La Musique D’Elena

'Did I mention she wrote 'Da Luna Tiffani', and performed it with the West Australian Symphony Orchestra!' I beamed, as I undid my seatbelt.

'Only about a dozen times,' Mum sighed, rubbing her 'about to pop' belly.

'It was hailed as a captivating mixture of innocence and terror!' I continued, before wistfully adding. 'Miss Aurora Lyrebird.'

'Didn't her name used to be Allison?'

'Everyone has a stage name,' I said defensively.

'What's wrong with Allison... or say, Melanie?' Mum smirked.

'No one is called Melanie nowadays. No offence.'

Mum leaned against the head rest laughing. 'Oh, as a proud Melanie, offence is definitely taken.'

'Did you know she spent two whole years on an underground creative hiatus in Paris! People thought she'd died!'

Mum laughed at my ridiculous enthusiasm. I knew I was being insane. But it was the Aurora Lyrebird - pianist, composer extraordinaire!

I stepped out of the car fidgeting nervously with the charm bracelet that was permanently attached to my wrist. I couldn't believe how lucky I was to be handpicked by Miss Lyrebird herself, for a private lesson. I had butterfly's the size of puffer-fish tap dancing in my belly.

'Are you even listening?' Mum's voice cut through my haze.

'Huh? No, I mean, yes?'

'I said have fun,' Mum laughed. 'And Elena...'

'Yeah?'

'I love you.'

'Muuuuum,' I groaned.

The driveway was long and steep, but my nerves made the walk a quick one. The front door was twice my height and four times as wide, and I giggled excitedly as I knocked. A few seconds later, the enormous door swung backwards, revealing Miss Lyrebird herself.

She was a vision in a long, white dress, her dark hair pulled into a pony tail at the nape of her neck and her lips as red as cherries.

'Miss Elena,' she smiled. 'Lovely to see you again.'

An awkward giggle escaped me, and I felt my cheeks immediately flush. Be cool, Elena. I told myself, then proceeded to giggle again.

'I trust you are ready to begin our lesson?'

'Absolutely!' I chirped. 'And, I just want you to know that I think you're great! Like, the greatest. Like Ali, except for with pianos. Not that you fight them. You play them. I guess some could argue that's what Ali did. Ali, what a weird reference right? Dad's a big fan. But, gosh, I don't even like boxing. I like piano. Well, that's probably obvious, and I like you... wait... oh, wow.' My cheeks flared with heat, as I struggled to contain the verbal vomit. 'Sorry,' I grimaced, casting my eyes between my feet.

Miss Lyrebird's finger pressed against my chin as she lifted my eyes to meet hers.

'Elena,' she said, with a wide, satisfied smile. 'Don't apologise. I find your enthusiasm... inspiring. It was what drew me to you in the auditions. I find enthusiasm the hardest emotion to bottle. It is vibrant and fresh, hard to hide, and impossible to replicate. I find you entirely, captivating.'

My chest swelled and I mumbled something that I hoped sounded like 'thanks'.

Miss Lyrebird brushed her finger across my jaw as she let her hand drop to her side. 'This way.'

Her house was as spectacular as I had imagined. High ceilings and white walls with marbled floor tiles laid in a regal herringbone pattern. I padded across a beautiful pink and purple Persian rug that lined the hallway, while I looked at a row of shelving that held a peculiar array of items. There was a baseball hat, a pair of child's ballet shoes, books, some jewellery and even a small teddy bear.

'Interesting collection,' I said.

'Memento's,' replied Miss Lyrebird, reaching out to one of the last items on the shelf; a petite silver necklace with a moon pendant and the name Tiffani engraved upon it. She rolled it between her fingers, her gaze dropping to my wrist. 'What a beautiful bracelet.'

'Oh,' I twirled the bracelet around, the charms clinking against each other. 'It's from my Mum. She buys me little charms every birthday.'

Miss Lyrebird smiled. 'How... perfect.'

We moved down the hallway, into a large sitting room, where a twinkling champagne coloured chandelier, hovered over the most amazing piano I had ever seen.

'Oh, my goodness,' I breathed. The grand piano was a mesmerising granite colour, with such a glossy exterior it seemed almost to be made of liquid mercury.

'Beautiful, isn't she,' said Miss Lyrebird, gesturing for me to sit at the piano bench.

Obediently, I took a seat. 'She?'

Miss Lyrebird nodded, stroking the side of the piano and looking upon the instrument with adoration. 'As if a gift from the muses themselves, she found me in Paris, when I had all but given up.'

I let my fingers glide across the black and white keys, feeling tiny sparks of electricity flare in my chest.

'I call her Dame ventouse,' Miss Lyrebird continued, placing blank sheet music on the piano shelf in front of me. 'Would you like to play?'

I nodded, biting down on my bottom lip to ease some nerves. I started slowly at first, letting my hands warm up to the keys, but before long, my fingers were dancing.

'Wonderful,' said Miss Lyrebird.

Heat radiated up my fingers, as if Dame ventouse herself was enjoying my music.

'Now, let go,' instructed Miss Lyrebird.  'Feel the music swell inside you, let it in. Let it consume you.'

They were unusual instructions, but somehow, coming from Miss Lyrebird, and sitting in front of Dame ventouse, they made sense. Each note I played resonated deep inside my belly, and seemed to vibrate through me. Soon I was playing music I had never heard of, never even thought of. Music that had never existed.

'Yes, Elena, incredible!' Miss Lyrebird stood over me with her eyes closed, swaying back and forth, as she hummed the energetic and elated tune stemming from my fingers.

Memories of my life ran through my head - my parents, my soon to be brother, the first time I played piano, and this moment, playing for the most incredible composer of my time. I closed my eyes and let it all translate into music. It was euphoric. Pure excitement.

But slowly, the elation began to fade, replaced instead by a weariness that seemed to creep into my very bones.

'Miss Lyre...' I murmured. 'I don't feel...'

'Hush,' Miss Lyrebird cooed, the music still surrounding us. 'Inspiration is so hard to find nowadays. And originality,' she scoffed, 'non-existent! No, to excel, to really shine, one must bring something different. One must bring raw, honest, emotion. And that is no purer, no more intoxicating, than when found in our youth. In our children.'

I felt panic twitch in my chest, but it was overpowered by a cold void that seemed to seep through my veins. I tried to stop, to pull my hands from the keys. But I was no longer in control.

'You, young Elena,' said Miss Lyrebird, 'should be proud. Your lust for life, your energy, your enthusiasm, will be enjoyed by people around the world!' She clapped her hands together as she reached for the blank sheet music, only it wasn't blank anymore. Each line was filled with rising and falling notes, joined together in energetic perfection. It was a musical score, full of life.  Full of my life.

I whimpered, as I watched the tips of my fingers, shimmer and ripple, the cold void settling in my chest. 'Miss Lyrebird...' I managed to murmur, before my entire body shimmered out of existence.

'Oh Melanie, he's beautiful,' said Laura, admiring the ball of fresh wrinkles.

Melanie smiled at the bundle in her arms. 'He is, now if only he slept.'

'It's always hardest with your first,' Laura laughed.

'How was last night?' Melanie asked, laying her son down to change his nappy.

'Oh,' Laura gasped. 'A-mazing! That woman is a musical genius. Todd described it as enthusiastic, which, while being an odd way to describe a piece of music, actually captures it perfectly.'

Laura dug out her phone from her back pocket. She showed Melanie an image of a beautiful woman with long dark hair, and cherry red lips, sitting behind a grand, granite coloured piano, a gold charm bracelet illuminated on her wrist under the spotlight.

Melanie's eyes narrowed on the bracelet. 'What was it called again?'

'A night with Aurora Nightingale,' replied Laura, 'playing, La Musique d'Elena.'

Melanie winced, as if somewhere in the depths of her mind that name had once held meaning. But as quickly as the feeling arrived, it disappeared, a cold numbness, instead, creeping across her chest.

'You okay?' Laura asked.

Melanie blinked back the confusion, shaking off the unsettling image of the golden charm bracelet, and focused instead on her only child. 'Of course,' she replied, 'I just don't know why people have such fancy names now. What's wrong with, say, Melanie?'