Aimee rides her cousin's bicycle, following her instructions to precision, to find the route to Eva Forsythe's home. Eva's phone call, enquiring if she would still meet her and her daughter, was unexpected given the events that unfolded the night before.

The road is uphill, which causes Aimee to strain her legs. She curses under her breath, the decision to take the pedal vehicle, rather than the car. The closer she gets to the road, the landscape transforms. The colourful set of buildings is long gone and replaced by tall trees that line up and barely allow the sun to come through.

The white mansion is on top of a hill that overlooks the bay in all its glory. She rings the bell at the grey gates and is greeted by an English voice on the other side, "Hello?"

She clears her throat, "Hi. I'm here to see Eva. I'm Aimee."

The buzzer makes the distinct unlocking sound and the gates open. A tall gentleman in his mid-fifties greets her at the entrance and frowns at her choice of transportation.

"Good morning, Ma'am," he greets her.

Aimee chuckles. No one has ever called her a ma'am before.

"May I take your vehicle?" he enquires.

Aimee looks down at the bicycle and the fact the pompous man just referred to it as a vehicle.

"Sure" she climbs down from the bike amusedly.

The gentleman calls with a subtle nod a boy that runs to pick up the cycle and takes it to the other side of the house. He looks at Aimee and starts going up the stairs. Aimee stands still, unsure of what to do. He stops walking mid-way through the stairs and turns around to look at her.

"Ma'am..." he says.

Aimee sprints towards him and mechanically he turns around once again and proceeds with his march inside the house.

The house is as magnificent on the inside as it is on the outside. There's a grand hall that leads to a courtyard garden that doubles as a lounge area. The room is minimalistic in style but luxurious in its opulence. The walls are adorned with paintings and at the centre of the room lays in black and gold, a model O, Steinway grand piano. Aimee's eyes widen in anticipation of playing a Steinway once again.

"Wait here," the gentleman announces before disappearing.

Aimee's legs draw her to the piano, and instinctively she grazes its features. She plays with its keys, taunting the beast with each note.

"Aimee, I'm so glad you made it." Eva's voice startles her. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

Aimee takes two steps back, away from the piano. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be playing around."

"If a piano is not meant to play, then what is?" Eva's smile is warm and comforting. "Isabella is coming down shortly. How are you?"

Aimee gulps, "I'm terribly sorry about last night."

Eva places her right hand over Aimee's, clasping her slender fingers in between her palms. "Jack told us all about it. He shouldn't have pushed you, and if I were in your situation, I would have done exactly the same. Probably worst."

The two women chuckle. Aimee relaxes in Eva's warm presence.

"Who is us?" Aimee asks.

Eva points to the white sofa on the right. "Just me, and Charlie. We are old friends, your uncle and us."

Aimee sits down, and Eva sits just across from her and crosses her legs at her ankles.

"Would you like something to drink?"

Aimee shakes her head. She shuffles in her seat, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable with her dungarees and yellow t-shirt as her wardrobe choice for the meeting.

"Please, don't be so formal. What about some iced tea?" Eva rings a little bell and a woman in her late-forties appears. "Sarah, will you be a dear and get us some iced tea, please?"

Aimee observes Eva's poise and grace and feels even more uncomfortable. Playing the piano in front of millions isn't a problem, but wearing fancy wear is the most terrifying thing in the world for her. And here she is, sitting in front of the woman that even wearing a kaftan dress and some sandals looks like a movie star ready for a photoshoot, and Aimee's choice of wear is some old rags.

"May I ask, do you play?" she probes her host the silent that has befallen the room.

"Oh, I used to when I was small. My daddy imposed it on me, but he knew I had absolutely no talent for the thing." She smiles. "The piano actually belonged to him. He was the musician of the family. Maybe you've heard of him, Devon Stidolph?"

Aimee's eyes widen. "Your father was Devon Stidolph? I had one masterclass with him during my second year. He was amazing," her face falters. "I'm really sorry to hear of his passing."

"Thank you" Eva's right-hand lands on her lips, concealing a repressed emotion at her words. "Did he hear you play?"

"No, he was teaching us some piano variations he used to play. He didn't listen to anyone playing."

"I think he would have enjoyed hearing you play."

Aimee smiles shyly at the compliment. "I'm not that good."

"But, you are..."

The lady re-enters the room and puts down the ice teas before leaving the room again. Eva gets up.

"Would you like to play something while I check on Isabella?"

Aimee's eyes widen. "You don't mind?"

Eva gestures to the piano. "It's all yours," she says and climbs up the stairs.

Aimee gets up and sits at the piano. The room is full of natural light that shines through the garden and hits the grand piano. Unlike the piano, everything in that room is white in its decor, minimalistic, simple, and elegant as its owner. Aimee smiles at a picture of Eva and Charlie on the coffee table. Charlie with a navy blue suit, and Eva wearing a white dress. Eva's charm inspire Aimee and she plays Clair de Lune to her graceful host.

Each note brings her closer to London, where Justin would sit across her, holding a glass of brandy, listening to her for hours. Her hands were playing Clair de Lune, but her heart was playing the longing for her absent father, and the revived memory of him with each stroke in the piano. Her composition is flawless and her form is exemplary. Aimee's focus makes her omit her surroundings, and she neglects the pair of footsteps that have entered the lounge.

Eva observes Aimee playing with her hands covering her mouth, and her eyes prickled with tears, mesmerised by her talent. Besides her stands a girl, thirteen years old, that has the same crystal blue eyes as her father but has long light brown hair. She holds a book to her chest as if she is holding a treasure. The last few notes bring Aimee back to the land of the living and her eyes take sight of the two occupants that observe her intently. Aimee gets up and smiles warmly at the girl in front of her.

"This is Aimee. She's going to be your piano tutor," Eva says. "That was beautiful. Clair de Lune was one of my favourite compositions growing up."

"I'm glad you liked my choice of song. It was my pleasure to play at the same piano as Devon Stiphold." Aimee approaches Isabella with a warm smile. "Wonderful to meet you, Isabella." Aimee points to the book Isabella holds dearly in her hands. "That is a brilliant book you are reading there."

"You've read it?" the girl asks with her bright blue curious eyes.

Aimee smiles warmly. "How could I not? Those women were the reason we went to space."

Isabella's eyes lit up with enthusiasm for her answer.

"So you like the piano?" Aimee asks.

"Grandpa used to teach me," she replies.

Aimee's eyes jump to Eva, whom lowers her eyes to the ground at the mention of his name.

"Well, I hope I'll be able to do him some justice." Aimee turns her attention back to the little girl.

"I'm sure you will do," Eva says. "Do you want to show what you know to Aimee?" she asks Isabella, who jumps in excitement and runs to the instrument. "She doesn't remember much, just a heads up," Eva whispers to Aimee while Isabella takes her place at the piano.

"That is fine. She has time to learn."

Aimee remembers when Justin bought her own piano as a Christmas present. It was nothing compared with the one she played thereafter, but the small synthesiser was still her favourite thing in the world.

Aimee spent the rest of the afternoon getting acquainted with her new tutee. Within the first twenty minutes, Isabella announced she preferred to be called Izzie. For the following forty minutes, Izzie spent most of the time talking about space exploration and ignored the piano.

Aimee liked her immediately, and that was a sentiment that was returned in kind by Izzie. The sunset on the horizon advised Aimee to make her way back home.

"I should really get going."

Izzie gets up and embraces Aimee. "Nice to meet you, and I can't wait for our first lesson."

"Me too," she replies.

Eva gets up from the sofa and walks Aimee out of the house. "Thank you. She seems to have taken a liking to you. That's exactly what she needs, a positive youthful presence in her life. Do you want to come by tomorrow in the morning? I can show you around the house, introduce you to everyone and we can discuss Izzie's schedule and your pay?"

"Yes, of course."

"Great, shall we say around 8 am?"

"I'll see you then," Aimee says and exits the main door.

Outside, the gentleman stands with her bicycle waiting for her departure from the house as if he had any insight into what was happening behind the closed doors.

"Thank you."

The man bows slightly.

"You're from England?" Aimee asks.

He straightens his cufflinks. "Liverpool, Ma'am."

Aimee climbs on her cycle. "London."

"I could tell, Ma'am."

"What's your name?"

He stands upright and presents her with his hand. "Potter, Benjamin."

Aimee shakes his hand in return. "Pleasure, Mr Benjamin Potter. I'll see you tomorrow." and she pedals away returning to the farmhouse.