I hesitated before the old oak door unsure whether to go back in. I squeezed my eyes shut and searched for my inner wisdom unaffected by fear. This was for my Gran—her absolute final wish.
The fruity fragrance of the wax seal drifted from the letter and diffused into the air. I opened the door and entered. The baby grand piano came into view. It was such a beautiful species, and the perfect distraction. I ran my hands over its reflective black timber and admired every line and curve; such shapeliness, such elegance.
I sat down, positioned my fingers on the black and white keys and began to play Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. Warmth filled my cheeks as I played the haunting melody and I found myself in a place of complete happiness. The heavy burden of the drawing room and Gran’s final wish lifted from my shoulders and an overwhelming sense of peace settled there.
I could do this.
I stilled at the end of the piece and looked down at the letter sitting in my lap. I held it with a gentleness and stood, then lifted the lid of the piano seat and put the letter there. Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of a small, gold, shiny key.
I picked it up. The letters GK were engraved onto it. Obviously it belonged to Gran Katie. It was oddly shaped, as if a key from olde, and was quite fascinating to look at with its intricate fine detailing.
Did Gran put the key there for me to find?
Perhaps this was her final wish?
And so my search in the drawing room began. I scoured every nook and cranny of the room discovering key holes I never knew existed.
I looked over, around and underneath for a key hole that would unlock with the key, to no avail.
I went to the middle of the room, disheartened from my fruitless search and lied down on the floor there. I stretched and looked up to the ceiling before I tilted my head in the direction of the baby grand piano, noting that its beauty was far less appealing underneath compared to its bird’s eye perspective.
It was there that I saw a keyhole embedded into the timber.
Odd.
Hidden.
And exciting.
I inserted the key into it. As it slid inside I heard quiet clicks, like puzzle pieces falling into place. And then the key shined.
I stared at it in disbelief. My heart raced.
Keys do not create their own light.
There had to be a logical solution. I looked around the drawing room and discovered that the afternoon sun was shining onto the metal pedals of the baby grand piano, and then reflected precisely up onto the key.
I laughed at myself and shook my head at my stupidity of thinking that supernatural occurrences were happening in the drawing room of Gran’s house.
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
But then, the afternoon sun was cloaked by a cloud and the drawing room darkened; and the golden key emitted its own light.
I gasped and my skin prickled. My heart began to pound and an urgency to leave the room as if my life depended on it took precedence.
Trembling, I squirmed out from under the piano and bolted outside to the car where I hurriedly sat inside and locked all of the doors.
I would be safe here. I was sure of it.
For twenty-seven minutes I sat cocooned inside the car, wondering what to do next, trying to compose myself enough to think the events through with presence of mind. I tried to visualize myself returning to the drawing room and positioning myself under the baby grand piano. I tried to visualise a calm me with a strong and steady hand and indestructible presence of being, turning the shining key to open the lock.
But I couldn’t do it.
All the courage I had gained had drained away and I was left with a void; a deep dark void.
I could not return to Gran’s drawing room now, under any circumstances.
Defeated, I removed myself from the refuge of the car and walked towards Gran’s house. I was now officially at the lowest point in my life since moving in.
Guilt overcame me then. Gran had trusted me to fulfill one last wish.
That was all … one last wish.
I wished I knew exactly what it was I had to accomplish. For once, I wished there was an easy solution to the problem, or a solution that did not challenge my intellect or my inner strength and courage. I had had enough of the drawing room.
I kept my eyes focused on the floor when I entered the house and walked towards the old oak door. Logic told me, if I closed the door, whatever it was about the room that had rattled me to the core of my being would stay in there with the secret, and would not filter through to any other part of the house and I would be safe.
The drawing room had pushed me out of my comfort zone and back into my fearscape. I didn’t know whether to move forward and confront it, or to stay put and retreat.
What would I feel comfortable with, and what was the right thing for me to do under the circumstances presented to me?
For now, for me, retreating was the only answer.
So I closed the old oak door to the drawing room with the two secrets, with no plans to open it.