Three Letters

For now.

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_378bbf71-6e5c-5ff8-a816-27228a80a182)

OUTSIDE THE FRONT-ROOM Tom paused to listen. Casey had the heart and fingers of a true musician. His technique was not yet perfect, but his artistry was enchanting.

Leaning on the door jamb, his face suffused with pride, Tom murmured as though to the boy, ‘You do your daddy proud, my son. You’re not quite there with the chords, but it’s only a matter of time. More importantly, you’ve got a magic that can never be taught. And that’s what really counts.’

His eyes filled with tears. He despised what he must do. Time and again, he had tried desperately to think of an alternative, but there was none. So now he was resigned; impatient, even, to do the awful deed.

When the music stopped, Tom took a deep breath and gently pushed open the parlour door. ‘That was wonderful,’ he told the boy. ‘I’ve no doubt that one day you’ll make a fine musician.’

Happy to see his father, Casey put aside the guitar and ran to meet him, laughing out loud when Tom swung him in the air before hugging him close.

In that precious moment, with his son close to him, Tom almost lost sight of the path he had chosen. But nothing he could do or say would change what was already set in motion.

‘Was I really good?’ Casey asked when Tom set him down. ‘I asked Mam if I could play the guitar and she said yes. You’re not cross with me, are you?’

Faking a frown, Tom spoke sternly. ‘I should think so! Coming in here, playing my guitar without so much as a by-your-leave! Yes, of course, you’re in trouble. After we’ve eaten, you’re to wash all the dishes, and when that’s done, you’ll set about scrubbing the floor till I can see my face in it. After that, the back yard needs sweeping …’

Casey broke into a grin, and then both he and Tom were laughing out loud. ‘I knew you didn’t mean it,’ Casey giggled. ‘I knew you were only playing. Was I good, though, Daddy?’ he persisted. ‘Did I really play well?’

‘You did, yes. You’ve still a lot to learn, but you’re getting there, and I’m proud of you. Matter o’ fact, you’ve taken to the guitar like you were born to it.’ He ruffled the boy’s thick, brown hair. ‘Y’know what, son?’

‘What?’ As always, Casey hung on his every word.

‘Well, for what it’s worth, I reckon …’ Tom paused, wondering how to put it, ‘… yeah, I reckon the angels must have smiled on you.’

‘Really?’ Casey wasn’t sure what to make of his daddy’s comment, but he thought it might be a good thing.

‘Yes, really.’ Tom looked him in the eye, his voice low and meaningful. ‘I’ll tell you something …’ Then he thought of what he was about to do, and how it would affect this darling boy, and he was racked with pain.

Impatient, Casey caught his attention. ‘Go on then … what were you going to tell me?’

‘Listen to me, son. You must never forget what I’m about to say. I need you to think about it, and believe it. And when you think about it, I want you to keep it in your heart. Can you do that for me, Casey?’

Intrigued and excited, Casey promised. So Tom told him. ‘First of all, I’m very proud of you, Casey. You’re a wonderful son, and I love you so very much.’

‘I love you too, Daddy.’

Tom smiled. ‘Would you like to know something else?’

‘Yes, please.’

‘Well, then. From the first day you came struggling into the world, I always believed that the angels had smiled on you. Y’see, when the angels smile on someone who they think is extra special, they also sprinkle a little bit of magic.’

The boy was mesmerised. ‘Do they? Do they really?’

‘Oh, yes. But they don’t always smile on everyone.’

‘Well, I don’t think they smiled on my teacher, because he shouts and he never laughs, and when the bell goes for playtime, he throws us out in a heap.’

Tom chuckled. ‘I expect that’s because the poor man’s had enough of you by playtime, eh?’

‘Did the angels smile on you, Daddy?’

Tom thought about that. ‘I reckon they did,’ he answered solemnly. ‘Not because they thought I was anything special, but because they gave me an important assignment. Y’see, they wanted me to take care of you. And I’m very happy with that.’

‘So, how did the angels smile on me, Daddy?’

‘Oh, that’s easy.’ Tom felt a mingling of joy and great sadness. ‘When you pick up that guitar and make music, it’s a beautiful thing to hear. You’re one of the few people who can touch the heart and lift the soul.’

He cast his mind back to his own childhood. ‘When I was your age, my daddy – your granddad Bob – taught me to play the guitar. I learned quickly and, just like you, I really loved it. But I could never make the guitar sing quite like you do. I could make people listen and I enjoyed it, but you, Casey, you live it. You’re part of the guitar and together you create a magic all of your own. Believe it or not, there are very few people who can do that. You see, Casey,’ he tapped his chest, ‘when you play, the music comes from deep down inside of you. Something amazing happens, because you have a way of reaching people … of touching them with your music. You make them happy and sad, and uplifted all at the same time. Tell me, son, is that how you feel when you play?’

‘Yes.’

‘So, you understand what I’m saying then?’

‘I think so, Daddy.’ Up to now, he had never told anyone how he felt when he played the guitar. ‘When Granddad Bob plays, it makes me sad, and I want to cry. Then I feel happy and I want to laugh out loud. I want him to play for ever, because it’s …’ Lost for words, he fell quiet for a moment, ‘… Granddad must have the magic, eh?’

Tom smiled. ‘Yes, son. And after the angels had sprinkled the magic on Granddad, they saved some of it for you. The thing is, Casey, you’ve been blessed with a gift that can never be taught.’

‘Does Granddad Bob think the same?’

‘I don’t know; he’s never said, but though you’ve each been given a gift and you play with the same passion, there is a difference between you and Granddad. You see, Granddad Bob never had ambitions to play big halls or travel the world. I would have liked to, but it didn’t work out. But you will. One day, when you’re ready, you’ll take your music to the people, and however long you play for them, they will always want more.’

‘What? Y’mean like when they asked me to play for the Scouts’ party, and they wanted me to play again?’

Tom chuckled. ‘Well, yes … sort of. Only, I’m talking huge halls, like the size of the Ritz picture house, with hundreds of people listening to you play, and afterwards they’ll clap so loud the rafters will shake.’

‘Oh!’ In his mind, the boy conjured up a frightening image. ‘That’s too scary!’

‘All right then, maybe the rafters won’t shake,’ Tom reassured him, ‘but when the people stand up, clapping and shouting, everyone will hear, and then your name will be known across the world. “Casey Denton,” they’ll say, “oh, but he’s got the magic.”’

Afraid and excited and all at once lost for words, the boy didn’t know what to say. What his daddy told him just now, was overwhelming. He could not begin to take it in.

Bringing the exchange to a close, Tom remembered Casey would be hungry. ‘Come on, son. It’s time to put the guitar away.’

A few minutes later, after the guitar was safely replaced in its cubbyhole, Tom took his son by the hand. ‘Now that we’ve set the world to rights, I reckon it’s time we got summat to eat, don’t you?’

He could see how Casey had been astonished by his vision of the future, while he himself had never been in any doubt as to his son’s musical talents. From Casey’s first attempt at playing the guitar, Tom had been convinced that one day his boy would make his mark in the music world.

Casey had been mulling his daddy’s words over in his mind. ‘If they ask me to visit different places away from here, you will come with me, won’t you?’

‘If it’s possible, I’ll be with you always. Everywhere you go,’ Tom answered cagily. He gave Casey a gentle warning. ‘I’m not saying success will be handed to you on a plate. Oh, no! In this world, if you give nothing out, you get nothing back. That’s the way it is, but if you work hard and stick at it, I can honestly promise that, in time, you’ll play the guitar better than I ever did; and, dare I say it, better, even, than your granddad Bob.’

The boy caught his breath. ‘I’ll never be as good as you and Granddad. Never!’

Pausing outside the parlour door, Tom stooped down and, gently wrapping his work-worn hands about the boy’s face, he gave a quiet, knowing smile. ‘We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we, son?’