The old man saw my notebook and smiled at me.
'Don't tell me. You're a reporter. Which newspaper
do you work for?'
'The Sunday Times, sir.'
'A very good newspaper. Come in and sit down. Ask
your questions. We were young once, weren't we,
Linda? But of course that was a long time ago.'
He turned to a tall woman, who was standing in the
corner. She smiled at me with friendly brown eyes. 'So
this is Lady Evans,' I thought. 'What a nice face she
has! She looks like a farmer's wife.'
I was not afraid any more. I sat down and opened
my notebook.
'Tell me about yourself, please, Sir Anthony. Did
you come from a musical family? Did you start to learn
the piano when you were three, like Mozart?'
The famous pianist smiled. 'No, no, my dear. I am
the first musician in my family. And I was fourteen
years old before I touched a piano for the first time.'
He saw the surprise on my face. 'We have a little time
before my concert. I'll tell you my story. It's a strange
story, but every word of it is true. You see, I left school
when I was thirteen. Everybody called me Tony in
those days. I worked on a farm . . .'
It was an exciting story and he told it well. At first I
3
The Piano
tried to write everything down in my notebook. Then
the pen fell from my hand and I just listened. I was lost
in Sir Anthony's wonderful story. He told me about an
old school behind a high wall in a dirty street. There
was broken glass on top of the wall. The school yard
was very small. As he spoke, pictures came into my
mind. I saw a little boy called Tony Evans, playing
football with an old tin . . .
The old man saw my notebook and smiled at me.'Don't tell me. You're a reporter. Which newspaperdo you work for?''The Sunday Times, sir.''A very good newspaper. Come in and sit down. Askyour questions. We were young once, weren't we,Linda? But of course that was a long time ago.'He turned to a tall woman, who was standing in thecorner. She smiled at me with friendly brown eyes. 'Sothis is Lady Evans,' I thought. 'What a nice face shehas! She looks like a farmer's wife.'I was not afraid any more. I sat down and openedmy notebook.'Tell me about yourself, please, Sir Anthony. Didyou come from a musical family? Did you start to learnthe piano when you were three, like Mozart?'The famous pianist smiled. 'No, no, my dear. I amthe first musician in my family. And I was fourteenyears old before I touched a piano for the first time.'He saw the surprise on my face. 'We have a little timebefore my concert. I'll tell you my story. It's a strangestory, but every word of it is true. You see, I left schoolwhen I was thirteen. Everybody called me Tony inthose days. I worked on a farm . . .'It was an exciting story and he told it well. At first I3The Pianotried to write everything down in my notebook. Thenthe pen fell from my hand and I just listened. I was lostin Sir Anthony's wonderful story. He told me about anold school behind a high wall in a dirty street. Therewas broken glass on top of the wall. The school yardwas very small. As he spoke, pictures came into mymind. I saw a little boy called Tony Evans, playingfootball with an old tin . . .
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