‘œTwenty five,’ was Evelyn’s first thought when she woke and rose from her bed to a chilly and cloudy June morning.’  ‘œMost of my acquaintances married and with growing families.’’  The thought lately was uppermost in her mind.’  Twenty five,’ she repeated to herself as she looked at her reflection.
Looking beyond her reflection through her bedroom window she could see a branch of a slender elm on the background of the red brick wall of their neighbour’™s house.’  Somehow the branch, too, seemed a little sad that morning. Evelyn imagined her parents waiting expectantly for her to appear at breakfast with a smile and a present for her, their cheerful ‘œHappy Birthday, Eve!’, exaggeratingly loud.’  No doubt there would be a gift-wrapped packet on her place at table.’  She smiled to herself in the mirror a little wryly.’ ‘  She should be happy.’  Today of all days of the year. ‘œOf course their warmth was lovely, but she couldn’™t help thinking that life held other, more important promises than her love of music.’  Music, she loved with a passion, but Evelyn would often yearn for something more than the musical phrases that accompanied her wherever she went.
Many in the concert hall audience were certain that her life was a one of romance. She not only played cello superbly,’  but was often called upon to be soloist of a concerto with many an orchestra. The lauded Fredrich Ensemble of which she was a valued member, lent even more to her image in musical circles.’  Evelyn looked so lovely in her flowing black dress with short sleeves. She was slim and pale but the pallor of her smooth skin from so many indoor hours, somehow radiated a vitality that matched her concentration as she played.’  Her dark, almost pitch black shoulder- length hair, beautifully set off her’  attractive face.
‘œHappy birthday, Eve dear.!’’  Her parents voices indeed were in unison as she entered the warm kitchen. An appetising aroma’  of toast lightened her mood considerably.
‘œHullo, mum.’  Hullo Dad.’  Not exactly a lovely day!’’  Her wan smile contrasted with their bright faces. But curiosity took hold as she began unfastening the oblong, rather heavy package, about the size of a shoe box at her place on the kitchen table.’  She had a little difficulty with the rather strong packaging, but, finally exposed, she let out a gasp of delight.’  ‘œHow beautiful!’  How absolutely exquisite!’
She literally beamed back at her parents and understood now their look of expectation as she opened the parcel.’  She stood it on the table admiringly. It was a most beautifully executed statuette of a young woman playing a cello.’  It was made of pure ebony. Heavy, it glowed with a rich lustre that comes to a hard wood polished to a high gloss.
Evelyn’™s face was now pink with delight as she kissed first her father and then her mother.’  She had a feeling, a sudden surge, quite inexplicable, that her life was about to change.
There was a brightness to her step as she walked the’  short distance from the bus stop to the concert hall for rehearsals. Reaching the side entrance door, immediately around a sharp corner of the building, she almost bumped up against a rather impressive young gentleman in a black pin- stripe suit.’  The bowler, however, Evelyn thought, definitely didn’™t suit his youthful appearance, and brought a smile to her face which she tried to conceal.’  She pressed forward to get past, but he stood rather resolutely in front of the door.
She was about to ask him to let her through when he began: ‘œYou’™re Evelyn Ratchkovsky, are you not?’  Please allow me to introduce myself.’  I’™m Irving Morrison.’  A great admirer of yours. I could think of no other way to get to know you, so decided that I would ambush you.’  Please forgive this rather dramatic introduction.’  I know you must be in a hurry,’ he glanced at his watch and continued: ‘œWould you be willing to meet me after rehearsals at the Theatre Restaurant, opposite.’  I’™d like so much to become better acquainted.’
Evelyn, surprised at the unexpected encounter was at first’  a little angry, but, looking again at a boyish grin that did not at all fit his elegant attire said, ‘œAlright, Mr. Irving.’  At the restaurant at twelve.’’  She tried to sound interested but she couldn’™t help feeling a little irritated at the man’™s forwardness.
‘œI’™m looking forward to twelve. Au Revoir Miss. Ratchkovsky.’
During the rehearsal Evelyn’™s mind was in a whirl.’  Had this meeting anything to do with that extraordinary feeling she had when she first looked upon that lovely statuette?’  She wondered. She had thought then of a change.’  A change in her life. The thought was quite a shock to her.
Her lack of concentration was apparent to the conductor who more than once glanced in her direction.’  Evelyn became flustered and played unforgivably.’  The conductor, a patient man generally, stopped, took Evelyn aside and asked if anything was the matter.
‘œNo, Mr. Kingsly, I have a little headache, that’™s all.’  I’™ll be alright.’’  Nothing like this had happened before.’  She was ashamed and furious at herself. ‘œThe statuette, Irving Morrison ‘“ and now this! ‘œ
She shook herself to clear her mind and managed to complete the rehearsal without further mishap though not to her usual standard.
‘œI am so glad you came.’’  Irving’™s extended hand toward her Evelyn disregarded.’  A little abashed he replaced it at his side.’  ‘œMiss. Ratchkovsky comes so hard to the tongue.’  May I call you Evelyn?’  Won’™t you sit?’  Will you have a coffee and a cake perhaps?’
Evelyn now spoke for the first time, her emotions turbulent: ‘œThe rehearsal went erribly,’ she said and felt tears welling up behind her lids. She dabbed her eyes and said,’  ‘œIt’™s the first time in the four years that I am with the orchestra that the conductor has taken me aside.’  I am so ashamed!’
Irving noticed Evelyn’™s distress.’  He had an urge to put an arm around her to comfort her.’  Instead he said:’  ‘œI’™m truly sorry, Evelyn if I had anything to do with the incident.’  I did not mean to disconcert you. Truly, I’™m so sorry.’
Evelyn looked at him.’  He did look genuine and far nicer without the bowler on his head. She calmed a little and sat.
‘œMy music is my life.’  I love it so much …’
‘œI know,’ said Irving seriously.’  You see, you may not know me but I feel I know you so well.’  Though I don’™t play anything, I love music.’  I come to so many of your concerts.’  You play so beautifully -so thoughtfully.’  I wanted very much to meet you.’  That’™s the truth of it.’
Irving was watching now her reaction to his short outburst. He felt he had let his emotions carry him too far.’  Again he held his hand out to her over the table, this time to pass to her a card which she took from him. She gave it a glance.Irving Morrison, it read. Income Tax Consultant & Accountant.’
She looked again at him.’  ‘œDoes this go with a love of music?’
‘œAh – yes!’  One has to be down to earth to live well and to love the arts in order to live fully.’  Don’™t you think so?’  I think that at heart I am an artist, not an accountant.’
But Evelyn’™s head was in a whirl.’  She had made her art her life. In her soul, however, she felt that there must be more to life than the Brahms’™ Double Concerto.’  But for Evelyn the notes, the phrases’  in the music had a soul of their own.’  She felt them and lived within their sounds.
‘œYou seem not to be with me, Evelyn.’  I’™m afraid I have rather shocked you – approached you too suddenly.’  I’™m sorry.’  I meant, of course, only well and would like to see you again.’  All I shall add for now is that it was with a very great pleasure that I finally met you.’  I shall be waiting daily for a call that you are willing to meet me again.’
They both had risen from the table and this time when Irving extended his hand Evelyn took it.
‘œIt was a pleasure , Mr. Morrison.’  Perhaps … perhaps we shall meet again.’’  She smiled uncompromisingly.

On the bus home confusion still reigned in Evelyn’™s mind.’  She felt that her world had all of a sudden turned upside down.’  In her fantasy world the partner that was to complete her life had been part of her music, not an accountant – a tax consultant!
Although her face showed signs of strain, her mother made no mention of anything. In the silence of her room, Evelyn rremoved her second cello from its case and began to play.’  She played the second movement of the Brahm’™s double concerto, in her mind hearing the violin and other parts as she played.’  The piece had always brought tears to her eyes.’  It seemed to epitomise her desire at once for a fuller life yet also her devotion and love for her world of music. As she played tears were rolling down her cheeks.’  Evelyn felt that the movement contained all the longings for a fuller life, her dilemma and broken heart.
Unable to complete the movement, Evelyn put the cello’  back in its case and leaving the case open, lay on her stomach while deep sobs raked her body and her mind.’  Still sobbing she fell into a troubled sleep.
Evelyn awoke surprised to find that she was more refreshed, more contented than she had expected to be.’  On impulse, she reached into her bag and removed a small white card.’  She looked at it and smiled remembering the ridiculous bowler hat.’  Her gaze now travelled to the statuette that she had carefully placed on a small dresser that stood in the corner of her room. She rose. Going over to it she gently stroked the polished ebony reflectively with her index finger. ‘œAs important as you are to me,’ she said in a soft voice, ‘œYou are not all my life.’
She went over to her phone and began dialling.