Keith Straw  -  My Stories

Week One

Bert, Marilyn, Brahms and Mozart 

The question was how could he contact her to get to know her?

John Herbert Foster, better known as Bert, was in a reverie. It was a quiet Monday afternoon in the shop, and the men’s outfitters department, over which Bert presided, was free of customers. Over to his right, in the perfumery department, was the Apparition, busily rearranging perfumery items on a shelf.

She was blonde and buxom, with her face immaculately made up, as befitted her position in perfumery, and she wore a black dress.

“What a smasher – she must be new”, thought Bert, wondering whether he could arrange for their paths to cross.

During the lunch break in the canteen, the opportunity presented itself. Bert had just helped himself to burger and chips and was looking for somewhere to sit when he noticed her, sitting alone.

“Do you mind if I join you?” he asked.

“Help yourself”.

“I’m Bert”, he said

“Marilyn” was the reply.

Bert sat down and arranged his plate and cutlery on the table. “Are you new here? I haven’t seen you before”.

“I started last week.  I was working at Boots”.

“I’ve been here eight years – this is my first job - I came here straight from school”.

“You must like it here. I’ve had lots of jobs”.

And so the inconsequential chat went on, until at the appropriate time,

"Would you like to meet me tonight? We could go for a drink and a pizza”.

“I’m sorry, but tonight is my choir night, and we have a concert on Saturday”

Bert was immediately out of his depth. He was completely unmusical. He was still living with his parents; there had never been music at home and mum and dad didn’t even have a record player. Dad was tone deaf and mother indifferent; they especially hated the regular “thump thump” which emanated from the open windows of cars belonging to some of Bert’s friends. Bert’s sole experience of music came from discos and the groups which played at the gigs he had attended.

“We’re singing the Brahms Requiem”, she added, “Would you like to come?”

Bert’s heart sank, “O.K.”, he replied, somewhat reluctantly, but anxious to get to know her better.

 ___________

The concert was held in the local church. Bert entered these unfamiliar surroundings with some trepidation, wondering whether he should perform some religious rite such as genuflecting or anointing himself with holy water. However there were people about talking in quite loud voices so he thought that perhaps on this occasion such observances were unnecessary.

He bought a programme from a dinner jacketed attendant and was shown to a seat at the end of a hard wooden pew. He looked at his surroundings – the stained glass and the Victorian Gothic splendour of the wooden angels in the roof and the carved foliage in the capitals of the columns. Bert was not entirely without soul and he realised there was something special here, but didn’t understand quite what it was.

“Excuse me”, a rather stern and hard faced lady was standing in the aisle, her greying hair tied tightly in a bun “May I pass?” Bert squeezed himself against the back of the pew as she passed and sat next to him.

The choir entered and took their seats, after which the cassocked figure of the vicar appeared in the pulpit to address the audience

“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to St Bartholomew’s. Tonight we are fortunate to have with us the Netherbury Choral Society, accompanied on the piano by Miss Gloria Pritchard.  Tonight they will perform for us Brahms’ Requiem Mass. May I remind you all that this is a holy place and we shall be hearing a religious work. It would therefore be quite inappropriate to applaud during the work or at the end. May I suggest that, if you wish, you may show your appreciation by standing for a short time at the conclusion of the work. I hope you enjoy the concert”.

 With the audience suitably deflated, the vicar stepped down from the pulpit and a tall, emaciated youth with straggly long hair and wearing a black shirt appeared, carrying a baton. He climbed on to the rostrum in front of the choir, nervously bowed to the audience and then, raising his baton, faced the choir. The music began.

First there was a long and sombre introduction on the piano by the accompanist. “When will they start singing”, thought Bert, and then they did – in German! His heart sank – what had he let himself in for? He looked around. The severe lady next to him had closed her eyes and was nodding sedately to the music; a gentleman across the aisle had raised his hand and was beating time; near him was another elderly gent who was already asleep.

Bert’s attention wandered. “Is her name on the programme”, he thought. He leaved noisily through the pages when he was nudged by the severe lady who disapprovingly waved her finger at him whilst those in the pew in front turned and looked at him angrily. He sighed and froze in his seat, trying hard to concentrate on the music. By now the choir were manfully attempting “Wie lieblich sind deine Wohnungen” and Bert wished he had never agreed to be there. And so the concert went eternally on until Bert realised that the music had stopped as the audience stood in silent appreciation. Bert also stood, but in his case it was to give thanks that it was at last all over.

 But after the concert the situation improved. Marilyn agreed to go to the pub where she had an orange juice whilst Bert had his usual pint. He walked her to her home where the evening ended with a modest farewell kiss on the cheek, after she had agreed to meet him at the weekend to go for a pizza.

At work the following day Bert spotted her at the other side of the shop; she smiled and gave him a cheery wave. “No more concerts”, Bert thought.

___________

And so Saturday arrived, and it all went very well. At the Pizza Restaurant Bert had an American Hot and a beer whilst Marilyn had a Florentina and a glass of white wine. The conversation flowed freely; Bert learned all about her dad, who was an insurance agent, and mum, from whom she had inherited her love for music.

He walked her home but this time at her doorstep she permitted a kiss on the lips. “Slowly but surely”, Bert thought.

“There’s opera on next week at the theatre in Bradfield”’ she whispered, “Shall we go?”

Bert thought deeply. Could he stand another musical evening? His first reaction was that he could not, but on reflection he thought he was making steady progress, after all. Perhaps the theatre would be different, at least the seats would be upholstered and Marilyn, rather then frosty face, would be sitting next to him.

“O.K.”, was his delayed response.

“Lovely”, she replied, “I’ll get the tickets – would Thursday suit you?”

Another kiss, this time little more passionate, and Bert was then on his way home.

___________

Soon it was Thursday.  Bert did not possess a car and so they went on the bus to Bradfield, which was about ten miles away.

Bert had never been to the theatre before and he was most surprised by its size and the colourful baroque style decoration. Marilyn had booked them good seats in the circle and soon they were sitting there looking around the building and at the programme. Bert discovered that the opera was called “The Marriage of Figaro” by Mozart and it was to be performed by the Arturo Rosario Opera Company.

There was a buzz of anticipation in the audience and Marilyn talked excitedly about the story of the opera as they waited for the start. The audience quietened as the lights dimmed and then the conductor entered, splendidly attired in white tie and tails, to be greeted by spontaneous applause.

The overture started and Bert liked the music immediately – it was bright, cheerful and melodious, so different from the sombre music he had heard in the church in Netherbury.

And then the actors entered. Figaro and Susanna were measuring the room which was to be their bedroom after they married. Susanna is worried because the room, allocated to them by their employer the Count, was too accessible to the Count himself, who may well be tempted to exercise his seigniorial rights in Figaro’s absence.

Bert found himself really enjoying the experience. The music was light hearted and exuberant, the acting good and the story actually funny. He found himself laughing aloud at the unlikely farcical situations in which the characters found themselves. The singers appeared to be having a wonderful time and the audience were loving it.

Bert was intoxicated. This was a new experience for him. Figaro was warning the page Cherubino, who was about to join the forces, of the rigours of army life.

Bert looked at Marilyn – she was transfixed, her eyes shone and there was a smile on her lips. “What’s happening to me?” thought Bert. He felt as though he had been taken over – no longer in charge of his own destiny.

“Now you days of philandering are over”, he heard Figaro sing.

“Yes, perhaps they are”, he thought.

___________