The practice hour

Source: an original fiction extract.

At six each evening, the trumpet began. Three clear notes crossed the courtyard, followed by a fourth that broke in the middle. Then the player started again. Mara sat at her kitchen table with a page of figures and tried to keep her place. She worked early shifts at the bakery and studied bookkeeping after tea. The music arrived precisely when the numbers began to blur. On Monday she closed the window. On Tuesday she put on headphones. By Wednesday she had written a note with the words every evening underlined twice.

She carried it to the flat opposite, intending to push it beneath the door. Before she could bend down, the door opened. A boy stood there holding the trumpet. He was about twelve, with a red mark above his lip. Mara folded the note into her palm. She asked if a parent was home. His father came from the kitchen, drying his hands, and she explained about her course. He said that the boy had an audition in three weeks and had been practising after school because the flat was empty then. Mara said that hers was not.

The boy looked at the floor. His father began to apologise, but Mara was still describing the noise. She mentioned the repeated mistake, then heard how that sounded. The boy tightened his grip on the instrument. She wanted to say that it was not his playing she objected to, though partly it was: the same broken note could pull her attention away from anything. Instead, she said that she needed an hour to work. His father asked which hour. The question was so practical that it interrupted the speech she had been preparing.

They agreed on five until half past five, before Mara usually sat down, with the window shut. The next evening she heard the opening notes while putting away her shopping. At half past five they stopped. The silence felt deliberate. She began her figures at six and completed two pages before making tea. A week later the boy knocked to ask whether he could practise for an extra fifteen minutes on Saturday. Mara checked her calendar. She would be at work. He thanked her as if she had lent him something he was afraid to damage.

On the day of the audition, the courtyard was quiet. Mara found herself listening for the three opening notes while she washed a plate. That afternoon the boy returned carrying the case, walking more slowly than usual. She asked how it had gone. He said he had not been selected. Mara could think of no promise she could honestly make about next year. She said she hoped he would keep playing. At five the following day, the trumpet began again. The fourth note broke. Mara shut the kitchen window, put her books on the table and waited for the agreed half-hour to end.

Consider the whole source. A reader said: “The story suggests that consideration means making room for another person’s needs, not pretending that those needs never inconvenience you.” Evaluate how far you agree. Support your judgement with detailed references to the text and the writer’s methods.