Chapter two: How about some music to lighten the mood?

I’m getting squashed by the droves of people as we get pushed into the parapet.
The church is big and tall, the sound of singing bounces off the walls and reaches my ears from every angle.
The familiar smell of incense tickles in my nose.
Mommy keeps me close to her as we pass the wooden benches.
“Miss Tavish.” the voice is Father Belamy’s, the pastor in this place.
“It’s good to see you Father Belamy”
“I hope you’ve been well?”
“Exceedingly, thank you.”
“And little George. How have you been holding up?” The man’s voice sinks to my level. I appreciate that.
“I miss my sister.” I tell him truthfully.
Mommy squeezes my hand disapprovingly.
I can hear the voice of the man turn away from me again “Ah yes, may the good one grant her fortune for her sacrifice.”
I don’t think she was the one making a sacrifice…I think mommy did that for her. But I can’t speak ill of her. She seems pretty annoyed already.
Above me, the pastor whispers “Is he up to play today? It’s only been six months.”
Mommy doesn’t bother matching volumes as she simply states “It’s fine, playing helps him get his mind off things.”
“Oh, that’s good then.” a hand ruffles my curly hair. “I’ll let you know when you get to play.”
I nod obediently “Thank you Father Belamy.”
Mommy takes my hand and helps me up the steps.
I like being high up, people can’t talk down to me when I’m high up.
Mommy helps me find the stool and sets me down. I reach my hands out to the wooden keys in front of me. My feet look about for the pedals.
“Not yet darling, the vicar needs to speak first”
“I know.” I just want to know they’re there.
The pastor starts to speak, long sermons of love and sacrifice. Of ethics and the good that comes to the virtuous while bad comes to those who only mean harm.
I wonder if daddy truly believes. If he did he’d have been a better person right?
But I was good and so were Donna and mommy.
So why did daddy take Donna away?
Why was he allowed by the good one to do such a heinous deed?
Someone should have intervened. A messenger, a signal, something to scare my father into being a good person.
But instead, there was nothing.
And now she’s gone.
“-And now little George will play a piece of music for us on the organ.”
“That’s your cue.” Mommy tells me impatiently.
“Yes, I know.”
I hit one of the keys sending a long a-note through to underneath. The rest of the notes crystallize around that a as I feel the keys. This should be a c, this a d. I strike the pegs with enthusiasm.
“Sweetie?” mommy asks me uncertainly.
I smile.
And then I start to play.
It’s not a difficult song, it’s cheerful, bright, bubbly and nice.
By the time I am done people clap and when I come down people tell me ‘Good job.’
I’m glowing with pride.
My mommy hugs me.
We sit down again and the pastor continues his sermon.

Mommy likes to go and drink tea with the ladies of the church, dragging me along with her as she gossips and chats.
The ladies are nice, but they never talk to me.
They talk about me, how much I’ve grown, how I’m turning into a ‘fetching young lad’, but they never talk to me directly.
I just drink my tea and listen to the stories and wait for mommy to be done again.
And then we go back home.

“I’ll start cooking.” Mommy says and she walks to the kitchen.
I follow her, sitting down on a stool and listening to the soft rhythmic tapping of her knife.
“Mommy?”
“Yes, George?”
“Why did the good one take Donna away from us?”
The chopping stops abruptly, only to pick up again a moment later as she explains “The good lord didn’t, your father did.” her voice is bitter now.
“But, the good lord let it happen. He didn’t stop him or punish him-”
“We don’t know that. Maybe your father is miserable now. Maybe he’s living in a ditch.”
“But then Donna is miserable too.”
The knife slides over the chopping board. Pushing chunks of something into a pot of cold water.
The chopping board thumps on the counter.
“Mommy?”
Then footsteps walk towards me and mommy’s arms wrap around me as she says “I also wish Donna was here. But there was nothing I could do to stop that man from taking her. And trust me, I pray every day for her safe return. We just have to be patient.”
I don’t know what to say. I wanted her to fight for Donna. But daddy is a scary man. I wouldn’t want to fight him either. “I, I pray for her too.”
“Good, see, it’ll be okay, as long as we have each other.”
I smile for her sake but I don’t feel much relieved.
We may still have each other…
But I want to see my sister.

After dinner mommy sits down on the couch to sew.
She repairs the habits and cassocks of the people at the church so they’ll help us pay for this house that’s far too big for just the two of us.
The house is expensive, I wonder how just sewing is enough to pay for it.
But I’m afraid that I ask about it it breaks some sort of spell.
And then we need to move.
So I keep it for myself instead.
Because I want to live here.
As long as we live here instead of elsewhere, Donna can find us.
She can come back once we’re both grown up and we can go far away from here together.
“George?”
“Yes, mommy?”
“how about some music to lighten the mood?”
“Yes, mommy.”
I get up and walk to the piano.

Every night after dinner mommy tucks me into bed I wait for her to walk to her room.
Then I pull the cover out from under me and tiptoe to my sister’s bed.
I pull her blanket tightly around me. Pretend she’s still here.
And pray.
I pray for her safety, for her health, for her happiness.
And that she may return one day.
I pray until I fall asleep.
And wake up in her bed again.