‘We’ll leave it up to you,’ the twins said in unison.

‘Well then, if there’s anything you’d like to tell us, please feel free at any time.’

Once the girls had left, Mr Yanagi took off his grey jacket and draped it over the stool in front of the piano. It was a single stool now, I noticed, in place of the two that had stood there previously.

He opened up the newly polished black piano and began to tap on the white keys.

I wondered why they’d requested both of us, why they wanted me there too. Yuni had come to the shop and told me about her illness, so perhaps she had thought it was only polite to request my presence too.

While Mr Yanagi was tuning, all kinds of thoughts ran back and forth through my mind. This room was a little overly soundproofed. There was, of course, soundproofing on the bottom of the piano legs, but they stood on a deep-pile carpet, while two layers of soundproof curtains hung at the window. Was it not a terrible waste for the sound of the piano to be muffled like this? It must surely halve the glorious charm of hearing Kazune play?

While Mr Yanagi was busy laying his cloths out beneath the strings, I tried clapping my hands. A dry bam came out, but soon stopped. Hardly any reverberation at all. I drew back the curtains, which ran from the top of the window all the way down to the floor, and clapped my hands again. This time the reverb clearly lasted longer. Surely when she played during the day it would be OK to open the curtains?

‘Close those.’ Mr Yanagi was crouched down by the piano. ‘They’re always closed, so I want to tune the piano with them that way.’

‘But it’s such a shame. It’s better to play with them open.’

‘As they were, please.’

I reluctantly closed the curtains. It blocked the light as well as the sound. I drew back the curtains again and the gentle evening light shone in.

‘Tomura!’

‘OK, OK.’ I grudgingly closed them once more. I just couldn’t shake the notion that it was a mistake.

‘What are you, a child?’

That was the first time in years anyone had called me a child. A single laugh escaped me and I felt lighter somehow.

‘What are you laughing at?’

‘Nothing. I’m sorry.’

But there was mirth in my voice even as I apologized.