Page 37 of Atlas: The Story of Pa Salt
I cast my eyes down, sighed and nodded.
‘It is, of course, why I am happy to home you here with my family. I hope that this goes some way to restoring your faith in humanity.’ He looked out of the atelier window. ‘It is hard to remember sometimes, particularly when you have experienced the sadness which I can sense in you... but in this life, there are far more good people than there are bad.’
I put pen to paper.You are a good person.
‘Ah! I try. Although I may be forced to go into a murderous rage if Brouilly fails to deliver myCristoto Rio in perfect condition.’
I let out a small chuckle.
‘Was that a laugh, dear boy?! Goodness, Iamprivileged today.’ Landowski went back to filling out the forms required by Monsieur Ivan for my enrolment.
I suddenly felt compelled to give Monsieur Landowski something to demonstrate how grateful I was. His selflessness was not something to which I was accustomed, and the sight of him dedicating precious moments of his day to doing something for me compelled me to act. Despite the ball of nervous energy building in my stomach, I steeled myself, and opened my mouth.
‘Thank you, monsieur,’ I uttered meekly.
Landowski’s eyes widened, and an enormous smile appeared on his face. ‘Well. Good. It is my pleasure.’
I put a finger to my lips, and used my eyes to plead with him.
‘Do not worry, boy. Your spoken gratitude will remain between you and me. Now, I shall have Evelyn post these papers back to the conservatoire. Monsieur Ivan has suggested that you begin next week. With that in mind, I think perhaps we should refresh your wardrobe.’
14th January 1929
Today, Evelyn took me to Paris. We travelled to an enormous building on the Left Bank in the 7th arrondissement, called Le Bon Marché. It was a shop like no other I had seen before. Under one roof, one is able to purchase food, furniture and clothing. Evelyn told me that this was called a ‘department store’. I am indebted to Monsieur Landowski and his family for purchasing me a pair of new brown shoes and a blazer of my own, in addition to a number of shorts, shirts and undergarments. I had never before experienced the services of a tailor, who is a gentleman who measures clothing to ensure it fits the body perfectly. Evelyn instructed him to leave some room in the jacket, for she predicts that I will grow quite quickly. Whilst we waited for the good monsieur to finish his work, Evelyn kindly bought me an éclair au chocolat from the Grande Épicerie on the bottom floor, which is a sprawling food hall that stretches on for miles. Then we walked down by the River Seine. I felt as though I was in the famous painting by Monsieur Seurat. After we had collected the clothing and returned home, I rushed up to my room to practise my scales for Monsieur Ivan, as my tuition begins tomorrow.
‘Bo D’Aplièse!Entre,s’il te plaît.’ Monsieur Ivan’s thin frame beckoned me into his small classroom. Although the exterior of the conservatoire was very grand, the tuition spaces were not. Red felt had been attached to the peeling wallpaper to absorb the sound, and there was a distinctly stale smell which hung in the air. Not that I was going to be put off by that. ‘May I compliment you on your fine surname, which I have learnt since our last meeting. Quite unique.’ Monsieur Ivan stroked his scrawny chin.
I bowed my head.
‘Ah, yes! The boy who does not speak. Well, I shall not waste time with chit-chat,petit monsieur. Let us begin.’
I went to open my violin case.
‘Non!We must allow the instrument to acclimatise to the room. It is fresh in from the Parisian streets in January, and must warm up. Speaking of which, please follow my lead.’ Monsieur Ivan raised his left hand and stretched out his fingers.
‘Un, deux, squeeze!’ He promptly formed a fist, and I followed his lead. ‘We must do this five times, both hands.’
After, Monsieur Ivan made me lay my hands on his desk. Then he asked that I lift each finger as far as possible, and hold it in place for a one-two count. Clearly, Monsieur Ivansensed my confusion, as this had certainly never featured in my sessions with Papa.
‘Petit monsieur, do you not think that a runner would stretch before taking to the track? We owe it to the instrument to be ready to play.’
I nodded, and only after several minutes of finger and wrist preparation was I permitted to remove my violin from its case.
‘Now, follow me, please,’ Monsieur Ivan instructed. I copied his trills and études, before we moved on to scales and arpeggios. ‘Very good, little Bo. I notice you have improved since our first meeting. Have you been practising?’
I nodded once more.
‘Very promising. It is this characteristic which can allow an average player to ascend to greatness. So, as your tutor, I will teach you higher-level string techniques such as control ofvibrato, different bowing attacks and the harmonic series. I will attempt to correct problems in your technique, and encourage you to push the boundaries of musical interpretation. Does this sound acceptable to you?’
It sounded more than acceptable. Indeed, it seemed that God Himself had offered to show me the gateway to heaven.
The rest of the lesson was exhausting. I never managed to play more than a few notes as Monsieur Ivan would stop me to comment on my finger placement, my posture or my musicality. It was a whirlwind of admonishment, and I started to question why I had ever picked up a violin in the first place. Just as I was about to begin crying, Monsieur Ivan declared that our first session was over.
‘I do believe that our time is up, Monsieur Bo.’
I removed my chin from the saddle, and allowed the violin and bow to swing down by my knees.
‘Tiring, no? Do not worry, this is normal. You have neverhad a proper lesson before. Many of our sessions will be similarly tough, for your body and for your mind. But it will get easier each time, I promise you that. I shall see you on Friday. In the meantime, please practise relaxing your shoulders. I noticed that each time I stopped you from playing, they became tighter and tighter. This is no good for us.’
