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The Piano 钢琴之恋
1.In the Dressing-room
SIR ANTHONY EVANS PLAYS LISZT.
The words above the door of the theatre were a metre high.
On the wall there was a big picture of Sir Anthony at the piano.
Hundreds of people were waiting outside the ticket office.
It was Sir Anthony's eightieth birthday concert and everybody wanted a ticket.
I had a special ticket, because I was a newspaper reporter.
I wanted to talk to the famous pianist before his concert.
I showed my ticket to the doorman and went into the theatre. Then I walked upstairs to the dressing-rooms.
On my way upstairs I thought about the famous pianist.
I was a little afraid. My mouth was dry and my hands were shaking.
I arrived outside the dressing-room. There was a big gold star on the door.
I knocked, and a tall man opened it. He was very old, but his eyes were blue and bright.
He was wearing black trousers and a beautiful white shirt. He had a lot of straight, silvery hair.
He looked just like his picture on the wall of the theatre.
‘My name's Sally Hill,’ I began. ‘I...’ 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 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...
