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Uncle.
    â€˜Well, Mrs Crominski,’ Madame Sousatzka said when they were alone, ‘have you heard your son? Have you heardthe music he makes since he is with me? So proud you must be of him.’
    But Mrs Crominski hadn’t come to discuss Marcus’s talents. ‘It’s about the hump,’ she said.
    â€˜The hump?’
    â€˜Yes.’ Mrs Crominski tried to hide her impatience. ‘The hump.’
    â€˜Where, Mrs Crominski, is the hump?’
    â€˜Where else should a hump be? On his back of course.’
    Madame Sousatzka laughed and Mrs Crominski’s belligerence came slowly flooding back. ‘Ha ha,’ she echoed, ‘so funny it is. A cripple he is, my son. A big joke.’
    Madame Sousatzka was genuinely taken aback. ‘Mrs Crominski,’ she said, taking her hand, ‘is no hump, is no cripple, Marcus. Is only for the time being, the bump.’ Madame Sousatzka’s diagnosis was less severe. ‘Listen, I explain. For years he learn with Mr L.R.A.M. For years he is tight inside him. He plays for Mr Letter-Man with straight back. And you think, this is fine, my Marcus has a straight back. But you are wrong, Mrs Crominski. That is not a straight back. That is strait-jacket back. All the muscles tense and tight. I teach Marcus to be pianist, not soldier. You see, the back,’ she went over to Mrs Crominski and ran her fingers over her spine. ‘The back is like the elastic. It moves. It moves with the head and the hands. With Mr L.R.A.M. Marcus plays the piano with his fingers. The back is not wanted. Therefore is the back straight. But with Sousatzka, he plays with the whole body, with the back also. He relax. The bump is what is left from Mr Lawrence constrictions. It comes out from the body. Soon it will all be gone.’
    It seemed logical enough to Mrs Crominski and she was more or less satisfied with the explanation. She realized that none of her prepared speech had been made and she was slightly irritated that Madame Sousatzka had so easily made her point.
    â€˜But is simple,’ Madame Sousatzka went on. ‘Upstairs is Mr Cordle. A very great osteopath. Very often I have the pupils who come to me from letter-men. And very often happens the bump. Mr Cordle will massage after eachlesson. Not to pay,’ she added hastily, ‘In all ways, Marcus is for nothing. A few weeks’ massage. All gone then, Mrs Crominski.’
    Mrs Crominski smiled. ‘You are good to my boy, Madame Sousatzka,’ she said. ‘Is very difficult to bring up a boy without a father. Especial a boy with talent like my Marcus.’ She was beginning to love this woman and she began to understand and forgive Marcus’s adoration. ‘Another thing I want to talk,’ she went on chattily. ‘About a concert.’
    â€˜Of course, of course,’ Madame Sousatzka said quickly. ‘Many concerts. But when he is ready, Mrs Crominski. Only when Sousatzka knows he is ready.’
    There was such a finality in her answer that Mrs Crominski felt she could not pursue the question without casting doubt on Madame Sousatzka’s musical judgment. But she knew that later on she would regret her silence. She couldn’t let Madame Sousatzka get away with everything so easily. First the hump and now the concerts. She tried desperately to pick up some threads of her speech.
    â€˜Already for six months he is having with you the lessons. Already with Mr Lawrence he is giving concerts. Why for Mr Lawrence he is ready, and after six months with you, with more pieces to play, he suddenly isn’t ready. That I don’t understand.’ Even with this timid protest Mrs Crominski felt she had gone too far. ‘Of course,’ she added, ‘is difference between you and Mr Lawrence.’
    â€˜Is big difference,’ Madame Sousatzka said, ‘for Mr Lawrence he is ready. For Sousatzka, no. Believe me, Mrs Crominski, when Marcus is ready, so many