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older, and loved her with less pain, he would begin to tell her the truth.

4
    And so every Friday night and Saturday morning, Marcus lived with the Sousatzka Method. He grew less and less interested in his school. Among his school friends and in class, he felt himself slightly superior. After all, he had eaten pears and chicken, both at the same time; he felt himself almost betrothed to Jenny, with whom he had tea every Friday; he knew a man in a white coat who was something special, and above all, he spent his week-ends with a real Countess. The word Cordle had used still escaped him, and it was not until about six months after first meeting him that its meaning became clear.
    Of late, his mother had been nagging him to hold himself erect. ‘A cripple you will grow up to be,’ she warned him. ‘Is the way you practise. When Mr Lawrence was your teacher, with a straight back you played. Also you gave concerts, it’s true. But concerts. And now already six months with Madame Sousatzka, and a hump he has. And does she mention a concert? Never.’
    â€˜Madame Sousatzka’s a much better teacher than Mr Lawrence,’ Marcus defended her. ‘Madame Sousatzka teaches more than just the piano. I’ve learnt more with Madame Sousatzka in six months than I ever learnt with Mr Lawrence. If anyone can make me a pianist, it’s Madame Sousatzka.’
    â€˜Madame Sousatzka this, Madame Sousatzka that. Like she’s God you talk about her. And tell me, since she’s so clever, the almighty Madame Sousatzka, tell me please, what great names have learnt with her? Who is the famous pupil of the great Madame Sousatzka? Who? I ask you. For twelve years she is teaching the piano. What happened to all the pupils? They go afterwards to someone else perhaps? Someone better, perhaps? All right, so you learnt already many pieces with her, concertos and so on. But for concertosyou need orchestra. You need concerts. You need audience. I’m not satisfied. I’m not satisfied at all,’ she concluded. ‘Next Friday, I’ll have a talk with Madame Sousatzka. About two things I want to know. One is the hump, the other is the concerts.’
    His mother’s decisive tone frightened Marcus. Above all, he wanted to keep Madame Sousatzka and her household to himself. He didn’t want his mother trespassing on what he guiltily considered his private life. ‘You don’t have to tell her, Momma, I’ll talk to her,’ he said weakly.
    â€˜I can see you talking to the great Madame Sousatzka. She will tell you a hump is in the fashion, and you’ll believe her. She’ll tell you a concert is out of the fashion, and also that you’ll believe. No, I’ll see her myself. Next Friday, I’ll talk to her.’
    And despite all Marcus’s pleadings and promises to handle the matter himself, Mrs Crominski forced her way into Vauxhall Mansions the following Friday. While on the bus, she had rehearsed her speech. She wasn’t going to ask. She was going to tell, and Madame Sousatzka was going to listen to her. She slowly began to hate her, not only for the hump and the lack of concerts, but because Marcus practically worshipped her.
    But when she faced Madame Sousatzka in her studio, all her belligerence melted. There was something disarming about Madame Sousatzka. She was a woman who could be hated only
in absentia
.
    â€˜Is it possible we should have a talk?’ Mrs Crominski said timidly.
    â€˜Naturally.’ Madame Sousatzka was very forthcoming. ‘We will talk about Marcus?’
    â€˜There are one or two things …’ Mrs Crominski had completely forgotten her speech. She tried to hang on to her determination to voice her opinion anyway. As Marcus left the room, he smiled at Madame Sousatzka and shrugged his shoulders as if to absolve himself from responsibility for anything his mother might say. He decided to go downstairs and talk to