“Elodie says, Doris hasn’t stopped asking about music since your first concert.” She adds, again trying to hide her eagerness.
“So, she does talk?”
“Only when she’s comfortable with someone, it takes a long time to build trust and she’s still terrified of men.”
“Then how can I play for her if she’s terrified?”
“Well… I thought you could play upstairs in your room, and she can sit here with me.”
I shake my head. “The acoustics would be all wrong. Besides, what makes you think she’ll even agree to come into the house if I’m in it?”
Lessa’s shoulders slump and the excitement is her eyes fades away. “You’re right. She won’t.”
I hate that I’ve nixed the only wonderful idea she’s had in weeks. I’d give anything to not disappoint her “Unless…” I say, thinking aloud. “What if she sits outside in the garden, and I play inside here?”
Lessa throws her arms around me. “Thank you, thank you, that’s a great idea.”
The hug smears mustard and honey on both of us. “Okay, go tell Elodie the good news.” I extract the squished sandwich from between us.
???
After much consultation with Elodie, who talks to Doris, we come up with a plan for Tuesday afternoon. Lessa found a comfortable chair to put outside along with a small table with a pot of tea and some biscuits. She keeps going in and out, testing the visibility and has decided I should stand against the wall between the two bay windows. That way Doris would not see me unless she actually leaned on the windowsill and stuck her head inside. I’m under strict instruction not to talk to her. For my part, I’ve been preparing, trying out various pieces, adapting a couple that might be a good introduction. I even do my embouchure exercises, which Lessa finds hilarious.
“This is the worst kind of whistling I ever heard.”
“I’m not whistling. It’s practice to improve my lips.”
“What’s wrong with your lips? They look fine to me.” She winks coming back inside.
Now and then, like just now, there’s a current of light flirtation between us. It’s mostly fun. I blow her an exaggerated kiss which makes her laugh.
“Can I help you with anything?” she asks looking for something else to do.
“Sit on the sofa so if Doris chances to look, she can see you and be reassured.” It’s the only way to get her to stop running around and rest.
We agreed on 2:30pm when the day is likely to be at its warmest. I can’t see if Doris is here already but at the appointed time, I simply start with a simplified version of a Vivaldi oboe sonata, a cheerful piece which lasts about fifteen minutes.
If Doris is outside, she’s being as quiet as a stone. Elodie and Hal’s advice was to not make a big deal, so we carry on, me playing, Lessa on the sofa, pretending to read a book.
At the end, I lower the oboe back on its stand. “Next Tuesday. Same time, I’ll play something else.” I keep my voice low and unthreatening. I’ve never thought of myself as a threat; it’s strange to realise that just by being a man, I can frighten someone.
It’s dead quite outside. We sit for an hour then go outside and find two of the biscuits have been eaten.
Lessa squeezes her palms together and does a little happy jig.
For her sake, as much as Doris’, I am determined to make the garden concerts a success. It’s a good time to look up the swing Lessa wanted from that garden furniture catalogue.
My gardening budget is limited, I’ve already run through Liam’s legacy and am using my own savings. It’s not a worry just yet; living on La Canette, it’s easy to be as frugal as a monk. In the past, my biggest expense was going out to restaurants and bars, theatres or concerts; here, even electricians and builders are cheap. Besides, our next-door neighbours offered a lot of help for free. So, why not take Lessa’s advice? I order a pretty wrought iron seat, a wooden bench, and of course, the swing. If I get the Concertgebouw job, I’ll be making decent money soon and who knows I might even splash out on landscaping the forest of deadly thorns and extend the garden down the hill.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Lessa
Brandon, I’ve discovered, is a careful thinker, but once he makes a decision, he is determined to see it through to the end.
I’ve been so worried that I might have pushed him into this ‘garden concert’ as he likes to call it. I could have sworn he only went along as a favour to me, but he’s really put his heart into it.
Doris has come every Tuesday for three weeks now, and every time Brandon plays something utterly beautiful.
