I cleaned up all the dust that had accumulated inside. Apparently this guy played with the top board open sometimes, because a whole variety of detritus had fallen down among the dust: a paperclip, a cap for a propelling pencil, a rubber band, a thousand-yen bill and a faded photograph. Dusting the photo with a tissue, I found the image of a young boy, smiling shyly at the camera from his place at the keyboard of the piano. I placed these objects beside the magazines from the top board and my box of tissues.

Moisture seemed to have accumulated behind the piano where it leaned against the wall, causing some of the strings to rust, besides which a number of the hammer shanks were warped. Checking each one I worried about managing to fix them all before I could begin the tuning proper. It was hard to believe that none of the strings had snapped yet – I didn’t feel at all confident of being able to restore this dilapidated old instrument.

Reaching out for another tissue to clean the dirt off the strings, my eyes fell again on the photograph, and I blinked in surprise. It was the young man. It sort of looked like him, and it sort of didn’t, but I realized that the sweet boy in the photo was the same man who lived here now. The boy in the picture had such a different air about him that I simply hadn’t made the connection.

I picked up the photo and studied it. Yes, the resemblance was there. What could possibly have happened between then and now, I wondered, to change the smiling boy in the photo into this decidedly unsmiling man who can’t look me in the eye or offer a single word? Still, I had work to get on with, and no matter what shape a piano might be in, there was always hope.

There is always, always potential – even in a long-abandoned piano, cast aside in the worst conditions. If a tuner is called out on a job, that always means someone is planning to play their piano. No matter the circumstances, it will be ready for action once it’s been through our hands.

And so I began, intent on getting this piano back to the best condition possible.

The smallness of the house meant I could sense the young man’s presence throughout. Even focused on my work, ears listening intently to count the vibrations, I was all too aware of the man in the room next door, listening along.

I wondered if he was planning to sell the piano after it was tuned.

Hours later, I was finally able to call out ‘I’ve finished!’, and the young man appeared at once, his eyes still unable to meet mine.