looking up at him; he didn’t even look anxious. Erich took control of himself , but only just in time; as he relaxed, his feet began to grip again, and his hands became as tactile as limpets. By working methodically against the grain he hitched himself up and away from the edge.
The passage from the roof onto the top of the wall was tricky, and when he reached it, it was quite narrow so he straddled it and hitched himself along until he reached the lean-to shed. Once there it was a simple matter to slide down the corrugated iron roof to the edge. It seemed a long way down. Perhaps Veit would be cross, but the old man’s silent observation suggested approval. He would take a risk.
‘Grandpa,’ he called. ‘Can you help me?’ Veit, sighing audibly at the interruption, dug in his spade, came over, and reached up to lift Erich to the ground.
‘Listen to me, young man,’ he said. ‘You must never climb up something you can’t get down. Do you hear?’
‘Yes Grandpa, thank you Grandpa,’ Erich said, backing away.
Veit watched him as he turned to run. ‘I’ll make a man out of him yet,’ he said.
CHAPTER 7
A Prodigy Steps Out
Louise was sick with nerves. Izaac, now aged seven, had grown considerably in the year and a half since Madame Stronski had ousted Herr Müller as his teacher. Today he would perform for the first time to a group of family and friends. The concert double bill featured The Tuning Fork Quartet and the as yet unheard boy violinist Izaac Abrahams. Preparations were well under way.
Uncle Rudi passed in front of Louise’s picture, walking backwards, dragging a heavy armchair over the carpet towards the wall where he angled it towards the performing end of the music room. Beads of sweat glistened all over his head. He rubbed himself down with a large handkerchief, then he joined Nathan, who was assembling a line of chairs robbed from the dining room. They both went off to see what chairs they could find in the bedrooms. Izaac struggled in with a stool from the kitchen and put it at the back, where it would do for any latecomer.
It was the calm before the storm. Members of the family had gone off to bedrooms to change; there were distant shouts of laughter. Izaac, scrubbed to within an inch of his life, appeared. He had been dressed up in a frilly white shirt with a large, floppy blue bow tie, a grey jacket and shorts.
‘Will I be all right?’ he asked, glancing in the direction of Louise’s portrait. ‘I think this jacket will be too tight.’
Louise reassured him.
‘What if I forget my notes?’ he went on.
‘You won’t forget!’ He began to relax. A mischievous smile crossed his face.
‘I think I’ll do my duck act!’
‘No, you won’t do your duck act! Don’t tease me.’
The applause was polite as the four members of The Tuning Fork Quartet rose to their feet, pleased, perspiring, and bowing. The chairs were all filled now. The ladies were comfortably ensconced in armchairs around the edges of the room, while the men eased themselves on the upright ones in the middle. While the quartet put their instruments away and moved their chairs back to form a semi-circle, Izaac, looking small and scared, took his violin from its case. Madame Stronski leant forward and whispered some words of encouragement . All eyes were on the boy. They had heard about him, but that not that he was a pupil of the great Madame Stronski, and they were impressed. They all leant forward now, putting their will behind him as he tightened his bow. No one noticed when the door behind them opened to let a tall distinguished looking man slip silently into the room. He looked about him; spotted the high kitchen stool that Izaac had brought in, and tiptoed over to it.
Louise noticed him straight away. Who could this be? His suit was well cut with a discreet stripe, his hair was dark with wings of grey over the ears, and a fine moustache was just flecked with grey. The only other person who could see this
The passage from the roof onto the top of the wall was tricky, and when he reached it, it was quite narrow so he straddled it and hitched himself along until he reached the lean-to shed. Once there it was a simple matter to slide down the corrugated iron roof to the edge. It seemed a long way down. Perhaps Veit would be cross, but the old man’s silent observation suggested approval. He would take a risk.
‘Grandpa,’ he called. ‘Can you help me?’ Veit, sighing audibly at the interruption, dug in his spade, came over, and reached up to lift Erich to the ground.
‘Listen to me, young man,’ he said. ‘You must never climb up something you can’t get down. Do you hear?’
‘Yes Grandpa, thank you Grandpa,’ Erich said, backing away.
Veit watched him as he turned to run. ‘I’ll make a man out of him yet,’ he said.
CHAPTER 7
A Prodigy Steps Out
Louise was sick with nerves. Izaac, now aged seven, had grown considerably in the year and a half since Madame Stronski had ousted Herr Müller as his teacher. Today he would perform for the first time to a group of family and friends. The concert double bill featured The Tuning Fork Quartet and the as yet unheard boy violinist Izaac Abrahams. Preparations were well under way.
Uncle Rudi passed in front of Louise’s picture, walking backwards, dragging a heavy armchair over the carpet towards the wall where he angled it towards the performing end of the music room. Beads of sweat glistened all over his head. He rubbed himself down with a large handkerchief, then he joined Nathan, who was assembling a line of chairs robbed from the dining room. They both went off to see what chairs they could find in the bedrooms. Izaac struggled in with a stool from the kitchen and put it at the back, where it would do for any latecomer.
It was the calm before the storm. Members of the family had gone off to bedrooms to change; there were distant shouts of laughter. Izaac, scrubbed to within an inch of his life, appeared. He had been dressed up in a frilly white shirt with a large, floppy blue bow tie, a grey jacket and shorts.
‘Will I be all right?’ he asked, glancing in the direction of Louise’s portrait. ‘I think this jacket will be too tight.’
Louise reassured him.
‘What if I forget my notes?’ he went on.
‘You won’t forget!’ He began to relax. A mischievous smile crossed his face.
‘I think I’ll do my duck act!’
‘No, you won’t do your duck act! Don’t tease me.’
The applause was polite as the four members of The Tuning Fork Quartet rose to their feet, pleased, perspiring, and bowing. The chairs were all filled now. The ladies were comfortably ensconced in armchairs around the edges of the room, while the men eased themselves on the upright ones in the middle. While the quartet put their instruments away and moved their chairs back to form a semi-circle, Izaac, looking small and scared, took his violin from its case. Madame Stronski leant forward and whispered some words of encouragement . All eyes were on the boy. They had heard about him, but that not that he was a pupil of the great Madame Stronski, and they were impressed. They all leant forward now, putting their will behind him as he tightened his bow. No one noticed when the door behind them opened to let a tall distinguished looking man slip silently into the room. He looked about him; spotted the high kitchen stool that Izaac had brought in, and tiptoed over to it.
Louise noticed him straight away. Who could this be? His suit was well cut with a discreet stripe, his hair was dark with wings of grey over the ears, and a fine moustache was just flecked with grey. The only other person who could see this
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