It was Sunday morning and I was still in bed. I was in the habit of sleeping till late on Sundays as it was my only day off. Right, I had to go to school six days a week and that was awfully unfair. My friend George had all the weekends for himself, only because his parents were more relaxed about his education than my parents were. They sent him to a less prestigious school and George had less homework but more time for hanging around with other guys and playing the guitar.

I felt envious of George and deeply hurt as my mum often praised him for his musical hobby. She reproached me for my lack of interest in anything but it wasn’t lack of interest, it was lack of time! Didn’t I tell you I had only Sundays to relax?

Relaxing was my plan for that Sunday too, but the noise and loud voices in the living room made me fully awake.

‘Here, a bit to the right. It will be convenient for Andrew to practice here.’

‘Right, and we can arrange his concerts here.’

‘No-no! Now to the left, closer to the wall.’

Then there were some scratching sounds as if someone was moving furniture. I got out of the bed and headed to the living room.

There was a large black piano there. My dad, mum and two unknown men were pushing it, trying to squeeze it between the window and the cupboard.

‘Oh, you are just in time, Andrew,’ said my dad. ‘I never had an opportunity to learn to play music. But it's always been my dream. Now you’ll make it come true.’

‘It’s your dream, not mine,’ I wanted to reply but didn’t say anything.

The music teacher came at ten. He was a small grey man with small grey eyes. He was wearing a grey suit and a grey hat. He spoke in a quiet voice. The man looked harmless but I understood that he would ruin my Sundays forever.

The teacher talked about famous pianists and composers and about how much I should practice.

I listened to him and invented all sorts of plans of how I could escape his lessons. To explain to my parents that music was not my passion? To refuse to take lessons? To get sick? The most reliable idea was to break the instrument. But how could I do it?

When the lesson was over, my mum came into the room. She looked so happy that I didn’t dare to tell her anything about my feelings.

‘Oh, Andrew, I’m so proud of you! I believe that you’ve got a gift for music. And we'd like to celebrate the beginning of your music career. Tonight we are going to the concert hall and you’ll hear the best samples of classical music. You need to be dressed up and ready to go by 6pm.’

She carefully put three tickets on the black, polished piano lid.