Gerald Furlong had not seen his elderly uncle for many years and the news of his sudden death came as rather a shock. It was true that his deceased uncle had lived a solitary and reclusive life shrouded in mystery and secrets yet Gerald had fond memories of the times that he used to visit his uncle in his rambling mansion as a child.

Gerald had been married four times and was in between marriages at the time of this story. He was a good-looking man in his late forties with a full head of raven black hair. His features were Mediterranean, owing to his Italian heritage from his mother and he always dressed well playing the part of a human peacock to lure his next wife. He had few morals and marrying for money was a particular past time of his. The vast majority of the woman he met once within his spider’s web of deceit and deception were wined, dined and another notch was placed on his headboard. If they were financially well off he would move their relationship towards the next level and propose marriage. Once the ring was on his finger he would take control of their finances in his favour and once the money was spent the wedding bells were silenced and divorce proceedings started.

One morning Gerald was sitting alone at the breakfast table finishing a large pot of coffee. He was reading the financial section of the newspaper when the doorbell rang.

"Good morning Mr Furlong. I have a recorded delivery letter for you. It has a solicitor’s label on it," the postman remarked cheerfully.

"So it has. Thank you Gerry."

Gerald signed the docket and closed the front door quietly, a force of habit when returning to the nest after a long night. He returned to the breakfast table and used the knife, smeared with butter and breadcrumbs to open the letter. He read that the letter was from ‘Binckley and Tattershall Solicitors’ and was entitled ‘The Estate of the late Sir Brian Furlong of Alderley, Sussex.’

It took Gerald some time to digest the contents of the letter but he soon realised that he was going to be the owner of his late uncle’s pianoforte. He would have rather had the estate but beggars could not be choosers under the circumstance.

By the end of the week the piano arrived and was placed unceremoniously in the drawing room. The concert grand piano was rather larger the he had ever imagined and Gerald had to remove one of his three sofas to make room for this prize specimen. It was Gerald’s wish to dispose of this monstrosity as soon as possible but not before discovering its full market value.

The following week Gerald arranged for three piano dealers to call. The first was unimpressed and offered him just £500 to take it away. When Gerald refused the dealer became agitated and offered a slightly larger sum. This raised Gerald’s suspicions and he dismissed him quickly.

The second dealer examined the piano carefully. He lifted the lid and checked the serial number against a list contained within his filofax. Gerald watched the colour drain from the man’s face.

"Where did you get this piano from, Mr Furlong?" he asked.

"It belonged to my late uncle who was a bit of a music buff," Gerald replied casually. "Anyway how much is it worth?"

The dealer remained silent for a few seconds considering his words carefully.

"To a true collector about £500,000. This is a limited edition Bluthner ZK500 and only ten were ever made, mostly for the crowned heads of Europe at the turn of the 19^th century. You see that the serial number is 005. This is the 5^th one of the series and it is very rare. According to my list this was made for none other than Serge Rachmaninov the famous Russian pianist and composer."

"Was he the man that wrote the music for the film ‘Brief Encounter’?"

"Yes his second piano concerto was featured but not commissioned for the film. You have a true collector’s item here Mr Furlong. If I were you I would cherish this wonderful instrument and savour its history. It is reputed that Rachmaninov wrote all four piano concertos on this instrument. May I play your piano?"

"Be my guest."

The dealer removed his jacket and pulled up the piano stool. He raised the shiny black piano lid

and started the play. A most beautiful sound emerged from the belly of the instrument and various ornaments vibrated in sympathy with the music. Gerald was no musician but he appreciated the quality sound as he left the room to fix a drink.

From the kitchen he heard the piano increase in dynamic and speed and he imagined the dealer’s fingers and hands moving at speed to play the semi-quaver passage in octaves. As he returned to the room the music stopped and the dealer remained motionless staring into space.

"Would you like a drink?" asked Gerald. "Mr Broadwood, I asked if you wanted a drink?" Gerald placed his hand on the man’s shoulder and he leaped from the piano stool.

"What was I playing? I have never played that music before in my life?"

"I cannot help you there. I only recognised your first piece the Paganini Variations. After that it was all new to me," replied Gerald.

To read the rest of this story send me an email...

5^th July 2003.

Ó 2003 J. T. Douglas – all rights reserved.