T here was no-one to be seen when I walked into Shackell Pianos, just the tantalising sound of tinkling piano keys.

Following it, I found Jeff Shackell and Clive Ackroyd hard at work tuning a magnificent £120,000 Steinway concert grand piano.

Next to it stood another worth more than £100,000, meaning we were surrounded by almost a quarter of a million pounds’ worth of piano.

That was just the opening few bars, I discovered, as the showroom is home to ten or more Steinways.

With their gleaming polished wood, curvaceous looks and sparkling ivory and ebony keys, these are the stuff of pianists’ dreams.

Incredibly, this treasure trove is hidden away in an unassuming industrial unit on the edge of Witney.

Jeff Shackell is the man who started it all back in 1978 and with a team of piano technicians including Clive Ackroyd and Paul Mildren, has taken the company to the top of its game.

He has spent more than three decades in the piano trade, overhauling, maintaining and tuning instruments for some of the best pianists and institutions in the UK, including the Royal Northern College of Music and the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama.

Shackell Pianos also has strong links to the Royal Academy of Music, where Clive Ackroyd is head of piano technical services.

The cheapest piano in the house is a Yamaha upright costing just over £3,000 but the majority are Steinway grands and will set you back anything from £15,000 to £50,000.

Well-known names whose pianos came from Shackells include the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge (a wedding present bought by a third party), team boss of the Red Bull Formula One outfit Christian Horner and Guardian newspaper editor Alan Rusbridger, who mentions Shackells in his book Play It Again.

Mr Ackroyd explained: “They are worth every penny and get better with age — up to a point.”

The vast majority of the company’s business comes through recommendation.

Another sign they must be doing something right, is they sold 70-80 pianos last year and turned over £1.6m.

Despite this, money has never been a driving force for Mr Shackell.

He explained: “I do not actively sell pianos, I simply offer them for sale. I give plenty of advice if people want it but this is not a piano shop.”

Trust and reputation is everything in this industry, particularly when it comes to restoration.

“If someone is going to leave their Steinway in your care for three months and spend £15,000 for overhaul work, they want to know it is in safe hands,” Mr Shackell pointed out.

He spent years learning the trade, including visiting Steinway Hall to glean information recorded by technicians from the past and honed his skill by working with other experts.

He claims not to play well himself, although as he is constantly exposed to the world’s top pianists and music directors, this is almost certainly modesty.

“It is a lovely pastime and relaxing, if you are not a concert pianist,” he said, emphasising the second half of the sentence.

Having spent 30 years supplying and keeping grand pianos in top condition for professional pianists and music festivals, he knows all about stressed performers.

“You have to tip-toe around them at times.

“I make myself available when requested but it is best to stay out of the way otherwise.”

Nerve-wracked pianists may insist a piano is not tuned properly when it is, a situation which requires diplomacy laced with cunning.

“The only thing you can do is pretend to re-tune it and although you have actually done nothing, now they believe it is adjusted, they are happy to play,” he said.

A run-in with one well-known pianist, whose blushes he spares by declining to name, almost turned into fisticuffs.

“The pianist was due to perform Rachmaninov’s third piano concerto, which is a beast to play and tune for. I had just started tuning, when he marched up to me and said he wanted to practise. I asked if he could give me half-an-hour, but he said no and tried to sit at the piano. I can only describe what followed as a squabble, until finally the festival administrator escorted the pianist out. That sort of thing happened several times, but I always stand up for my right to get the piano sounding right.”

Little wonder he has decided to put that aspect of the business on hold, to concentrate on the core element, which is sales and restoration.

A nine-feet grand piano weighs up to half a ton, so moving them around is not for the faint hearted. He explained: “We had a runaway Steinway at a hotel in Bath. It got away from us coming down stairs and unfortunately, I was in front of, rather than behind, it.

“It chased me down the steps and pinned me up against the wall. The piano was fine, it was me that ended up with a broken rib.”

He continued: “People would often see me jumping up and down in a church aisle.

“I was trying to see if there were any cast-iron heating grilles under the carpet. Once, the heating grille a Steinway was standing on collapsed under the weight and the piano fell through the floor.”

Then there was the time they delivered a piano to Oxford Town Hall.

“There was no lift, so we had to lug it all the way up the marble stairs with the staff watching our every move to make sure we did not damage anything. We all went to the pub for a few drinks to celebrate after that job finished.”