Page 35 of The Pianist's Wife
Amira couldn’t help but laugh at the puppy-dog look on his face, and she hurried forward and placed her hands to his cheeks, staring into his eyes. Her sweet, kind, darling Maxi. ‘You are the love of my life, Maxi. Of course there’s still a chance for us.’
She stood on tiptoe again and pressed a quick, warm kiss to his lips. He tasted of cigarettes and chewing gum, and his clothes smelled as if they could very much do with a wash, but he was her Maxi and she loved him fiercely, with all her heart.
‘Make it the Hotel Kaiserhof,’ he said, still holding her hand as she made to step away. ‘I’ll be waiting there for you tomorrow.’
Chapter Fourteen
When Amira got home, she found Fred in the kitchen, which surprised her. She went in and sat down at the table, even more surprised when he stopped what he was doing to pour her a drink. She would have to tell Fred what she’d planned, but for now she just needed to sit for a moment and digest what she’d agreed to, and try to quell her guilt.
‘Thank you,’ she said, gratefully taking a sip of the brandy, even though she knew it was going to feel like liquid fire in her throat.
‘How was the reunion?’ he asked, glancing back at her as he stirred a pot on the stove. ‘It must have been quite something setting eyes on him again.’
‘I can’t believe he’s alive,’ she admitted. ‘Just seeing him, I mean, it’s almost impossible to believe.’
‘He’s here for long?’
‘Three days.’Three short days before he’s sent back to war again.It seemed so cruel that he was only there for such a short time.
Fred was silent, and she knew that he was waiting for her to say whether she planned on seeing him again, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she stared down at her hands. She wouldn’t lie to him if he asked, but she wasn’t ready to volunteer the information.
‘I envy you, Amira,’ he said. ‘If I had the chance to see Christoph again...’ He sighed. ‘Anyway, I’d like to say sorry.’
‘Sorry?’ She stood to see what he was cooking. ‘For what?’
‘For living our cover story and not even trying to get to know you properly.’
She placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘Fred, you’ve been perfectly fine.’
He gave her a look that made her laugh, and then he was laughing and she almost sloshed her brandy all over him.
‘But if I’m brutally honest, I would very much like to get to know you better. If we’re going to live here together and keep up this ruse, the very least we can do is become friends.’ Fred reached for his own drink, holding his glass up to clink against hers.
They both took a sip and then she sat down at the table again as he ladled out two bowls of stew and placed one in front of her.
‘Before I tell you about me, why don’t you tell me about your family,’ she said, as they looked awkwardly at one another. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him what Maxi had proposed, but she held back, not yet sure how to broach the subject. She was far more comfortable listening to him first.
‘Well, my parents passed away some years ago. My mother never had great health, I was her only son, and my father was actually killed in the first British air raid, four years ago.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Amira said, dipping her spoon into the bowl.
‘It sounds heartless, but I didn’t experience great sadness when my father passed, not like when my mother died,’ Fred said, pausing to take a small sip of liquor and looking infinitely more relaxed now he was talking. ‘He came home from the Great War a different man, and he was intolerable about my not enlisting, despite what he’d been through.’
‘He didn’t approve of you being a pianist?’
Fred chuckled. ‘Approve? No, my father most definitely didn’t approve. He wanted me to be an electrician, like him, and when Ishared my dreams with him, he shook his head and told me what a disappointment I was. He had a successful business, and he wanted me to follow in his footsteps.’
‘He said that?’ Amira couldn’t believe it. ‘Did he not hear you play?’
‘Oh, he heard me, but he thought music was for women. He wanted me to find a pretty wife to bear my children, and most importantly, serve our great country.’
‘And you were given a dispensation from serving, for being a musician?’
‘I was. I would have fought if I had to, but I’m a pianist, not a soldier, and despite a short time doing an apprenticeship, before finding the courage to stand up to my father, I’ve stayed true to my calling.’
‘Even when the Nazi Party asked you to remain in Berlin? He still wasn’t impressed?’
‘No, sadly,’ Fred said. ‘I’ve devoted myself to my music, and to playing for everyone and anyone, with the exception of my father.’
