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before Benjamin’s birthday Nelly pointed out that you didn’t have to be a psychologist to see that he was projecting his own dream on to his son.
    Erik quickly booked a series of driving lessons instead. Benjamin was happy, and Simone thought it a very generous gift.
    He was sure he had cancelled the piano lessons. But that morning he had received an email reminding him not to miss the first lesson.
    Erik feels ridiculously embarrassed, nevertheless he’s decided to attend the first lesson himself, to give it a chance.
    The idea of walking off and sending a text to say that he had already cancelled the lessons is whirling round his head as he returns to the door, raises his finger and rings the bell.
    The piano music doesn’t stop, but he hears someone run lightly across the floor.
    A small child opens the door, a girl of about seven, with big, pale eyes and tousled hair. She’s wearing a polka-dot dress and is holding a toy hedgehog in her hand.
    ‘Mummy’s got a pupil,’ she says in a low voice.
    The beautiful music streams through the flat.
    ‘I’ve got an appointment at seven o’clock … I’m here for a piano lesson,’ he explains.
    ‘Mummy says you have to start when you’re little,’ the girl says.
    ‘If you want to get good, but I’m not going to do that,’ he smiles. ‘I’ll be happy if the piano doesn’t block its ears or throw up.’
    The girl can’t help smiling.
    ‘Can I take your coat?’ she remembers to ask.
    ‘Can you manage to carry it?’
    He puts his heavy coat in her thin arms and watches her disappear towards the tall cupboards further inside the hall.
    A woman in her mid-thirties comes towards him along the corridor. She seems deep in thought, but perhaps she’s just listening to the music.
    Her hair is black, and cut in a short, boyish style, and her eyes are hidden behind small round sunglasses. Her lips are pale pink, and her face appears to be completely free of make-up, yet she still looks like a French film star.
    He realises that she must be Jackie Federer, the piano teacher.
    She’s wearing a black, loose-knit sweater and a suede skirt, and has flat ballet-pumps on her feet.
    ‘Benjamin?’ she asks.
    ‘My name is Erik Maria Bark, I booked the lessons for my son, Benjamin … they were a birthday present, but I never told him about the gift … I’ve come instead, because I’m actually the one who wants to learn how to play.’
    ‘You want to learn to play the piano?’
    ‘Unless I’m too old,’ he hurries to say.
    ‘Come in, I’m just at the end of a lesson,’ the woman says.
    He follows her back through the corridor, and sees her trace the fingers of one hand along the wall as she walks.
    ‘I got Benjamin another present, obviously,’ Erik explains to her back.
    She opens a door and the music gets louder.
    ‘Have a seat,’ the woman says, and sits down on the edge of the sofa.
    Light is streaming into the room from high windows looking out on to a leafy inner courtyard.
    A sixteen-year-old girl is sitting with her back straight at a black piano. She is playing an advanced piece, her body rocking gently. She turns a page of the score, then her fingers run across the keys and her feet press deftly at the pedals.
    ‘Stay in time,’ Jackie says, her chin jutting.
    The girl blushes but goes on playing. It sounds wonderful, but Erik can see that Jackie isn’t happy.
    He wonders if she used to be a star, a famous concert pianist whose name he ought to know; Jackie Federer, a diva who wears dark glasses indoors.
    The piece comes to an end, its notes lingering in the air until they ebb away. They’ve almost vanished when the girl takes her foot off the right pedal and the damper muffles the strings.
    ‘Good, that sounded much better today,’ Jackie says.
    ‘Thank you,’ the girl says, picking up her score and hurrying out.
    Silence descends on the room. The large tree in the courtyard is casting swaying green shadows across the pale wooden