Page 66 of The Pianist's Wife
‘Nothing,’ she said, forcing a smile. ‘I’ll tell you when you get back.’
She helped him unbandage his hand, and she held her smile until he disappeared out of the door. Then she collapsed into a ball and fought a wave of tears, wishing she’d been brave enough to tell him before he left.
Amira had quickly begun to think of the men, women and children who lived in the special barracks with them as an extended family of sorts, and although she spent much of her time terrified at what might happen next, she was trying her best to keep herself occupied. It was a diverse group of people, and even those who didn’t share a language did their best to communicate with one another. She’d learned from the former mayor of Prague that theywere considered guests of the Nazis, which at least gave them all something to laugh about – they were hardly being put up at the Ritz, after all. And they certainly weren’t willing guests.
But mostly Amira busied herself with the children or talking to Janot, who’d become a friend, especially when Fred was summoned to play the piano, as he was almost daily now, performing for the commanders and their families, as well as teaching their children how to play.
Amira had set up a little school, where they told stories and taught lessons as best they could, but there was only so much they could do. And she found herself spending most of her time worrying about Fred and how they could convince people that their marriage was real. Tonight when he arrived back, he was in better spirits, as he always was after playing. It sometimes only lasted a few minutes, other times an hour or more, but even playing for the SS seemed to brighten his outlook – before he reverted back to his withdrawn self. And to make matters worse, she still hadn’t told him about the baby after missing her opportunity that first night.
‘Fred, come over here,’ she called out when she saw him.
He came over and sat cross-legged on the floor beside her and the three children who’d stayed with her to listen to a story after dinner.
‘We’ve decided that we want to learn the piano,’ she said.
He looked at her as if she were mad. ‘I don’t think that even special guests can request a piano to practise on,’ he said.
‘Ahh, but that’s where you’re wrong,’ she said with a grin. ‘We are going topretendwe each have a piano of our own. That will make it easier to play.’
Fred laughed, and when he laughed, the children laughed. It was the first time she’d seen his face light up like that since she’d arrived. ‘We are going to play in the air?’
‘No, silly. We are going to play on the floor, like this.’ She spread her fingers out and made a show of pressing her fingers up and down across the keys.
‘Well, if we’re going to play, then we need tohearthe music, too,’ he said, and within seconds he was playing for the children, humming the tune to a song she recognised from hearing him practise.
‘Thank you,’ he whispered, as the children giggled and tried to mimic his humming.
Amira smiled, not sure if he was thanking her for a moment of humour or for being there at all. Regardless, she was happy to be the one to make him smile, when most of the time any inch of happiness had been stripped from his features as if it hadn’t existed in the first place.
Chapter Thirty-One
Berlin, Christmas 1944
Gisele
Gisele had spent much of her life defying her mother, which meant that preparing for Christmas, however small this year, at least gave her a distraction from thinking about Amira. She had continued the tradition of celebrating Christmas, despite it not being favoured by the party – and in turn her mother put up little decorations around the house. There was no sweet smell of baking this year because she simply hadn’t found the energy, even though Hans had come home with some sugar and other treats that he was able to procure due to his rank.
‘Gisele, I didn’t know you had a dog,’ her mother said, shooing Otto away. ‘Don’t you have your hands full enough with all these children?’
‘Otto is Mira’s dog,’ Frieda said, picking Otto up and carrying him around in her arms on his back, as if he were a baby.
‘Who’sMira?’
Gisele froze. ‘Take the dog out of here, sweetheart. I don’t need him under my feet while I’m cooking.’
‘Who’s Mira?’ her mother asked again, looking between them.
‘Mira is Mama’s friend,’ Frieda said, as she skipped out of the room. ‘But she’s gone away on holiday!’
Gisele quickly went back to preparing the pheasant to put in the oven, not daring to look back at her mother and see the sharp gaze that she knew would be waiting for her.
‘I’ve never heard of this friend,Mira,’ her mother said.
‘Just as you’ve never heard of my friend Mathilde, or Heidi who I meet at the park each week,’ Gisele said brightly. ‘They’re all very nice women, mothers actually, all of them. I’m very fortunate with all the lovely friends I’ve made since becoming a mother myself.’
‘It only caught my ear because it sounded so likeAmira, that revolting little girl you used to play with at school,’ she said. ‘Thank goodness we were able to put an end to that.’
Gisele had to bite her tongue to stop from snapping back, refusing to take the bait. All these years she’d managed to keep her friendship with Amira secret, and she intended on keeping it that way. There was no way her mother could know that she’d stayed in contact with Amira; they weren’t young girls sneaking out to see each other on their bicycles anymore.
