Impossible to Forget(13)

‘Oh look. A party in my corridor,’ said a familiar voice to her left, cutting across her thoughts.

She hadn’t noticed Leon arrive – when did you notice Leon at all, really? – but here he was, and if she didn’t play the situation carefully, he would attach himself to her and spoil whatever chance she might have with Tiger.

‘Hi,’ she said, a little brusquely.

‘Hi!’ said Tiger with far more enthusiasm. ‘I’m Tiger. Mate of Angie’s. And you are?’

‘Leon,’ said Leon. ‘That’s my room there.’ He nodded at his door, now totally inaccessible for the mess of sprawling students that lay in front of it.

‘Have a drink, Leon,’ said Tiger, pulling one of his cans free from its plastic ring and passing it to him.

‘Cheers,’ said Leon. ‘I’ll just . . .’ He leaned over the throng, unlocked his door and chucked his rucksack on to his unmade bed.

‘Is that a sax?’ asked Tiger, peering inside the room.

The saxophone sat, as it had done since the beginning of the year, on its stand in the corner. Maggie had never seen Leon play it. It had even crossed her mind that he had only brought it as an accessory to decorate his room, a kind of pointer to the sort of person that he aspired to be, like a record collection or bookshelf. She had asked him about it once, but he had just brushed her off. He hadn’t offered to show her or even seemed prepared to talk about it. If he could actually play, then the contrast between him and the confident and relaxed way that Tiger handled Angie’s guitar couldn’t have been more marked.

Today, at least, the instrument was free of underwear adornments. Maggie waited to see how Leon would reply.

Simply, it appeared.

‘Yes,’ he said.

‘I assume you play,’ Tiger pressed.

‘I do,’ said Leon.

It was like the two of them were stalking one another with their words.

‘Go on then,’ challenged Tiger.

Maggie watched with interest. She assumed that Leon would respond in that shy, modest way that most people did when asked to play in public. That would certainly accord with what she knew about him. And Tiger was so chilled and cool that that alone would surely put Leon off.

So, when Leon said, ‘Okay,’ and stood up, she couldn’t have been more surprised. Her feelings changed then to something more protective. She liked Leon. She didn’t want these people to laugh at him, to snigger behind his back. He had missed Tiger’s turn and so didn’t know how well he had played, that the musical bar had already been set quite high. Part of her wanted to cause a distraction so that he didn’t have to put himself through the embarrassment.

But Leon wasn’t a child, and she wasn’t his mother.

She watched as he attached the strap to the saxophone and looped it over his head. He took the cap off the mouthpiece and licked the reed, making sure it was suitably damp. Then he put the instrument to his lips and blew.





8


He played Gershwin’s ‘Rhapsody in Blue’.

The opening trill caught the assembled crowd. Hands holding drinks hovered in the space between waist and mouth as surprise and then astonishment circulated. The music was lilting. The notes hung in the air, suspended on invisible threads and then faded and disappeared only to be replaced by others so entirely perfect that it was hard to believe that they hadn’t been there all the time. They twisted and turned, were bent in and out of shape, grew and were then dismissed as Leon’s fingers moved across the valves. It was as if the music had taken hold of them, hold of the air even, and kept them motionless, like a charm.

Maggie felt her jaw drop.

How was this unassuming boy, who she’d thought she was getting to know quite well, capable of producing such a beautiful sound and yet she hadn’t known, had had no idea whatsoever? How had he kept it hidden? Why didn’t his talent just shine out of him from the moment he woke up in the morning, in his sleep even! There was absolutely nothing about Leon, no clue whatsoever, that might give away this part of him.

Angie was the first to break the spell.

‘Bloody hell, Leon!’ she said. ‘You kept that quiet. You play like a pro. A real pro.’ She cast her gaze around the collected group for confirmation of her thoughts.

‘Respect, man!’ said Tiger. ‘Wow! I mean, just WOW.’

Leon, who seemed to have been transported to some other plane whilst playing, lowered the sax and looked at his feet and suddenly the Leon that Maggie knew, self-effacing, a bit nerdy and bland, reappeared. He shrugged one shoulder but didn’t seem to know what to say.

‘Leon, you’re incredible,’ said Maggie. ‘Where did you learn to play like that? And how come I’ve never heard you?’

Leon shrugged again. ‘I don’t play that often here. There never seems to be time. Sometimes, late at night . . .’

Maggie had heard haunting jazz sax playing when she’d been writing essays in the small hours, but it had never occurred to her that the music was actually live.

‘I’ve heard you,’ she said. ‘Or at least, I think I have, but I didn’t realise it was you. I thought it was just someone playing a record. It never crossed my mind. I mean, I’m sorry, I just had no idea.’

‘It’s okay,’ said Leon, turning to put the sax back on the stand.