like Jean-Paul. Everyone thought he sounded like an angel. He even looked like one because his hair was fair and curly. Monsieur Lemoine used to say that Jean-Paul’s angel voice was proof that God has a sense of humour.
I really missed Jean-Paul. I even missed Vincent Bel, who used to follow the two of us around like a puppy. If there’d been another boy living on the rue des Lions we could have had some fun together, even if there was nothing to swap any more, no comics, no sweets.
But there’s always a silver lining. My Granny Berlioz used to say that before she died. I suppose her silver lining was that she escaped the war and the bad stuff by dying first.
6 SEPTEMBER 1942
It’s been nearly eight weeks now and there’s still no word from my family. I know Mama and Papa would send a letter or a card to
somebody
if they could let me know where they are.
I don’t know if the people at the fairground can get letters like normal people do. If I were a postman I bet it would be a lot more fun to deliver a letter to a circus van than to a boring lot of letterboxes. And circus dogs don’t bite. They just snore.
I’m thinking about asking the Prof to go to Signor Corrado to ask if there’s been a letter for me. But you couldn’t really imagine him ever going near a fairground. And he’s already done me one favour. He went to see the shop in rue de la Harpe. He said it was open.
“It’s actually still a jewellery business,” he said. “Though, more accurately, a pawnbroker’s shop. It’s called ‘The Viscount’ now, I’m afraid.”
Stupid name!
“Are the grandfather clocks and the carriage clocks still in the window?” I asked.
He looked a bit confused and then he coughed. “I didn’t see any clocks, Jonas. Just some small items.”
“Never mind,” I said. “They were probably moved to the storeroom.”
I didn’t want him to feel bad, but I was pretty sure the Germans had looted them, just like Papa said they would if he wasn’t there to protect them.
I can’t sleep very well. It’s not just because of the planes going over at night. It’s not even the stuffy air in this room. And it’s not because of the German patrols tramping past either, though there are definitely more of them on this street than you’d ever have around rue des Lions.
I just have a bad feeling in my stomach. It gets worse at night when I can’t see anything from the window. It’s getting dark earlier now and I’m fed up with the dark.
I really hate this room now. Yesterday the Prof gave me a brush and a dustpan to use and clean sheets to put on the bed. He said he had a whole linen cupboard full of clean sheets and we might as well use them up.
“Don’t you think it would be a good idea to do a clean up, Jonas? You do your room and I’ll do mine and we’ll feel better afterwards.”
But there was no dirt, not that I could see. Well, there was one spider’s web in the corner beside my bed but I left it alone. Why would I knock a spider’s house down? She probably thinks this room is a great place to live, and the war is great because there are no more vacuum cleaners going around trying to suck her up.
Here’s what I would say to Lady Spider if I could speak Spider: “This is definitely
not
a great place, because there’s nobody here but
me
.”
The Prof has been out of the house quite a lot for the past few days. He has to judge piano exams. The people at the Conservatoire asked him to come back and do that, even though he’s retired. He put a suit on so it must be important.
“It’ll be a little extra money for us,” he said. “I’ll look out for something tasty to bring home if they pay me on the spot.”
Imagine, every month he has food coupons to spare! That’s one thing we never had, that’s for sure. Maybe he hasn’t told them his wife is dead and so he can get hers too.
It’s funny the way you know a house is empty. When there is someone in the house, even if the other person
I really missed Jean-Paul. I even missed Vincent Bel, who used to follow the two of us around like a puppy. If there’d been another boy living on the rue des Lions we could have had some fun together, even if there was nothing to swap any more, no comics, no sweets.
But there’s always a silver lining. My Granny Berlioz used to say that before she died. I suppose her silver lining was that she escaped the war and the bad stuff by dying first.
6 SEPTEMBER 1942
It’s been nearly eight weeks now and there’s still no word from my family. I know Mama and Papa would send a letter or a card to
somebody
if they could let me know where they are.
I don’t know if the people at the fairground can get letters like normal people do. If I were a postman I bet it would be a lot more fun to deliver a letter to a circus van than to a boring lot of letterboxes. And circus dogs don’t bite. They just snore.
I’m thinking about asking the Prof to go to Signor Corrado to ask if there’s been a letter for me. But you couldn’t really imagine him ever going near a fairground. And he’s already done me one favour. He went to see the shop in rue de la Harpe. He said it was open.
“It’s actually still a jewellery business,” he said. “Though, more accurately, a pawnbroker’s shop. It’s called ‘The Viscount’ now, I’m afraid.”
Stupid name!
“Are the grandfather clocks and the carriage clocks still in the window?” I asked.
He looked a bit confused and then he coughed. “I didn’t see any clocks, Jonas. Just some small items.”
“Never mind,” I said. “They were probably moved to the storeroom.”
I didn’t want him to feel bad, but I was pretty sure the Germans had looted them, just like Papa said they would if he wasn’t there to protect them.
I can’t sleep very well. It’s not just because of the planes going over at night. It’s not even the stuffy air in this room. And it’s not because of the German patrols tramping past either, though there are definitely more of them on this street than you’d ever have around rue des Lions.
I just have a bad feeling in my stomach. It gets worse at night when I can’t see anything from the window. It’s getting dark earlier now and I’m fed up with the dark.
I really hate this room now. Yesterday the Prof gave me a brush and a dustpan to use and clean sheets to put on the bed. He said he had a whole linen cupboard full of clean sheets and we might as well use them up.
“Don’t you think it would be a good idea to do a clean up, Jonas? You do your room and I’ll do mine and we’ll feel better afterwards.”
But there was no dirt, not that I could see. Well, there was one spider’s web in the corner beside my bed but I left it alone. Why would I knock a spider’s house down? She probably thinks this room is a great place to live, and the war is great because there are no more vacuum cleaners going around trying to suck her up.
Here’s what I would say to Lady Spider if I could speak Spider: “This is definitely
not
a great place, because there’s nobody here but
me
.”
The Prof has been out of the house quite a lot for the past few days. He has to judge piano exams. The people at the Conservatoire asked him to come back and do that, even though he’s retired. He put a suit on so it must be important.
“It’ll be a little extra money for us,” he said. “I’ll look out for something tasty to bring home if they pay me on the spot.”
Imagine, every month he has food coupons to spare! That’s one thing we never had, that’s for sure. Maybe he hasn’t told them his wife is dead and so he can get hers too.
It’s funny the way you know a house is empty. When there is someone in the house, even if the other person
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