Page 38 of Atlas: The Story of Pa Salt
How?I wrote.
‘A good question. You must try to go to a “sacred space” in your mind. Perhaps picture a moment in your life when you felt at peace. This is your task over the next few days. I will see you on Friday. Thank you,petit monsieur.’
I finished clipping my violin into my case and left Monsieur Ivan’s room. Most people would not be able to tell if a silent boy were upset or elated, but Evelyn was aware that something wasn’t right.
‘Was it a difficult lesson, my dear?’
I looked down at my shoes.
‘You must remember that Monsieur Ivan is not used to tutoring such young pupils. The conservatoire is a place for undergraduates, who spend every hour of the day studying. As I waited for you in the reception area, I watched students twice your age filter in and out. I doubt that he treats you any differently to them.’ I looked up at Evelyn and smiled. ‘You must be the youngest pupil at the conservatoire by ten years,chéri. Your achievement is beyond outstanding.’
Over the following weeks, I worked furiously. My evenings were consumed with visits to Evelyn in her cottage, and I would practise my scales, show her my posture, and play ‘Venus’ from Holst’sThe Planets. Poor woman, she must have heard the piece one hundred times, but each night she would applaud and say she enjoyed it even more than the last time. During the days when I was not at the conservatoire, I would spend time in the atelier with Monsieur Landowski. MonsieurBrouilly was well on his way to Rio de Janeiro, and in his absence, I had become the de facto assistant – passing tools, brewing coffee and listening to Monsieur Landowski exclaim in delight or cry out in anguish as he worked on his commissions. As a reward, I was permitted to borrow books from his personal library. He had bestowed that honour upon me when he had caught me looking longingly at one of the bookshelves after dinner one evening. As a result, I devoured the likes of Flaubert, Proust and Maupassant. After I’d returned my third book within a week, Monsieur Landowski had widened his eyes.
‘Goodness me, boy, at the rate at which you’re going through my collection, I shall have to purchase the entire Bibliothèque de la Sorbonne.’ I gave him a wide smile. ‘You know, I must confess that I do not know many young men who have such a passion for literature. You are wise beyond your years. Are you positive that you are not a forty-year-old who has discovered the fountain of youth?’
At the conservatoire, my lessons with Monsieur Ivan continued apace, and with each session I became more accustomed to his manner.
‘Relax your shoulders,petit monsieur! Go to your sacred space!’ This was, admittedly, something I found myself struggling with. ‘Each time I give you a note, you become more and more tense. These are lessons, little Bo, and you are a student, here to learn!’
There was an irony in what Monsieur Ivan was asking of me whilst simultaneously raising his voice and thrashing his arms about. If I had the option to speak, I think I would have shouted in frustration. But instead, I gritted my teeth and played on. Although I was exasperated, I certainly did not begrudge my teacher. He was not aggressive, nor mean-spirited. He was simply passionate about his craft, and keen that Ishould improve. If anything, my irritation was born from a desire to achieve perfection. Each night I would break into a sweat as I practised all that Monsieur Ivan had taught me. With my hard work, I simply assumed that his critiques would slowly cease.
A few weeks in, Monsieur Ivan allowed me to play an entire solo without interrupting.
‘Good, Bo. Yourlegatois improving. This is progress.’
I bowed my head.
‘Now, because I do not believe you are able to do this on your own, we will make a list of things which make you happy. Then, as you become angry when I give you notes, you will be able to think of these things, and the tension will disappear. Please, sit.’ He gestured to the stool beside his own chair at the desk. ‘It seems, young man, that you have the weight of the world on your shoulders.’ I froze, wondering if Monsieur Ivan had somehow discovered my true name. He had already detected that we were from the same part of the globe. Who did he know? My stomach lurched as I thought of the consequences. ‘It is no good, Bo. A great violinist simply cannot perform with such heaviness anchoring him down. Your shoulders must be free to move with the instrument. So, together, we will try and lift this weight.’
I realised that his choice of analogy was merely a coincidence. My heart began to beat a little slower. I sat beside him, and took out my paper.
‘So, we will begin our happy list.’ My pen hovered, and Monsieur Ivan chuckled. ‘Okay, I will start,’ he said. ‘What makes me happy?... Ah, yes...’Good vodka, he wrote. ‘All right. It is your turn.’ My pen continued to hover. ‘Do you have friends,petit monsieur?’
Landowskis, I wrote.
‘Yes, yes, outside of the Landowski family.’
I do not attend school, so I do not see other children.
‘Hmm. You raise a good point. When I cast my mind back to what made me happy as a young boy, I think of my schoolfriends. We would wreak havoc on the streets of Moscow for hours upon end.’ Monsieur Ivan folded his arms over his sleeveless jumper and leant back in his chair. ‘I remember throwing snowballs and building igloos. But you do not currently have such an opportunity.’
Violin, books, I wrote.
‘Oh yes, these things are wonderful indeed. But they are isolating. When I ask you to go to a “sacred space”, neither can provide that. You needexperiences, young man. I am going to see if we can arrange for you to spend some time with others who are of a similar age. A former pupil of mine attends the Apprentis d’Auteuil orphanage several times a week to play for the children. I shall contact him and ask if you could attend their recreational activities at lunchtime, or perhaps in the evening, when you come to Paris.’ He noted the look of horror in my eyes. ‘Do not look so afraid,petit monsieur! What do you fear? That you will be committed to the orphanage yourself?’ I nodded vigorously, and Monsieur Ivan laughed. ‘No need to worry about that, young man. Monsieur Landowski and I speak often, and I happen to know just how much he values your presence in his household. Do we have an agreement?’ I held firm, and shook my head. ‘Bah. Take it from one who knows. Life is about people, and there is no worse punishment than loneliness. I am only acting in your best interests.’ I looked down at the floor, but Monsieur Ivan continued. ‘In addition, these young people are without parents themselves, and have come to know the hardships of life well before they should, much like yourself. I believe it would do you good to spend time with them.’ I did not respond. Monsieur Ivan let out a sigh. ‘All right. If you sayyes, I promise that I will refrain from critiquing you for a whole session, and you can play whatever you wish. This is a rare opportunity. You would not catch me making such an arrangement with my undergraduates, you know. May we make a deal?’ Sensing that it wasn’t truly an option to deny his request, I raised my hand and shook his. ‘Excellent. I shall telephone Monsieur Landowski and ensure we have his permission, then seek out my old pupil.Merci,petit monsieur. I shall see you on Tuesday.’
‘Goodness me, my littlechéri. If nothing else, these sojourns will only serve to increase your gratitude to Monsieur and Madame Landowski.’
Evelyn was not wrong in her summation of the Apprentis d’Auteuil orphanage. It was truly gothic in its appearance, with rotting windows and dilapidated brickwork. We were met at the large iron gates by a tall, spindly woman called Madame Gagnon, who let us in and led us across the concrete forecourt.
‘This is only a favour because of the contribution young Monsieur Baudin makes with his violin. Really, we do not have the time to supervise an extra child. Madame, are you aware of how full we are after the Great War? I hardly have an inch to spare.’
‘Madame Gagnon, I know that Monsieur Landowski and Monsieur Ivan are incredibly grateful to you for allowing Bo to spend some time with other children.’
‘Well, I do not know what good it will do the boy. He cannot speak, so I am unable to see what he will gain from cluttering up my playground.’
‘Madame Gagnon, Monsieur Landowski has indicated to me that he would like to contribute towards the upkeep of the orphanage.’
‘If that cleanses his soul, so be it, madame. We have many Parisians with guilty consciences whose donations just about allow us to keep the doors open and feed the children. If Monsieur Landowski really wished to make a difference, he might see fit to provide some of these children with a loving home.’ I saw Evelyn bristle, and gesture down towards me. Madame Gagnon raised her eyebrows. ‘Well, it is time for the children to come out into the fresh air. They will be here for one hour only, and I expect you to be prompt in your return, Madame Evelyn. After recreation, I will let the boy out of the gates, and he will no longer be my responsibility.’
