A Reason to Smile

Friday, September 26, 1997 | 7:30 PM | Oxford, England

POV Oliver

Oliver had a problem. He had been aware of it ever since Arthur from the theatre group had asked him two weeks ago to help them out with tonight's performance. The pianist who normally accompanied the show was unfortunately unavailable.

Of course, he would never leave them hanging—after all, they were paying him extra for tonight.

There was just one small problem: the school still knew nothing about his side job, and Mr. Whitaker would never let him go to an evening performance.

So he was going to need God's help.

"Sister Margaret, I missed you!" he said as the taxi door opened.

He ran to the open door, offered her his hand and helped her out before immediately hugging her. This time, she wasn't holding a prayer book. He made sure of that first.

"You haven't even managed a full month without causing trouble!" Margaret said affectionately. "What am I going to do with you?" she continued, pulling a small Bible from her bag.

Oliver immediately took two steps back and smiled at her.

"Ahem," Whitaker cleared his throat, having watched the entire spectacle.

Oliver and Margaret both turned towards him, and Margaret was the first to speak.

"You're Mr. Whitaker?" Margaret asked, narrowing her eyes as she regarded him suspiciously.

"Yes, that's him!" Oliver said, pointing at him.

Whitaker began shifting his weight from one foot to the other, as though he were prepared to flee from the nun should the situation require it.

"Oliver has written quite a lot about you," she said, taking a few steps towards him and holding out the small Bible. "Put on the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil."

She waited until he took the Bible from her hand before placing a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "I think you need this more than I do."

Oliver stared at her in horror and took a deep breath.

"Ephesians 6:11," he finally said, shaking his head. "Sister Margaret, what exactly are you trying to say?"

"Thank you very much, Sister," Whitaker said, giving Oliver a provocative smile.

"Margaret, I'm disappointed! Psalm 41:9—"

"Yea, mine own familiar friend, in whom I trusted, which did eat of my bread, hath lifted up his heel against me," Whitaker interrupted.

Oliver and Margaret both stared at him in surprise.

Whitaker grinned.

"What do you think I've been doing these past few weeks since you got here?" He held up Margaret's Bible. "God sent you to test me!"

Margaret burst out laughing, something Oliver had rarely seen her do. She seemed to enjoy it whenever he was the one on the receiving end.

This text was taken from NovelPhoenix. Help the author by reading the original version there.

"We have to go. The performance is about to start," Oliver grumbled, eager to escape the situation.

Oliver and Margaret climbed into the waiting taxi and set off for the Oxford Playhouse.

"Filch—Mr. Whitaker—I'd say I've successfully brought him closer to God," Oliver said with a broad grin.

Margaret looked at him sceptically and replied, "It seems far more likely to me that you drove the poor man to such desperation that he had nowhere left to turn but the Lord."

A few minutes later, the taxi stopped outside the Oxford Playhouse. Oliver said goodbye to Margaret and left her to join the other guests. After all, he had managed to negotiate a VIP ticket for her tonight—if she was coming all the way to Oxford, she should at least get a good seat.

While Margaret made her way towards the auditorium, Oliver disappeared backstage.

"There you are!" Arthur greeted him the moment he entered the backstage area.

"Arthur, a good evening to you too," Oliver said as he made his way over to the piano. He sat down, straightened the sheet music and looked at Arthur triumphantly.

"I'm ready."

Arthur stared at him for a moment as though Oliver had just said something completely absurd before bursting out laughing.

"No, you're not!" he said, pointing towards the costume rack. "You really think we're letting you perform in those clothes?"

"Is that really necessary? The piano is tucked away in a dark corner. Nobody's going to pay any attention to me anyway."

Arthur simply waved him off and pointed towards the costume rack.

***

POV Margaret

Margaret smiled as she was shown to her seat.

The VIP section, of course. That was Oliver all over. Wherever that boy went, he somehow always managed to come out ahead. Even when he was only filling in for a pianist.

"Good evening, Sister," she heard a woman say.

Margaret turned around. The woman looked to be in her early thirties and smiled warmly as she took the seat beside her.

"Good evening," Margaret replied.

"I must admit, I wasn't expecting to find a nun here tonight," the woman said, amused.

"We tend to turn up wherever the Lord wants us," Margaret said with a smile.

Then the lights in the auditorium dimmed. The curtain opened, and the first notes of the piano filled the room.

Margaret turned her attention towards the stage.

Oliver sat slightly off to one side at the piano. Arthur had put him in black trousers, a white shirt and a dark waistcoat. He was even wearing a small bow tie.

The melody spread through the auditorium, quiet and almost restrained at first, then gradually growing fuller as the individual notes came together into a piece that silenced the remaining conversations and drew the audience's attention towards the stage.

Margaret listened for a few seconds before remembering the woman beside her and turning back towards her.

The woman was staring at the stage. Her eyes were wide, and her gaze wasn't fixed on the actors but on the boy at the piano—on Oliver.

Margaret was a little surprised by her reaction. She knew the astonished expressions people wore at church when they heard Oliver play for the first time, but there seemed to be something more than simple surprise in this woman's eyes.

"That's why I'm here," she finally said, unable to hide the pride in her voice. That was her boy.

The woman looked at her, and Margaret gave a small nod towards the piano. "Oliver."

***

POV Oliver

"Finally!" Oliver muttered under his breath as the curtain closed for the second time. The encore really hadn't been necessary. He had been sweating his arse off in here for hours already.

"Well done!" Arthur called out to everyone as the actors hugged each other. "You too, little man!"

Oliver gave him a tired nod and sat back down at his piano. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go to bed.

It didn't take long before Margaret appeared backstage, though she had a woman in tow. Oliver raised his tired head and was about to greet her when he noticed the camera in Margaret's hand.

Oh, no.

"Before you get changed," Margaret said, already raising the camera.

Reluctantly, Oliver got up from the piano stool and stood beside the instrument. Margaret waited until he looked reasonably presentable.

"Oliver, stop making such a fuss!" she said sternly.

Oliver looked at her wearily. "If you want a smile, you'll have to give me a reason," he said, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together.

The woman beside Margaret began to laugh, while Margaret merely reached for her prayer book.

Oliver immediately put on a radiant smile, and a moment later, the camera clicked.

[Image]

Satisfied, Margaret lowered it again. Oliver was already about to collapse back onto the piano stool when he noticed that the woman who had come with her was still watching him closely.

But there was something about her gaze that sent a shiver down Oliver's spine. He couldn't explain why, but something about it bothered him, almost as if she knew him. Margaret seemed to have noticed it as well and said,

"Oliver, there's someone I'd like you to meet."