The Anonymous Patron

I arrived at the appointed place (an old fashioned Gentleman's Club called 'Stag on the Moor' on the top floor of an old fashioned building in the centre of the city) at the appointed time, 11.45 am precisely.
A distinguished grey beard met me at the front door of the club. I must admit I was a little put out by the somewhat disparaging look he gave my coat. I could hardly explain that it was a couturier piece designed and sewed especially for me by Norma Jean.
He led me through a wood panelled hall, red velvet drapes and clouds of cigar smoke to a large and dimly lit sitting room. In one corner there were two Japanese men in well tailored suits sipping on large snifters of brandy. The room was otherwise empty. Or so I thought. I was led to a plush arm chair in the far corner of the room. As I settled myself my eye was caught by a distracting to and fro movement. I glanced at the seat opposite, which I had thought was unoccupied. But as my eyes adjusted to the gloom I realised that distracting motion came from the to and fro of one supremely elegantly shod foot. A brogue of dark tan leather. The rest of the figure was lost in utter darkness. Suddenly I saw that the room, far from being randomly gloomy, was in fact a masterpiece of ingenious lighting. For this one corner seat, from its rough shape I gathered, an armchair, was in total darkness.
A puff of heavy smoke issued from the darkness.
"Welcome my friend" in a rasping whisper.
I must admit, though I am usually quite socially able, this Dickensian presence was rather overwhelming.
"H..h..hello Sir" I managed.
I was in the presence of the Anonymous Patron. A rather uncomfortable silence ensued whilst he inspected me. I finally remembered my man bag and the small gift I had brought. I fumbled about and produced the little shell key ring souvenir I had brought him. I had thought it was quite charming when I bought it.
"For you Sir...A small token of my gratitude..."
"Yes yes. Quite unnecessary. Just put it on the table" he whispered
A little deflated (and I will admit, trembling slightly) I did so. The gaudy little object shone like neon against that antique glow.
"So" he said
I was startled as a waiter leaned down next to my ear "A drink Sir?"
"Oh, um yes I would like..."
"No no Reginald. My guest won't be staying" Amazing how forceful a raspy whisper can be.
"Of course Sir" replied the waiter, melting away.
"So. I have seen the video"
"Yes Sir" I replied
"It has some merit"
I was somewhat relieved until...
"BUT"
"Yes Sir?"
"Well. Production values, I don't need to tell you, were appalling. I could barely make out the figures in the background, which was a shame as I rather liked them when I realised they were references to Gauguin paintings. Also for the next piece it would be best to avoid singing."
"Yes Sir" I said, feeling rather crushed.
We sat in silence as I waited for him to go on.
"That is all. You may submit your next proposal to me through Hugo as before."
"Oh. Yes. I see."
"Goodbye" he said, issuing another puff of smoke in my direction.
Fumblingly I gathered myself up and extricated myself from the rather voluminous chair. My legs got a little tangled and I made a strange little half twist-stumble-bow before scurrying away. I could swear I heard a little chuckle as I was leaving but I dared not look back.
It wasn't until I reached the street that I realised he had offered to consider another proposal from me, and to feel a little happy about that, despite his somewhat stinging remarks. Xavier had kindly accompanied me and was waiting in our favourite down town book shop, which has a cafe attached. I ate a Ploughman's lunch, a malt milkshake, two pieces of carrot cake and had a cup of tea before I felt I could talk about my ordeal.
I was dismayed when Xavier laughed as I related the comment on my singing....he could have told me before!