The Flautist. Part Three

"Professor!"

Kate stopped and turned. The receptionist waved her hand. 

"There's some correspondence for you."

"Thank you."

An envelope had to be brought in by someone, it was not postmarked and had no return address. Just Kate's name. Professor Catherine . . . 

Inside was a business card. Michelle's name, email and phone. Not a word. 

Kate put everything in her purse. There was something in it. A packet of cigarettes. She never smoked, it was true, but now she felt like an addict. She wanted it so badly and hated the feeling, hated herself for the lack of control. She squeezed the pack with all her strength and threw it into the dustbin. Damn it. 

That evening, after all her classes, she picked up the phone and typed in Michelle's number. Add. 

Denied.

What. How. Try again. 

Add.

"Couldn't save contact."

Kate looked down helplessly at her phone. She spotted another contact she had received from a German. It was full of dots over letters, but she got the name without them. And Michelle's last name had some accents. Kate tried without them. 

Contact added. 

She made a call. They arranged the first rehearsal for Saturday morning. 

***

"'Gosh, I had a terrible night. I am barely awake."

"Coffee?"

"No! I mean, thanks. Maybe a glass of water. Coffee dehydrates you and you can't play in that state."

"You don't look like playing." 

"I'll be better. We should go through your scores and work out a programme. I don't need to be in top form."

Yes, Kate thought. You still look gorgeous. If I hadn't slept all night I would have been completely exhausted. 

"A glass of water for you and a coffee for me."

There were lots of scores to choose from. In the end, they settled on variations on "Greensleeves" from the 17th century, Handel's sonata in E minor and Giuliani's sonata in A major. With some transcriptions for the encore. 

Michelle did not know this particular Greensleeves setting and had never heard of Giuliani. But she knew Handel, of course. She had just never played it with guitar accompaniment. She wanted to try it and check the sound and balance. 

Kate played the selection with a few other players, mostly violinists. God bless ad libitum instrumentation. She had her favourite tempos and when they began Handel's Sonata, she was about to put Michelle to the test. 

"Not too slow." Michelle asked in her warm, gentle voice. It sounded like an order all the same. 

Kate felt a chill. It started so early, right away. A fight for dominance. Damn it. How many hopeless, fruitless rehearsals would they have to go through before they found a way to get out of the contract and stay on good terms?

Kate started her part, a typical baroque walking bass line. Michelle entered with her long, endless note. It was a firm, confident statement, both sweet and powerful. This girl has got it, Kate thought. 

"Ah, damn, I'm out of breath!"

"Sorry, I played too slow. I just loved your sound. Shall we start again? The adagio is not that slow, my fault."

They started again, at a much more appropriate tempo. The flute began to sing, filling the room with bright sound, contrasting with the darkness of the E minor key. 

"Those three notes," Kate asked. "Please, emphasise the second. I have the answer here and I want to play it like this," she produced the motif on her guitar. The first note trampolined to the second and landed softly on the third. Michelle's eyes changed. She looked through the wall at a place only she knew. Then she lifted her flute, closed her eyes and produced the three notes. They were what Kate had asked for. Exactly. But there was more. So much more. Kate's response was like a distant echo, thankfully, as the composer had intended. When the motif came a second time, Michelle gave it even more meaning, and the response in guitar, this time coming earlier, sounded like the perfect support of a friend. This was it. The baroque art of musical conversation. 

"Please do a little cadenza at the end."

They repeated the last phrase and Michelle embellished it to perfection. 

"Wow!"

"I just let my fingers go. Sorry, I have no brain today. I'll come up with something decent next time."

"Please don't! It was perfect!"

"We'll see. I promise I will return to this silliness if you do not like my cleverly constructed rendition. Now let's try the next part."

"Just not too fast. I have this semiquaver madness down there, here and here."

Michelle looked at Kate with a hint of disgust. 

"Don't hemidemisemiquaver me!"

That was it. The fight. The sooner the better. Kate could not take a step back. She looked at Michelle with narrowed eyes and said slowly, rattling the 'r':

"Crotchet." 

The bullet was fired. There was no turning back. 

Michelle was hit. She burst into a short laugh. 

"Ha! If you do not strangle me on my half note tied to the dotted quarter, I will try not to break your neck on your semis."

"You won't suffocate on my quavers, it's only a minim after all. Grave?"

Michelle nodded. She cued the tempo with her flute. They played the first two notes together perfectly, signing a pact of mutual understanding. Kate played her support, listening to the silky waves of the flute. Everything was as it should be. 

"I have no comments. I think we have that movement already."

"Agreed. Perhaps. Maybe. We'll see. Let's do the finale."

Kate did not object. She knew that the flautist needed many breaks during rehearsals and if they wanted to play the finale now, while they were still in the mood, they should do it now. 

Michelle played the finale, a graceful minuet, without any embellishment, just raw notes, contrary to what the other players usually did. Soon the parts started not to fit. What a bummer. 

"You can't cut that long note at the beginning of the bar, or the whole court will fall." 

"What court? What are you talking about?"

Kate sighed. So that was the reason. She looked at Michelle with a little surprise and asked:

"You danced the minuet, didn't you?"

"No, never, what's the point?"

"Look," Kate said. She put her instrument down, took off her shoes and moved further into the room to get some space.

"This is called the pas de menuet, and it is made up of six steps. One, step forward on the ball, two, the other leg follows in the air - you see, I have to keep my stability, if you rush here, I will fall forward! Three - land.  You have to be precise here so that when the dancers land on their full feet, they land safely.  Four, five, ball, ball, six - leg to leg and land. This is the same as two and three but in half the time."

Michelle hummed the tune, Kate danced. 

"Madame, voudriez-vous m'offrir cette danse?" Kate held out her arm and offered Michelle a hand. The brunette put her flute down and stood up. 

"Take off your shoes. When you learn the steps, always barefoot."

Michelle learnt the steps quickly. After a minute or two she could do them in a straight line, so Kate introduced the figure where the dancers circled around each other. 

"On the court they couldn't hold hands. They could only touch each other's fingertips."

Michelle curled her fingers and approached Kate's fingertips. She felt it down her spine, it was too much. The wave of pleasure . . . she quickly pulled her hand back. 

"Damn static," she lied. "Did you feel that?" 

Rrrrright. Kate felt a whole thunder of electricity as their fingers met. 

"Nope," she lied in return. "OK, put your palm on mine and let's try to dance it again, then we'll try to play it."

They danced gracefully singing their minuet. Kate, trying to prove her point, cut the note short and they both fell. 

Fortunately onto something soft and comfortable.

"We always end up in bed when we dance." Kate laughed. 

"So do we," Michelle agreed, giving her friend a hug. Then . . . a kiss.


***


After the most satisfying cadenza, they rested in each other's arms. Each wanted more, but neither could continue.

"I'm sorry, I have no endurance," Kate said.

"Sweetheart, it took us two hours, just this once."  

"Oh no. You kept looking at the clock? Again?"

Michelle laughed.

"No. Just when we fell, I wanted to know how much time I had before I had to go. And I checked it now."

"What have we done . . . " Kate sighed. "I can't go to bed with every one of my concert partners. Actually, I never . . . "

"I want to be more than your concert-partner, Cath . . . "

"Don't call me CATH!!!"

"All right, all right! I am sorry! I really am! You know, if all you think is 'don't call her Cath, don't call her Cath', you're bound to fail. Do you follow me?"

Kate nodded. The pink elephant effect.

"I will call you Samantha. It will be the name just for me."

"Well then, I will call you . . . Nicolette."

"Sounds like the chewing gum that helps you stop smoking."

"Not exactly, but you can help me give up bad habits." 

Kate paused for a moment, then gave Michelle a wicked smile.

"Now, my little Nicolette, I can sing that song!" 

"Which son ... "

Michelle, ma belle!

"Oh, that song!" Michelle-Nicolette laughed and joined Kate-Samantha in I LOVE YOU-I LOVE YOU-I LOVE YOU! Trained musicians, they did sing in thirds, giving the phrase a unique sense of harmony.