Esmé wasn’t at all
sure that Keith would like classical music.
He seemed such a bogan with his strong ocker accent and his daggy
clothes. When he mocked his “conquests”
for dressing daggily he was making a little joke at his own expense. He himself wore “Target jeyns”. He didn’t care, really, what he looked
like. That had been one of the things
which had drawn her to him. It made him
seem so … real man. So … genuine. But now she was worried that he would think
her stuck up. Superior. Middle class and judgmental.
Luke had given her
a pamphlet with the concert program on it.
He was playing the Mozart piece he’d been practising for hours at their
shared house. She knew it off by
heart. She knew where he stopped, where he
broke a note. She knew that she’d be on
tenterhooks for the whole performance, waiting for him to make a mistake. But … to go out with Keith, even if they
weren’t going out. That would make it all magical. Not quite a picnic on the beach or in the
park. But nice all the same.
When she gave the
pamphlet to Keith she was astonished and a little shamed by his response. “Oh, that’s a lovely piece. He wrote it for his friend, you know, who was
a horn player,” he said. “I’d love to
come.”
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