Page 10 of Atlas: The Story of Pa Salt

‘They want to hear you play,’ Evelyn said. ‘And you will do so this Sunday.’

I gave a pout, which was more out of fear than annoyance. It was one thing playing for Evelyn, who was a housekeeper, but another playing for the Landowski family, especially with Marcel being such a talented pianist.

‘Don’t worry, you can use this to practise,’ Evelyn said as she handed me the violin. ‘Come over during the day when everyone is busy. Not that you need to rehearse, my dear, but perhaps it might make you feel better if you do. Do you know many pieces off by heart?’

I nodded.

‘Then you must choose at least two or three,’ she advised, although I couldn’t work out why. So, over the next few days, I came into Evelyn’s little house whilst she was working next door, made sure all the windows were closed in case of prying ears, and played all my favourite pieces through. Evelyn had been right: I was rusty, and my fingers had lost some of their nimbleness, possibly due to what they had endured on my journey here. After much careful thought, I selected three pieces. The first, because it sounded very impressive, but was actually fairly simple to play. The next because it was a hard technical piece, just in case any member of the family had enough knowledge of violin playing to judge my skill. And the last because it was probably my favourite piece of violin music ever, and I loved playing it.

The ‘performance’ was to happen before lunch on Sunday. Even the servants had been invited to come and listen. I’m sure the Landowskis were just being kind by trying to ensure I felt special, but it made me feel as though I was being tested in some way, which I didn’t like at all. Whatever their reasons, and I was sure itwasout of kindness, I knew that I had no choice but to perform for them. It was really quite frighteningas I’d only ever played in front of my old household before, and apart from Papa, no one else’s opinion had really mattered. But this was a famous sculptor and his talented family, of whom some had serious musical knowledge.

I didn’t sleep well the night before, tossing and turning and only wishing that I could run downstairs and into Evelyn’s little house, so that I could practise and practise until the violin was an extension of my hands, which was how Papa had said it should be.

I spent Sunday morning playing until my fingers had nearly dropped off, then Evelyn came to find me and told me to go up and change. In the kitchen, she’d given me what she called a ‘lick and a spit’, which meant wetting my hair and brushing it back, as well as running her flannel over my face.

‘There now, all done. You’re ready.’ She smiled at me, then pulled me to her. ‘Just remember how proud I am of you.’ Then she let me go and I saw tears in her eyes.

I was welcomed into the drawing room, where the family were gathered around a fireplace with a very big fire burning inside it. They all had glasses of wine, and I was ushered in to stand in front of them.

‘Now then, boy, no need to be nervous, eh? Just play whenever you’re ready,’ said Monsieur Landowski.

I put the violin under my chin and moved it around until it was comfortable. Then I closed my eyes and asked all those who Papa had told me were protecting me – including him – to gather around me. Then I lifted my bow and began to play.

When I’d finished the last piece, there came what I felt was a dreadful silence. All my confidence had disappeared into my toes. What did Papa know? The housekeeper and her engineer son? I felt a red flush of embarrassment starting to creep up my cheeks and I wanted to run away and cry. Myhearing must have disappeared for a bit in my misery, for eventually I came to, and heard the clapping. Even Marcel was looking animated and impressed.

‘Bravo, young man! Bravo,’ said Monsieur Landowski. ‘I only wish that you could tell us where you learnt to play like that. Or will you tell us?’ he added, with an almost desperate look on his face.

‘Seriously, you are very, very good, especially for your age,’ said Marcel, managing to give me a compliment and patronise me at the same time.

‘Well done,’ said Madame Landowski, patting me on the shoulder, and giving me one of her small warm smiles. ‘Now,’ she added as a bell tinkled from the hall, ‘we must go in for lunch.’

There was much talk over the hors d’oeuvres of my incredible prowess, then the family amused themselves over the main course by asking me questions that I had to answer with a nod or shake of the head. Even though there was part of me that felt uncomfortable because they were treating my unknown life as a mere game, I knew none of them meant any harm. If I didn’t wish to answer one of their questions, I merely had to do neither.

‘We must find you some lessons, young man,’ said Landowski. ‘I have a friend at the conservatoire. Rachmaninoff would know a good teacher.’

‘Papa, the conservatoire does not take on students until they are much older,’ interjected Marcel.

‘Ah, but this is not any pupil, and our young friend has exceptional talent. Age of any kind is no barrier to talent. I will see what I can do,’ said Monsieur Landowski with a wink. I saw Marcel pout.

Just before everyone stood up after dessert, I made a decision. I wanted desperately to give Monsieur Landowski inparticular a gift for all he had done for me. So I took some paper and wrote a few words. As everyone was leaving the table, I put a hand out to stop Monsieur Landowski passing. Then, my hands shaking slightly, I handed him the paper. I watched him as he read the four words.

‘Well, well, well,’ he chuckled, ‘after your performance earlier, it is as if it was meant to be. Do I presume that this is a nickname because of your talent?’

I nodded.

‘Very well, then I will inform the family. Thank you for trusting us with this. I understand how difficult it is for you.’

I walked out into the hall, then ran upstairs to my attic room. I stood in front of the mirror and faced myself. Then I opened my mouth to speak the words.

‘My name is Bo.’

A violin teacher had been found for me apparently, and I was to go to Paris after Christmas to play for him. I couldn’t decide whether I was more excited about playing for a proper violinist, or because I would be taken into the city by Evelyn.

‘Paris,’ I mouthed as I lay under my covers. Evelyn had ordered the maids to provide me with a thicker woollen blanket, and snuggling in bed, warm under the covers, had now become one of the highlights of my day. I was also filled with this funny sensation in my tummy, which I remembered feeling before when I was much younger and my heart wasn’t filled up with fear. It was as if a little bubble was rising up from my tummy into my chest, making my lips curl into a smile. The word for the feeling was, I thought,excitement. It was something I almost dared not feel because that then led to feeling happy, and I didn’t want to get too happy becauseif I did, something awful might happen, like the Landowskis deciding they didn’t want me under their roof anymore, and then it would be even harder to face the misery of being alone, penniless and starving again. The violin had saved me, made me even more ‘intriguing’, as Monsieur Landowski had said the day after to Laurent in the atelier (I’d had to look up the word ‘intriguing’ because it was missing from my vocabulary).

So if I wanted to stay, I had to carry on being as intriguing as I possibly could, as well as being useful, which, actually, was all very exhausting. Plans for Christmas were well underway too, with lots of secret whisperings about presents. This had worried me a lot, because, of course, I had no money to buy anything for anybody, and I was terrified that they, being the kind family that they were, would give me gifts. I had consulted with Evelyn about this on one of my nightly visits.

She’d read,How do I get money for presents?then looked at me and I could see she was thinking about it.