Alex hated this hour, this intervening hour. He wished they could get it out of the way at once – but Mrs. Hague insisted on an hour of carols, an hour’s break, and then a further hour. He didn’t even get paid for the hour inbetween, or any food – not normally at least. That’s why this time Alex decided he was fed up of this gig, and was going to go join the party. He accompanied this choir quite often, and had got to know some of the guys quite well. They couldn’t believe it when he got up to leave the old kitchen where they were penned for the break. They were riling him up about getting caught, but Alex knew secretly they were just jealous; they had to wear silly cassocks and would never be able to mingle – the time had come to take his chances.
With some trepidation he made his way down the hall, but a couple were wandering behind him, so he had to stroll nonchalantly out into the main room. There must have been a hundred, maybe more, people there, all talking in excited voices. It was the run up to Christmas, and there were only a few more working days left – the mulled wine was lowering inhibitions all around. The heat in the room was almost unbearable, everyone was glazed in a layer of sweat. Alex had played these carols hundreds of times before, and knew them by heart, which left him time to gaze around the room. There were plenty of girls at the party; Mrs. Hague might be getting a bit long in the tooth, but she was a fine woman in her day, and still liked to be surrounded by beautiful people. The finest reds and golds were out in force tonight, all the dresses were festive, quite a feast for his eyes. But one stuck out, and his gaze now fixed upon it across the room. The dress was quite unremarkable when compared to some that were present; plain, short and red. It was the perfect amber legs and arms protruding from it which held him transfixed. He had to move in order to gain a better view, but was it well worth it. This girl was something special, deep brown hair fell about her long neck onto her shoulders and her eyes sparkled as she laughed, surrounded by three men competing for her attention. As she turned, she caught Alex’s eye and held it for a moment before moving to talk to somebody else. Alex could do nothing but stare, bedazzled.
The gaze was dropped in angst; Alex heard the unmistakably grating strains of Mrs. Hague behind him, and dived into the nearest doorway. He stood rigidly pressed against the wall, but soon was chuckling at himself, after all, why would anyone come in this darkened room during a party. To his relief, Mrs. Hague’s voice moved to the far side of the other room, still piercing through the crowd. Brain decided he’d probably be best off going back to the kitchens and facing the ridicule of the other musicians, rather than take the risk of being caught. He was so desperate to get another glimpse of the girl in the red dress again, but then he could always watch out for her while he was playing. He was just about to slip back into the corridor when, as his eyes grew accustomed to the light, he made out the unmistakable shape of a grand piano in the far corner of the room. In the other room he had been playing an upright, incongruously placed by the doorway; a horrid instrument with no tone. This looked to be something quite different.
Alex walked over to this piano; afraid to turn on the light, he instead drew back the curtain and let a small pool of moonlight fall upon the instrument. A Steinway, and from the carvings on the lid it was an early model, worth hundreds of thousands. As for the sound; he knew the tone would be amazing. It was rare he even got a chance to see an instrument like this, let alone play one. He told himself he would just tinkle a little, and should he get caught, he could just claim he was practising. He threw his jacket on a chair, pulled back the stool and adjusted it slightly. His fingers tentatively stroked the keys, the ivory absorbing the sweat from his fingertips. Nervously he played a few notes, and even quietly the tone was fabulous. He might never again have the chance to play such a wonderful instrument and started, very slowly, to play a few chords. Closing his eyes, he moulded the music into a variation by Rachmaninov. Some of the most romantic music ever written, he often played it on a piano he was virgin to, and this instrument responded very well.
Just as the second phrase began, something brought him from his dream, a smell he thought, a subtle perfume as he took deep languorous breaths in time with the music. His eyes flicked open, but nobody was at the door. Something was different, though, he was sure he hadn’t pushed it to. He took his fingers from the keys, and was about to stand when, behind him, and just above a whisper, he heard, “Please play.” The voice stunned him, partly in shock that someone had slipped in unnoticed, but mainly the creamy, angelic tone of voice. He started to turn to see who was there, but as his shoulders shifted, the girl spoke again, with more urgency, “No, please, just play. Please.”
Alex was confused, but had no doubt what he was going to do. He felt nervous, a different kind to before, this was excitement, not fear of reprisal. He started the variation again, with a little more confidence, and let the full texture of the instrument fill the room. He heard a rustle and then the cold sound of a key turning in a lock, juxtaposed with the lush sound of the piano. He began the second phrase again, and he knew she was standing behind him once more, he could sense her, smell the same intoxicating perfume, more stringent now, coupled with a more human smell. The hairs on the back of his neck rose a little, and he felt blood pumping to all parts of his body, his heart racing as the tempo of the music moved on. Another rustle behind him, but this was different, he knew she had not moved. He felt something be draped around his neck, cold against his flushed skin. It felt strange, the softness of a silk scarf. He glanced downwards, and was the loops of a dress, the exact same rose red colour from the girl’s dress outside.
