Love Over Scotland - Alexander Hanchett Smith [138]
Then Bertie had an idea. When the group had gone to Notre Dame on their sightseeing, they had passed through the Latin Quarter and seen a number of people playing their instruments in the street – busking, explained one of the violinists.
“I did that outside Jenners last Christmas,” he said. “I made twenty-four pounds in one morning. Twenty-four pounds! And all I played was ‘Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer’ over and over again. It was dead easy!”
The saxophone which had been borrowed for him was still in his room, and it occurred to Bertie that there was no reason why he should not spend the morning busking in the Latin Quarter. He could play ‘As Time Goes By’ from Casablanca, which people always seemed to like, and he could vary it with some Satie which he had recently learned. He had read that Satie had lived in Paris, and perhaps some of his old friends would recognise his music and give particularly generously. Or Mr Satie himself might pass by, although he must be very old by now, thought Bertie.
Filled with excitement at his plan, Bertie rushed upstairs and retrieved his saxophone. Then, struggling somewhat with the weight of it, he set out from the hotel in the direction of the Latin Quarter. It was heavy going. After a few blocks, Bertie realised that it would take him several hours to walk across Paris 290 Alone in Paris
with his instrument, as he would have to stop at virtually every corner to rest his aching muscles. He felt in his pocket, where his money nestled, neatly folded. A taxi would be expensive, he knew, but even if it took all his funds, there was the money that he would undoubtedly soon earn from his busking. He stood on the edge of the road and waited until a taxi came past. He did not have to wait long, and soon he was seated comfortably in the back of a white Peugeot heading for the point on his map which he had shown to a slightly surprised taxi driver. The journey went quickly and Bertie took the money out of his pocket to pay. He was slightly short of the fare requested, but the driver smiled and indicated that the shortfall was not an issue. Then, staggering under the weight of the borrowed saxophone in its heavy wooden case, he walked a few blocks into the network of narrow streets that made up the Quarter. It did not take him long to find a suitable pitch. Halfway along one street there was a boarded-up doorway off the pavement. With a restaurant next door, a coffee bar a few yards away on the same side, and a student bookshop opposite, it seemed to Bertie that it was an ideal place for him to play. He set the open case down in front of him – as he had seen other buskers do – and, summoning up all his courage, he started to play ‘As Time Goes By’.
The first person to walk past was a woman wearing a long brown coat and with her hair done up in a bun. As she went past Bertie, she glanced at him, took a few more steps, and then stopped and turned round. Fumbling in her purse, she extracted a crumpled banknote and turned to toss it into the open case, murmuring, as she did so: “Petit ange! ”
Bertie acknowledged the donation with a nod of his head –
as he had seen other buskers do – and modulated into one of the jazz tunes he had learned from Lewis Morrison, ‘Goodbye Pork Pie Hat’. This went down very well with the next passerby, a visiting Senegalese civil servant, who clapped his hands in appreciation