooms without Veronica’s permission, the study included. It was only a small room and full of files and things that could probably be cleared out, but it was the only room Veronica didn’t spend a lot of time cleaning. In fact, she avoided it. Because sitting inside was the piano she’d had as a little girl, handed down to her from her parents who’d loved the instrument and taught her to play when she was younger than Layla. She’d loved to run her fingers over those keys and as soon as Sam was old enough, she’d taught her how to play too, until Herman had convinced Sam that her studies were far more important than messing around playing a musical instrument. No matter how many times Veronica argued that learning an instrument was good for brain development, hand–eye coordination, the memory, he refused to have any of it. And eventually Veronica stopped playing too because he’d complain it gave him a headache when he tried to work, or it disturbed him. He’d battered all of the enjoyment away for Veronica with his complaining, but now, with Layla, was she really ready to find the magic again? If anyone could help her do it, it was this bubbly little girl.

  When Layla saw what was waiting on the other side of the door to the study, her eyes widened. She stepped forward at Veronica’s approval and lifted the polished wooden lid of the mahogany instrument. The brass pedals matched the shiny brand name on the underside of the lid now that it was open, the keys had lost their brightness in colour but the piano was as intact as Veronica remembered.

  Layla tentatively touched a key and giggled when a sound rang out. She hit another and another. ‘Can you play?’ she asked.

  ‘I used to play, a long time ago.’

  Veronica watched a lot of television for company, and a recent documentary had looked into children who played musical instruments and how it benefited them. They’d moved on to discussing adults who kept up with learning and playing and Veronica had found her jealousy mounting. She’d gone and stood by the piano, eventually sitting down on the stool, but still she hadn’t played anything. What she did do was slam her hands down on the keys and swear out loud, something she never did, berating Herman for the control he’d had over her and the way she’d never fought to be her own person. Everyone deserved that surely. And as his wife, she’d deserved his support. For better or for worse, they’d said those vows, but Herman hadn’t supported her when she was at her worst; he’d tried to pretend it wasn’t happening and his way of doing that was to make her feel small and worthless.

  ‘You have a play,’ she told Layla, ‘I’ll be back in a jiffy.’

  Layla didn’t need telling twice and sat down on the piano stool, which was still filled with all the old music Veronica had once used.

  Veronica stopped before she passed through the doorway. ‘I forgot to ask. How do you spe
ll phenomenon?’

  Layla grinned, eyes upwards as she thought, teeth biting down lightly on the skin beneath her lower lip until she said, ‘P-h-e-n-o …’ She hesitated. ‘m-e-n-o-n.’

  Veronica gave her a round of applause. ‘I knew you could learn it.’

  ‘Do you think I’ll be able to learn how to play the piano as quickly?’ Layla’s voice followed after her as Veronica went to the downstairs bathroom for a breather. It wasn’t often Layla gave her cause to do it, but unveiling the piano and knowing there was no going back – Layla would be persistent after today – it took her a few moments to accept the change. But she didn’t mind the din already coming from the study, it filled the quiet and she’d get used to it. Maybe she could grow to love it.

  Back in the dining room, she had Layla shuffle over so she could sit on the stool too. It was a long time since she’d taught Sam to play and she’d forgotten how to instruct someone on the basics. Already she could feel her fingers twitching; she knew she’d be able to remember the notes. A bit like riding a bike, except this could be done in the comfort of her own home.

  ‘There are so many keys.’ Layla looked daunted as her eyes drifted from one end of the piano to the other. ‘I’ll never remember them.’

  ‘How many do you think there are?’ Layla’s mind ticked over, counting, until Veronica said, ‘All you need to remember for now is that while there are a lot of keys there are only seven names of notes for you to learn.’

  ‘There are way more than seven.’

  Veronica explained exactly what she meant before getting a piece of paper and a pen to draw the keys and write the notes on each of them in a group of seven. ‘You can take this home so you can learn them.’

  ‘What do the black keys do?’

  And as Veronica explained about sharps and flats, octaves and where to position your hands, letting Layla have a play around each time, she found herself enjoying this in the same way she’d been rewarded in her job as a nurse. Looking out for others, nurturing, helping, being kind, was what she missed the most now. Sometimes she got so angry that she’d given it all up. All that time she could’ve still been working at the hospital whether full or part time as she got older, the daily interactions and busyness the very things she loved.

  With Layla here now still enthusiastically hammering out the worst din in history, it kickstarted her spiritedness. She went online and ordered a beginner’s book for learning to play the piano, with exercises Layla could make her way through each time she came, which could be as little or as much as she liked.

  ‘You’ve stopped,’ Veronica said, putting the iPad away. Charlie had helped her order an iPad last year and she’d never looked back. She had a laptop too and used it often, but after some basic lessons from Charlie, she now found this an absolute gem to get things done quickly, especially when she couldn’t get out to the shops – you could buy anything online these days, everything from electronic items to loo rolls.

  Layla shifted from the piano stool. ‘Play something else, Veronica, please.’

  ‘I’m not really sure what to play.’

  Layla lifted up the lid to the piano stool and began rifling through the music in there. ‘These two are Christmas tunes,’ she said, discarding the top two music books. ‘What about this? Who are the Beatles?’

  Veronica let out a chuckle. ‘In my opinion, the best band in the whole world.’

  ‘I’ve never heard them on the radio.’

  ‘Before your time dear, but you will as you get older, I’m sure.’ She nodded for Layla to go ahead and open up the well-thumbed Beatles Collection that Veronica had had since she was first married.

  The music book evoked an avalanche of memories. Back in those Beatle-loving days, everything between her and Herman had been perfect, they were giddy and head-over-heels in love. Back then he’d enjoyed listening to her play music or sing. They hadn’t been able to afford to go to a Beatles concert but he’d had a record player at his house and lazy summer evenings in the garden with the windows to his upstairs bedroom open, they’d listened to track after track, singing along. Herman wasn’t musical at all. When he sang in the shower, it was as though two cats were outside being tortured in the alleyway, but she’d loved listening to it anyway. And he loved how she had perfect pitch if she sang and could rattle out tune after tune on the piano.

  Veronica opened the music book up to one of her favourites, ‘Hey Jude’, and with a deep breath she began. She had a false start and started again, then it began to flow from her fingertips as though she hadn’t neglected the beautiful instrument for years on end as it stood feeling sorry for itself and gathering dust. Her life had changed incredibly since she last enjoyed playing this instrument. She’d gone from being sociable and happy to a woman who shrank away from nearly everything. And now she had a sad measure of daily interactions with only a handful of people – Charlie, Layla, Trevor the gardener, and Ian the mailman, who sometimes hung around for a bit of conversation on the doorstep if Veronica was in the mood.

  Veronica had a problem but she was too scared to do anything about it. Her existence had become sad, contained, like nothing she’d ever imagined.

  She was still playing, her fingers moving deftly along the keys. The piano was well and truly out of tune, but not enough that the song didn’t shine through and the longer Veronica played, the more the sound washed over her like a balm she couldn’t explain. And the more she played, the more she wanted to. Layla was swaying in time with the music, a smile on her face that Veronica returned again and again.

  ‘Another,’ Layla demanded when the tune came to an end.

  She’d have to look up a piano tuner, it would give her something to do when Layla left. But for now, in tune or not, she was on a roll with the piano. It was on to ‘I Want to Hold Your Hand’, which brought some more lively moves from Layla, followed by ‘Yellow Submarine, which Layla joined in with. One of the teachers at her school had taught them the song and she remembered most of the words. Veronica was so enthused by the end of the rendition and playing the piano with such vigour that she almost didn’t hear the phone ringing.

  ‘One day I want to learn to play like you,’ Layla announced as Veronica vacated the seat and she jumped right in her place.

  ‘You will,’ Veronica called back over her shoulder, shutting the door behind her or she’d never be able to hear who was calling.

  In the kitchen she picked up the wall-mounted phone. ‘Mapleberry 459.’ She’d always answered in the same way: the village and the last three digits of her number, never her name. You got so many nuisance calls these days and if they didn’t know her name already, it was a red flag. There were a few of those – requests for bank details, telling you you’d been in a car crash, for goodness’ sake. Funnily enough they hung up when she told them she hadn’t left the house in years, let alone run amok on Britain’s roads.

  ‘Mapleberry 459,’ she repeated when she got no response. She’d been tempted by these nuisance calls to have a whistle handy and blow it down the phone. She would’ve done as well if part of her didn’t know she’d then lay awake for weeks stressing that she’d ruined the eardrums of the scam artist. Probably no less than they deserved but she didn’t have it in her.

  ‘Mum…’ came a voice from the other end.

  Her heart thumped. ‘Sam? Is that you?’ It wasn’t Veronica’s birthday, or Easter, or Christmas, and Sam rarely called unless it was one of those dates. They weren’t close, not by a long shot, but something in the timid way her daughter had said ‘Mum’ had Veronica worrying.

  There was a pause at the other end of the line, and then it all poured out: the loss of Sam’s job, the teenage daughter she didn’t seem able to reach. Veronica knew first-hand about that particular dilemma. She listened as her daughter’s voice wobbled. Veronica wondered: was she crying? As a child Sam had never fallen apart or ended up in tears unless she’d really hurt herself. She’d always had a strong character and rarely let her weaknesses
show through, but there was a hint of vulnerability in her voice now and if Veronica wasn’t mistaken, she was doing her best to hold back a sob.

  ‘Sam, I can’t come up there and help. You know that.’ Her meek reply sounded weak even to her own ears. Her daughter was in crisis and as usual, she couldn’t save the day. By the sound of it, Audrey, the granddaughter she’d not been allowed to get to know apart from a quick hello on their brief visits, had got into trouble and been excluded from school, and according to Sam, that was the tip of the iceberg.

  ‘I don’t expect you to come here,’ said Sam as though it were obvious. Silence hovered between them until Sam spoke up again. ‘I need you to do something for me.’

  Veronica almost spoke but any words dried up before she could say them.

  ‘I don’t ask for much…’ Sam went on.

  She never asked for anything. And Veronica had never been able to help her before. Sam had never once asked her to babysit Audrey or even to step in when one of them was unwell, which must have happened somewhere down the line. Even when Sam got divorced from Simon, she hadn’t reached out to Veronica. The divorce had been revealed on a rare visit by Sam and Audrey when they came to Mapleberry for Auntie Dotty’s funeral, a farewell Veronica had no intention of participating in herself. But it was different for Sam. She’d got close to Auntie Dotty over the years. Dotty, Herman’s sister, had always looked down at Veronica, never approved of her brother’s new wife, and when Veronica showed weakness and could no longer hide her problems, Dotty always had one of those told-you-she-was-crazy looks on her face whenever she stopped by. She’d stepped in to help with Sam though and taken her to after-school clubs, out to the shops so she could buy something before she went out with her friends. Veronica had never been able to begrudge their relationship.