Page 42 of Atlas: The Story of Pa Salt
We sped through the corridors, Elle dragging me with such force that I had to jog to keep up with her. When we arrived, I sat on one of the old chairs where the leather seat pad had worn down to the metal beneath. Elle unpacked and rapidly assembled her flute.
‘I have decided I will play Debussy – ‘Prélude à l’après-midi d’un faune’. Please do not criticise my ability too harshly. Remember, I have never had any professional tuition.’ I could hardly believe that the most beautiful human in the world was about to treat me to a private concert. ‘Now I will begin.’ She lifted the flute to her mouth, and inhaled deeply.
It was clear how musically proficient she was. What was magical, though, was that Elle had taught herself to play from books alone. I do not believe that I would have had the capacity to do such a thing. Her reason for picking up an instrument in the first place was far more noble than my own. She played because it was a tribute to her lost parents, a way to connect with them even though they were no longer here.
I closed my eyes. The resonance of this once-grand oldbuilding ensured that the notes hummed pleasantly in the air. Nonetheless, I forced the musician in me to assess the technicalities of Elle’s playing, as requested. I noted her breathing was erratic, and she was rushing through Debussy’s work. I took out my pen.
Relax.I held up my note.
She lifted her eyes and read my message, then removed the flute from her mouth.
I scribbled once more.Remember, I am only an eleven-year-old boy!
To my delight, she laughed, and nodded at me. She inhaled again, and started the piece from the beginning. This time, the notes were without their staccato edge, and suddenly I understood the benefit of travelling to the ‘sacred space’ which Monsieur Ivan describes. When she finished, I stood up to applaud.
‘Stop it. That was better, but you’re right, the first time was terrible.’ I shook my head. ‘You don’t need to be kind. I was just so nervous to play for you, Bo. All I’ve been able to think about since you left last time is how much I wanted to impress you.’
You did!I was secretly thrilled that my opinion meant so much to Elle.
‘Now, I’ll play my viola. I feel as if I’m less established on it than I am on the flute.’
Elle raised the instrument to her chin and began to play Strauss’sDon Quixote. She was correct in her assessment – she was stronger on the flute, but showed clear promise on the viola, too. When she finished, I made sure my applause was as rapturous as before.
I cannot believe you are self-taught.
‘Thank you. Neither can I, sometimes. I suppose it is the result of hours of loneliness. But anyway, please, tell me what you think, Bo. How can I improve?’
Neither are my instrument, but I shall try to provide general tips!I proceeded to write a list of basic tricks that I had learnt during my study with Monsieur Ivan.
‘Gosh, thank you, Bo. I’ll make sure to put everything into practice.’ She examined the list. ‘You’ve writtenpractise bow placementhere. Can you show me what you mean?’ I walked towards Elle and picked up her bow. Then I stood behind her and took her right hand. I gently stretched it in front of her, turning her palm so that it faced us both. Next, I brought the bow in, and lined it up with the base of her fingers. ‘Like that?’ Elle asked. I nodded.
I took her thumb, and ensured it was pushing into the wood with a slight firmness. Then I placed her middle finger directly opposite, the joint just touching the bow. Of course, the viola itself was much larger than it should be for a child musician, on account of it belonging to Elle’s mother, so my adjustments would have felt doubly alien to her.
‘Gosh, I didn’t realise I’d been getting it so wrong.’ I returned to face Elle, and continued to manipulate her fingers into the position now drilled into me by Monsieur Ivan. As I was doing so, I caught Elle’s eye. She was looking at me in a funny sort of way, like she wanted me to do something, but wasn’t saying what it was. I must have returned her gaze in a quizzical way, because she giggled. Then she leant in, and kissed me. Her soft lips pressed against mine, and my world changed forever.
‘I see we are done with our music lesson.’
A chill passed down my spine as I spun around to see the figure of Madame Gagnon lurking in the open doorway. Elle immediately went to clip her viola into her case, and picked up her flute. She rushed towards the door.
‘I will put these away in the dormitory, Madame Gagnon.’
Madame Gagnon raised a single eyebrow in response, butallowed Elle to pass and scurry away. The two of us were left in the common room, and Madame Gagnon was giving me a stare that could fell a carthorse mid-gallop. I was suddenly overcome with immense shame. Special permission had been granted for Elle to play for me away from the eyes of the other children, and it must have seemed that I was abusing Madame Gagnon’s leniency. I hurriedly picked up my pen and began scribbling an apology.
‘Don’t write, just sit,’ Madame Gagnon said, pointing at a chair.
I was convinced that she was about to tell me I was no longer welcome at the orphanage, which would, of course, mean that I would no longer be able to see Elle. In seconds, I felt my world would unravel around me, and my hope turn to despair. I took a seat and, to my surprise, Madame Gagnon closed the door to the common room and sat opposite me. She must have seen the look of terror in my eyes, because, quite incredibly, she said something comforting.
‘She is quite taken with you, young monsieur. I hope you know how fragile young women’s hearts are. You are to be very delicate with it.’ I nodded. ‘Needless to say, if I ever see any of that... business again, I will not hesitate to whack you with my stick. Do you understand me clearly?’
Yes, Madame Gagnon.
‘Good. Now, I have something to discuss with you. I have worked here at the Apprentis d’Auteuil for the past twenty years, and seen hundreds of children pass through its doors. It has always been my priority to try and find my wards new homes as quickly as possible, but never at the expense of their own well-being.’ Madame Gagnon paused and took in a deep breath. ‘After the war, we faced a very difficult period, with no resources and many children. I was not sure that it would be possible to feed so many mouths, let alone provide everyonewith medicines, bedding, clothing and all the other necessities for rearing a child. It was a very difficult situation. This meant that I was forced into making some hard decisions. Elle and her brother arrived shortly after their mother had succumbed to influenza. A month previously, a wealthy couple from abroad asked me to inform them if the orphanage received any newborns, for they could not conceive a child. I assured them that I would, and normally I would have been all too happy to arrange for a child to move straight into a loving home. But... this baby had an older sibling. Under normal circumstances I would not have permitted adoption unless the family agreed to take them both. As far as I am concerned, when children have already lost their parents, it is imperative that they stay together. However, as I mentioned, I feared for the future of the orphanage, and I am ashamed to say that I allowed practicality to overrule morality. In short, I should not have permitted Elle’s younger brother to be separated from her. Each year that she has been here at the orphanage, overlooked by families, my guilt has increased. As she has no doubt told you, she plays her instruments so that she feels a connection to her parents?’ I nodded. ‘Perhaps you can imagine just how upsetting that sound is to me, when I am solely responsible for taking away the true link to her past – her younger brother.’
Who took Elle’s brother?
Madame Gagnon cast her eyes down to the floor. ‘I’m sure you would not doubt that someone as officious as myself keeps impeccable records of every young person that passes through our doors. But on this occasion, the couple who took the baby wished to remain completely anonymous, so it could never be discovered that the son was not their own. As I said previously, I was under incredible pressure. In addition, the family agreed to make a substantial donation to the orphanage.As they say, one should not look a gift horse in the mouth. But, as a consequence, not only is Elle separated from her brother, she has no hope of ever finding him.’
What nationality were the wealthy couple?I wrote, in the hope that at least I’d have something to tell Elle if this conversation were ever to be mentioned.
