On the telephone he had asked if either my wife or I played and I replied that we did not.
''That is not a problem'' he had said but I could tell he did not approve.
He lived on the other side of the town and we arranged that I would take my seven year old son to meet him at 6.30 the following Friday.
He had an impessive house with a long drive. A very attractive woman showed us in explaining that she was Mrs X and she took us to what she called her musioc room. We intorduced ourselves. He was a thin man with a bald head and thin old fashioned glasses. He looked a lot older than his wife.
I could not believe that they were husband and wife.
He asked a lot of questions and seemed pleased by my enthusiaism that my son should learn the piano. Danny, my son, had been told to look as keen as possible, but did not really convince the tutor. At least he tried.
The tutor was a professional player but alos taught in all the best schools in the region. He was expensive, but I wanted the best for Danny.
At one point the tutor went to the door of the room and called his wife.
''Where is david '' he asked.
''In the garden, dear, do you want him ''
A few minutes later the tutor introdued his son. He told Danny that he was also seven. I was struck by how much he looked like his mother. His father could have passed for his grandad. The boy was cute and as it was a warn summers eveining he was dressed in a similar way to Danny in a teeshirt , sandels and shorts. The boy's shorts were white, polyester cotton type so quite thin. He sat on the stool to give us a demonstration I noticed that he looked a little nervous. Danny and I were sitting directly behind the boy. He started to play and I was very impressed. he played beautifully.
Then suddenly his father shouted at him
''AGAIN..... FROM THE BEGINNING''
Clearly he had made a mistake but I had not noticed I was so impressed. The boy glanced at his father, who looked as if he might kill him.
The boy simply said ''sorry daddy'' and started the piece again. All the time I could feel that Danny did not like this tutor.
A few minutes later and whilst he was playing very well his father yelled at him again
''NO...WRONG''
followed by
''get over the stool''
Danny I looked on as the boy stood up and started to put his hands in the waistband of his thin shorts.
''No up'' his father shouted and the boy bent over the stool with his back to us. he had clearly done this before as he grabbed hold of the legs on the far side of the stool.
I looked at the boy's small round bottom. I could see through the fabric that he did not have any underwear on. His teeshirt had rode up his back and at the back of his waist I could even see the blue veins thru the skin of his lower back, we sat so close to him.
The shorts were tight and I could easily see the colour of the bottom skin underneath.
The tutor went to a book case and retrieved a small thin cane. I had not seen one like that for years.
The boy clearly knew what was going to happen and started to cry, but remained still.
The father lined up the cane on the middle of his son's bottom and gave four quick strokes. As each stroke laned the boy uttered 'ouch' and owweeeii'.
' They seemed unduly hard for such a small boy but I was fascinated by the little show and so was Danny, who stood next to me quietly. The boy's slim waist and lower back jerked up slightly as each stroke landed and it must have hurt.
I tried to make out the red lines through the polyester cotton fabric and I think I could just about see them.
The father told his son that he would pracise later that evening but to go to his room. As he left, the boy walked a little stiffly and said 'goodbye' politely to Danny and me. His eyes were red with tears. As he left the room he was rubbing his bottom.
The tutor went out (still holding the cane) and returned with his older son. He was a also cute , like the younger brother , with medium length hair. He also looked nothing like the father but had his mother's good looking features. he wore the same type of shorts and teeshirt. When he was asked to sit at the stool his father eplained that Mark was eleven and had been playing since he was four. I noticed that Mark was not wearing underpants. The shorts were thin, like the younnger boy, and the line of underpants would have been visible, we were sitting so close behind him.
I remember thinking that he must have been put over the stool many times.
The tutor put the cane back on the book case, but had clearly intended for his older son to see him holding it.
Mark played wonderfully.
I sat and dreamed that one day perhaps Danny might play like that.
We thanked the tutor for his time and remarked about how excellently Mrak had played.
''not bad'' the man remarked and Mark blushed. Mark turned to us and said to me ''thank you sir''.
I noticed that when he looked at Danny he just smiled.
As we drove down the drive towards home Danny informed me that he did not want that tutor. He did not mention the events with the younger son but it was claerly on his mind. I smiled to myself.
I agreed that he was a little old and we would find another tutor. As we continued the dirve home I thought back over the event of the last 45 minutes and about how informative and entertaining the time had been.
I found out from freinds later that the tutor was not the boy's natural father.
Danny did take up piano and is now a reasonably good player. He has two young children and they will also learn it.
I bought a cane to use on Danny shortly after the visit to the tutor.