She was there again. I had seen her the previous year, and occasionally in the office. As usual, her long brown hair was slightly unkempt and she was wearing a dark sweatshirt, dark pants and dark trainers. Her face had that slightly shut in look of someone who doesn't want to be noticed. Indeed she was curled up on a chair in the corner of the room. I wanted to help, as I had helped others in her situation.
Earlier in the year there had been Joseph. He'd been looking for a job and unable to get any interviews. I had helped him with his letters and CV, gently drawing out his skills and experience and helping him to write it up. Then when he was called for interview, giving him interview practice. We'd been shopping too, and fitted him out in a suit and tie. He'd protested, but what else did I have to spend my money on? He didn't get the first two jobs he went for, but was successful on the third. His confidence has improved enormously so now he walks tall.
I had a good job as a web programmer. I was a geek. Here I was at my boss' Christmas party. I'd joined the firm a year ago, so this was my second time here. I don't like parties, but couldn't really get out of this one if I wanted to progress. I knew I was out of place. For heaven's sake, I had on a jacket and tie – the most formally dressed there. Years ago I had tried to dress more informally, but it was a disaster, so I stuck to what I knew. But I had a soft spot for and a desire to help lame ducks, I think because of my own feeling of being out of place.
I screwed up my courage and made slow progress across the room to the girl sitting in the corner. Her eyes flared slightly as I arrived next to her, and she looked down to try to prevent me talking to her. I folded myself up to sit on the floor next to her and looked up into her face. For a moment my breath hitched. Her alabaster oval face was beautiful, highlighted as it was by a very slight blush and a dusting of freckles. She was also older than I had first thought, perhaps near my 35 years.
"Hi."
She mumbled a response and coloured even more.
"So what's a beautiful girl like you doing stuck in a corner?"
She looked up sharply.
"Don't be silly."
I smiled at her. She looked curiously at me.
"Why are you talking to me?"
"I saw you here last year, and I've seen you around the office, and I wanted to find out what you did."
"Why?"
"Because I'm nosey."
She laughed, and my breath caught again. She had no make up, no pretence, but when she smiled I couldn't breathe.
"So what do you do?"
Her face shut down again and she looked down.
"I'm so sorry – I didn't mean to upset you." I was horrified that my simple question had caused her distress. "Let's talk about something else."
She nodded.
"What music do you like?"
She coloured bright red, and my heart sank that I had upset her twice in a row. I didn't hear her response.
"I'm sorry – I didn't catch that?"
"Bach."
I could feel my face light up – geek that I am. "My favourite."
She looked up sharply and frowned at me. "You're just saying that to humour me. What's your favourite piece?"
"So many depending on my mood, but I love the start of his Christmas Oratorio with the drums and trumpets."
Her lovely smile peeped out again. "It's really true," she said wonderingly, "you do like Bach. Do you play an instrument?"
"No, just sing. Bass is comfortable, but I can do tenor as well. It's really annoying being a baritone, good at neither." I had found the way in to draw her out. "What about you?"
She grinned at the baritone comment, but I noticed the sadness in her eyes when I asked about her. Perhaps she just listened to the music and wished she could take part. But I was wrong, and she surprised me.
"I play flute, piccolo, saxophone, and I get by on the piano."
"Wow. I would love to be able to do that. I tried to learn the keyboard, and gave up on the clarinet. Do you play now?"
"Yes, I'm in two orchestras and a chamber group called Rhapsody. We do both classical and jazz."
Her face was animated suddenly, but as she finished speaking, a cloud of sadness came in front of the sun. I reached out and touched her arm.
"Can you tell me?"
She knew what I meant, and for a moment I thought she was going to share the sadness, but an infinitesimal shake of her head told me I wasn't going to hear.
"Will you come to our concert after Christmas?"
She'd surprised me again. This was the opening I needed. I have to admit that my normal reason for wanting to see her again, so I could help, was overlaid by a completely new feeling that I wanted to see her even if I couldn't help her. Who was I kidding? She was just as unattainable as other girls I'd had crushes on. Memories of my two disastrous attempts to date girls flashed through my mind.
"I'd love to come. Are you doing any Bach?" I realised that I didn't sound hesitant, and my voice had reflected my genuine interest in the music. Now there's a first.
"Yes we are! But we intertwine it with jazz. The pieces are usually in pairs, first jazz, but reflecting Bach's music, and second baroque, starting with Bach and showing how jazz and baroque have similar traits." She was animated again. "It's been really interesting working on it and putting it all together. Because we play both types of music, we've explored it in a way I think few others have. Of course there are superb musicians like Jaques Loussier and the Swingle Singers, but playing native jazz and comparing it to Bach and his contemporaries is not something we've come across. I'd love to discuss it with you afterwards."
It was lovely to hear the words tumbling out, to see her leaning forward and making gestures, and to watch her suddenly come alive.
"I would be honoured to discuss it with you. I'm a mere amateur, and you are obviously a professional."
To my horror, her face crumpled again. What had I said? The shut in look was back, and I was devastated.
"Tell me when the concert is. I'll come, but you don't have to discuss it with me."
"Oh, I'd like to talk about it. But just don't call me a professional."
Ah – maybe that was what this was all about? I'd have to see if she would open up after the concert.
"Have you got a pen, and I'll give you the date and time." She requested.
I handed her my pen and one of the cards I kept in my pocket. One of the advantages of wearing a jacket.
"Why do you carry these cards?" she asked.
It was my turn to blush. "I sometimes think of solutions to work problems, and if I don't write them down I forget. It used to be frustrating, because I would know that I'd solved it, and couldn't remember what the solution was. It happens most frequently at night when I'm going to sleep. I think of the solution, which means I relax and sleep, but the sleep means I forget the solution. So I try to write it down."
She laughed. "It sounds the same as worrying over a piece of composing. It's a good idea. I'll have to keep pencil and manuscript by the bed."
I grinned at her. "I've not eaten yet. Would you like some food?"
She hadn't eaten either, so I unfolded myself from the floor and offered her my hand to get up. She took it – a nice firm grip I noticed – and uncurled from the chair. To my surprise – this girl seemed to surprise me a lot – she was almost as tall as me. I didn't know, but I also had the impression that, under her concealing clothing, she was slim. We edged our way through the throng of people to the food.
I could see a few people glancing askance at us. I had to admit we must have made a funny sight. Me with my jacket and tie, and her with her dark, baggy clothing and trainers. To my surprise, I didn't hear any ribald comments. We filled plates, and she led me through to another room where the music was not so loud. It was easier to talk in there, and we discussed music and making music. Time flew by, and before I knew it people were leaving.
"Can I give you a lift anywhere?"
"Kind, but not necessary. I'm fixed up thanks."
Oh well. Trust me to latch on to a girl who already had a boyfriend. My hopes of mixing my philanthropy with a little personal pleasure died stillborn, and I said goodbye with a heavy heart. I would still go to the concert – I liked the music and it would be a pleasure to watch her play it. I would also continue my efforts to help her.
The concert was electric. The chamber group, Rhapsody, were so talented, and the juxtaposition of jazz and baroque, carefully chosen to show the relationships, really made you think, showing up the similarities as well as the differences in the styles and counterpoint. It was also a pleasure to see her face animated all through the evening. She was alive with the music, with no sign of the shut in girl I had observed. All the players, men and women, wore evening dress, and the male clothes suited her admirably. I had been right – she was tall and slim. And her brown hair was clean and brushed to a shine, hanging in waves down her back.
At the end of the concert I was slightly embarrassed, but I hung about to see if I could meet her. I couldn't see a boyfriend, although she was obviously friendly with a number of the members of the group. To my relief, she came down and greeted me – all animation and smiles.
"Did you enjoy it? We had such fun playing – it was a blast."
"I loved it. Your group is really talented. I've not been much into jazz, but that was a revelation. You'll have to give me some recommendations or loan me some CDs."
"Will you discuss it with me as you promised?"
My hopes leapt. Then I chastised myself. Don't be a fool. You cannot break up a relationship. Then I laughed at myself. Who was I kidding? What chance did I have of forming a relationship, let alone breaking one up?
"I'd love to. It is so interesting. It's a bit late now, but would you have dinner with me tomorrow while it's fresh in our minds? There's a lovely place just round the corner."
She'd looked slightly wary when I suggested dinner, but her face cleared again when she realised it was dinner out. "That would be great. Can you meet early so that we've more time to discuss? How about straight from work? I could meet you there."
"Wonderful. I'll make sure I'm out at six."
I couldn't keep my mind on my work. It kept jumping forward to six o'clock, and backwards to the music the previous evening. In the end I gave up, and did some mundane tasks re-organising my filing. I think I made more tea and coffee that day than in the rest of the week put together. And how the time dragged. Normally the day flew by and I ended up working late.
Finally six o'clock came, and I made a B line for reception to meet her. She was back in camouflage in her dark clothes, but her hair was still shiny from the concert. I took her hand, and she blushed slightly, but didn't pull away. Suddenly I thought that was a good sign. Surely if she had a boyfriend she would have pulled away? I didn't know, but it cheered me anyway.
When we went into the restaurant she seemed slightly nervous, and this intensified when the waiter handed her the menu. Suddenly I realised what it might be.
"Please don't worry about the prices, it's my treat for the pleasure you have given me with your music." It wasn't that expensive, but it wasn't cheap either.
