She danced as though her shoes were enchanted. The music from the portable cassette player was coarse and unrefined but her movements turned it into a thing of beauty. Her long dark hair flowed behind her as she whirled and spun like thistledown on the wind, lighter than air, brighter than the streetlights that reflected off the wet pavement. Passers-by, rushing from office to railway station, forgot their hurry and stopped to stare but she gave them neither glance nor thought.

Daniel stood by the railings and watched her dance. Though the dancer's long white swirling dress remained spotless, the rain had long since soaked through his hair and his coat. Daniel did not give a thought to his own discomfort. Nothing mattered except to watch her; this apparition of strange loveliness, dancing in the street.

A passing taxi threw up a tidal wave of rainwater over Daniel's neat black trousers and expensive shoes, and he stepped back a pace, cursing under his breath. When he looked again, the girl was gone. With an odd feeling of yearning lodged deep inside him, he lowered his head and turned towards home.

On the approach to the station, a voice disturbed his thoughts. He stopped and looked to the place from which the voice had come. In a shop doorway, wrapped in a shabby grey blanket, a young man looked at Daniel with hopeful eyes. He wore a threadbare woollen hat, and in front of him, roughly pencilled on the torn-off lid of a cardboard box, were the words HOMELESS AND HUNGRY. Daniel had seen the youth many times, curled up in this very doorway, but this was the first time he had really taken notice.

"Pardon?" Daniel said with a frown.

"I said, have you got any change, mister?" the youth replied.

"Um, yes," Daniel replied, rummaging in his pocket. He surprised even himself, normally his first reaction was to hurry away, pretending deafness or ignorance.

To Daniel's disappointment, all he found in his pocket was a few copper coins. Not even enough for a cup of tea. "I'm sorry," he said, handing the coins over. "It's all I have." He took a step away, then changed his mind, and pulled his wallet out of his jacket pocket. From the wallet he took a ten pound note and handed it over to the young man. "No, here. Take it. Get yourself a decent meal."

The youth, whom Daniel suspected was probably no older than seventeen, stared first at the note, and then at Daniel's face. The china-blue gaze made Daniel feel somewhat uncomfortable. "You are closer to us," the youth said.

"What do you mean?" Daniel demanded.

But the youth did not reply. Instead he began to hum a tune, the words of which echoed like a bell in Daniel's head.

Dance, dance, wherever you may be
I am the Lord of the Dance said he,
And I'll lead you all, wherever you may be...

"Hey, daydreamer!" The voice jolted Daniel from his thoughts and he looked up to see Jane smiling at him, a cup of coffee in each hand. She moved aside a disorganised pile of papers and put one cup on his desk, then perched on the edge of it to drink from her own.

"You know," she said, glancing at his doodles, "you're acting just like my son. But then, he's going through one of those adolescent love crises. What's your excuse?"

Daniel looked at her. "A late adolescent love crisis?" he suggested with a smile. His colleague always had the knack of cheering him up when he was in a self-pitying sort of mood. He'd found he needed cheering up more often since the break-up of his marriage, and Jane's presence was a comfort.

Jane picked up the paper on which Daniel had been doodling. "You're wasted in accountancy," she said. "You ought to be an artist."

He gave a modest shrug and took the paper from her. "It's just a hobby," he said, staring at the doodle he had made. It surprised even him, he hadn't realised he had been sitting there drawing the dancing girl. She was perfectly formed in ball-point pen, looking as though she was about to dance right off the page. He fastened the picture to the side of his computer screen, where it was visible through the corner of his eye as he worked.

Daniel could not stop thinking about the dancing girl all morning. When it was time for lunch, instead of sitting in the canteen as he usually did, he bought a pack of sandwiches and took them to the park railing from where he'd seen her the evening before. He sat and ate his sandwiches, watching in case he saw the girl again, and when his sandwiches were gone he sat and smoked until it was time to return to the office. There was no sign of the girl.

Over the next few days, Daniel began to adjust his routine around his search for the dancing girl. He would leave early for work and spend half an hour or so strolling around the park, and at lunchtime he would return there for an hour more. After work he would stay in the city until the evening rush had dwindled, and he would anxiously scour the streets looking for the girl with the long dark hair and light feet, or listening for the cassette player pumping out that brash music.

Once he saw her. Just a glimpse among the crowds of late-night shoppers and early drinkers. At first he wasn't certain it was her; all he saw was the back of her head as she walked confidently down the street. But she walked as though she was dancing, and with a pounding heart he pushed through the crowds, anxious to catch up with her.

When she turned her head to look at him, and he saw her deep brown eyes and face as pale and perfect as a china doll's, Daniel felt as though time had stopped. Although there was a good two or three hundred yards between them, it seemed to Daniel as though she was standing right next to him. He could almost smell her perfume, almost feel the warmth of her breath, almost hear her whispering his name. Then the moment was lost, Daniel blinked and she had vanished into the night.

Fascination gradually turned itself into obsession. Every part of Daniel's life faded into insignificance beside his desperate need to find the dancing girl. The half-hour before work had stretched to two hours, and afterwards he would stay in the city until late, searching streets and bars, clubs and cafés until his feet were sore and he could no longer stay awake.

He drew a picture of her the way he had seen her the second time, and carried it with him. He would pretend the girl was his young runaway sister, and he showed the picture to people he met, and asked them if they had seen her. But the response was always a sad shake of the head, and sometimes a comment about her beauty, and a wish of good luck.

"God, Daniel, you look like death. When did you last have a decent night's sleep?" Jane sipped her morning coffee from her usual place on the edge of Daniel's desk. On her face was an expression of concern. Daniel said nothing, he was too tired to make conversation. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept more than a couple of hours in a night. He lit a cigarette and watched the smoke drifting slowly towards the window.

"You shouldn't smoke so much either," Jane said, with a firm but kind tone. "I can't bear to see you destroying yourself like this." She put her hand on his, and it felt warm and comforting. "Let me help you."

"You'd help me look for her?" Daniel said, suddenly animated.

Jane sighed. "That's not exactly what I had in mind. You can't build all your hopes on a dream."

"But she's real, Jane. I saw her."

"Perhaps you should take a few days off work. Get some rest, take a holiday or something."

Daniel smiled, and nodded. "That's not such a bad idea."

So he took a few days off work, and used the time to search the city for the dancing girl. And when those days were gone, he took some more. He could no longer bear to leave the city at night, for fear he might miss her, so when he could no longer fight against sleep he would curl up in a doorway for an hour or two before waking and searching once more.

Days merged into one another, and Daniel lost all track of time. He knew he looked a mess now, with an unkempt beard and grimy clothes, but he didn't care. Once, as he sat in his doorway looking at the passers-by, hoping to see the dancing girl, someone tossed him a few copper coins, and he stared at them as they lay there on the pavement. Then, maybe the same day or maybe another, he saw Jane on her way to the office, and she cast him a brief glance before hurrying on her way. It was a look of pity for a homeless beggar, tempered with mild disgust, but there was no recognition in her eyes.

Another time, he met the youth from the shop doorway on the approach to the train station. The youth jumped up from his place on the pavement, knocking aside a paper cup, sending scattering the few coins he had collected that day. He grabbed Daniel by the arm, and the look in his eyes was almost crazed.

"Closer now," the youth said. "You are closer than you have ever been. Lord of the Dance..."

Daniel shook his head and walked away. The boy was obviously quite mad. But the song lodged itself in his mind once more.

I danced on a Friday when the sky turned black
It's hard to dance with the Devil on your back...

In time Daniel stopped wandering the streets looking for the girl, and instead he merely sat in his own quiet doorway where he could see across the street to the park, the spot where he first saw her. He ate little, and no longer had the energy for much walking about, and besides, he'd caught a cold and a nagging cough that left him breathless if he rushed about like he used to. His bank account had long since been foreclosed, and the only money he had now was the change that sympathetic passers-by would throw to him. Mostly, he spent it on cigarettes or coffee. But it didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was the dancing girl.

It was the music that awoke him. The same music the girl was dancing to that first time. He sat up and there she was, sitting on the park railing with the cassette player on her knee. She was looking straight at him, and smiling, her head bobbing ever so slightly, in time with the music.

Daniel stood and hurried across the road. He did not take his eyes off the girl, he did not even dare blink in case she vanished again, but this time she did not vanish. He had dreamed of this meeting many times, rehearsing it over and over in his head, but now he was standing face to face with her, he could think of nothing to say. Instead, he just stood there gaping at her like a hooked fish.

The girl laughed. "Hello Daniel," she said. Her voice was soft and musical, almost hypnotic. She switched off the cassette player and the music stopped, and she held out her hand. Daniel reached out and took it in his, holding her tight, hardly believing he had found her at last. He wondered vaguely how she knew his name, but it seemed unimportant.

"I've been looking for you," he said, a little awkwardly.

"I know. Come with me now, Daniel. It's time to go."

He nodded, and the girl jumped nimbly to the floor. She looked into his face with a smile, and her eyes held Daniel transfixed as he walked beside her. Their shoes made no sound on the pavement, but Daniel did not notice. He noticed nothing but the girl, and the way she moved as though the sounds of the city were music for dancing to.

They walked silently across the street, past Daniel's doorway where the still form of a down-and-out lay under a blanket, and together they disappeared into the city night.

(END)