“It’s a calamity, Mr Partridge.” Mrs Shrubsole was making no bones about it. “Just like his father, that boy. And to think we kept him away from it all this time.”
“But surely,” said Mr Partridge, “it isn’t that bad? Once we’re beyond the early stages – an asset to the community in the long run.”
Mrs Shrubsole was having none of it. Old Partridge was elevating the whole thing into an artistic matter. But then he was nearly deaf. All those years with the brass band had wrecked his hearing.
“It’s the early stages I’m worried about,” she said. “His father used to bring the plaster off the ceiling, regular, with that tuba. That’s why we locked it in a trunk in the attic. Locked it, and threw away the key, Mr Partridge.”
Young Ernest had come running in all excited. Mr Partridge, the music master, had invited him to join the band. Mrs Shrubsole had frowned, and fearfully asked what instrument the lad proposed to play. Perhaps it would be only a triangle. But it was a faint hope. “No,” the boy had said, “I wanted a trombone.” Mrs Shrubsole shuddered. “But my arms wasn’t long enough. He’s giving me a cornet to start.”
So Mrs Shrubsole had gone to have a few choice words with the music master. “Well, it’s done now. But you know the boy’s as tone-deaf as his father, Mr Partridge.”
She turned to leave, and then paused and added, “So he’ll be practising at your house.”


Kathy Sharp is the author of fabulous fantasy novel Isle of Larus http://tinyurl.com/olfyskv and the exciting sequel Sea of Clouds http://amzn.to/1wYCPH0