Page 3 of The Pianist's Wife
Another boy looked away, and Amira at least felt heartened that they weren’t all so cruel. Before all this she’d always liked the boys in her class; only a few weeks earlier she and Gisele had giggled about which of the boys they’d like to marry one day.
‘She’s still afilthyJew,’ the first boy said, his voice as high as Amira’s, but the words were said with the confidence of a man.
Amira grabbed hold of Gisele’s hand to quickly pull her along, scared of what was about to happen, but Gisele didn’t move. Amira saw that her face had turned a deep shade of red, her angerpalpable. And just like that very first day in the playground, Amira knew something was about to happen. Only, this time, she wished it wouldn’t.
‘Come on,’ Amira insisted, trying to tug her. ‘Just keep walking, don’t even look at them. It doesn’t matter.’
But they didn’t move away fast enough. One of the boys threw an apple at Amira, which she saw just in time to duck away from it, but she didn’t move quickly enough to avoid the plum that followed and hit her square on the forehead. It didn’t hurt so much as embarrass her, especially when she reached to touch the spot and found some of the fruit’s flesh smeared against her skin.
What she couldn’t understand was why they were being so cruel. These were children she’d known for years, boys who’d never have been brave enough to behave in such a way before. When they’d been younger she’d even gone to their birthday parties and raced with them in the playground at lunchtime. But with the hatred of the new political party seeming to surge through every German household in the city, they suddenly felt they could behave differently.
‘Her mama’s a dirty Jew,’ called the same boy, who managed to convince the others to start chanting with him.
Amira swallowed, the words leaving her with a writhing stomach that made her want to be sick. Even if she’d wanted to, she couldn’t speak.
‘What did you say?’ Gisele asked, letting go of Amira’s hand.
‘Gisele, please—’ Amira pleaded, whispering to her friend, but it was too late. Gisele was marching towards them.
In that moment, as she realised what was about to happen, Amira swelled with pride at the same time as wishing she could stop it. This wasn’t the same as when her friend had shared her lunch, or held her hand and sat with her when some of the other girls were being mean.
This was going to change everything.
Gisele covered the ground between them quickly and swiftly swiped an ice-cream cone from one of the boys’ hands, dumping it on his head so that it dripped through his hair, before he even realised what was going on. Unfortunately, neither did the next boy, who was left reeling after Gisele pulled back her arm and threw a punch into his nose that left him bleeding all down his shirt and howling in pain.
As if satisfied with the way the remaining boys ran away, Gisele turned back to Amira and smiled triumphantly, holding out her arm for Amira to loop her hand through, as if nothing had happened in the first place.
‘I wouldn’t worry about them anymore,’ Gisele said, as if she’d simply given them a telling-off.
‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ Amira whispered, clinging to her friend as she looked over her shoulder to make sure the boys weren’t following them. Gisele might be brave, but Amira was frightened, wondering what they’d do next time now that Gisele had aggravated them. What they’d do toherif they found her alone. She had to be careful, that was what her papa had said. She was supposed to keep her head down and stay out of trouble, no matter what, because he said that the Jewish people were being blamed for everything that was wrong with German society. It was different for Gisele, and as much as Amira wanted to believe her, she knew that it wasn’t Gisele who’d get into trouble for what had happened.
‘I just did what any decent friend would do,’ Gisele said, but Amira heard the tremor in her voice, as if she was just beginning to realise the severity of what she’d done.
‘What if you’re not allowed to see me again?’ Amira whispered. ‘When your parents find out what you’ve done for me...’
‘They won’t find out,’ Gisele said. ‘Those cowards aren’t going to tell them that a girl gave one of them a bloody nose. Imagine one of their fathers hearing that!’
‘But what if...’ Amira’s voice trailed away. She didn’t want to think about any otherwhat ifs. Gisele thought things would be better now, but they wouldn’t be. Nothing was ever going to be the same again. Amira was never going to be asked to dances or have the chance to dress up in pretty clothes and have fun with friends, because no one was going to want her near them. These boys had made it clear that they couldn’t even stand looking at her, let alone being friends with her ever again.
They walked the rest of the way in silence, stopping only to wash Gisele’s hand in a little stream near their houses so that her parents wouldn’t notice. Amira carefully wiped away the smear of blood and used her uniform to dry it, and Gisele did the same to get rid of the fruit stain on Amira’s forehead, their walk taking them much longer than it should have, almost as if neither of them wanted to go home. But when they rounded the corner to the street they both lived on, it seemed that Gisele had been wrong about the boys being too embarrassed to tell anyone.
Gisele’s mother was standing by the mailbox with another woman, waiting for them, and the boy Gisele had punched was standing beside them, a handkerchief held up to cover the blood. If it were any other day, Amira would have rolled her eyes and they would have likely giggled about what a cry-baby he was, but not today. There was something very different about today than any other day she’d lived through before.
‘Oh no,’ Gisele whispered, and for the very first time, Amira felt her friend’s fear.
‘What are we going to do?’ Amira asked, as they stopped on the other side of the road, seeing the furious expression on Gisele’s mother’s face when she beckoned for her daughter. Her hair wasswept into a dramatic up-do, her dress as fashionable as her home, which was the largest on the block. She was certainly not a woman who was going to let her daughter play with a troublesome Jewish girl.
‘Go home, Amira,’ Gisele whispered, letting go of her. ‘It’ll be fine. I promise. I’ll tell her what happened and explain everything, that it was all just a misunderstanding. That it was my fault, not yours.’ She smiled, as if it were nothing. ‘As soon as she hears me practise the flute, she’ll calm down. She always does when she sees me doing something ladylike.’ Gisele rolled her eyes, before adding, ‘Or hopefully my brother did something terrible at school today which will distract her attention.’
Amira nodded and stood for a moment longer as Gisele crossed the street, watching her go. But even when she turned to walk away, she couldn’t help but hear the two women talking.
‘You can’t let her be friends with a girl like that, not anymore. You know what her mother is, don’t you?’
Amira wrapped her arms around herself, wishing she hadn’t heard the next part; wishing that they’d whispered and at least tried to pretend they didn’t want her to hear. But of course niceties had disappeared with the announcement of the Nuremberg Laws.
‘She might only be a half Jew, but I don’t think it matters. They’re all the same, and we’ll be going to the school and telling them that we expect her to be expelled immediately, especially after what she made your daughter do today. You just can’t trust them, and violence can never be tolerated.’
‘I couldn’t agree more. If I have it my way, Gisele won’t even be setting eyes on her again, let alone spending time with her.’
