Letter to the Tenant Upstairs

Flat 2, 18 Alder Street Tuesday evening Dear Tenant of Flat 3, We have not met, though I feel I know your left hand very well. I am writing about the piano. I want to be fair. You play beautifully, and mostly at reasonable hours. But on Sunday you began the same eight bars at a quarter past six in the morning and stopped them, unfinished, eleven times before breakfast. I counted. I could not help it. By the seventh time I was holding my breath at the turn in the fourth bar, the one where you always hesitate, and by the ninth I was willing you across it. You never did get across it. I had meant this letter to ask whether you might begin a little later at weekends. I see now that it has become something else. I would like to know how the piece ends. I have been humming the first eight bars in the shower, on the bus and, once, at a funeral, which I do not recommend. If you would rather keep the ending to yourself, I understand. Some things are better unfinished. But if you would like an audience for the ninth bar, I make a very good pot of tea, and I am home most evenings after six. With warm regards and a slightly tired ear, Margaret Ellison Flat 2 P.S. Saturday afternoons are perfect.