Beyond the Shadow of Night(36)

When she stopped for a break he approached her, clapping his hands in appreciation. She blushed, but also frowned in mock disapproval of his actions.

“Hello again,” she said.

Asher held out a hand. “Do you want me to hold anything?”

She offered him the violin and bow, which he took, showing great care.

“It’s very early,” he said. “When did you start playing?”

“Dawn—as soon as people appeared on the street. And I’ll go home at dusk.”

“I’m sorry I upset you yesterday,” Asher said. “I just wanted to know more about you.”

She gave him a coy, sideways glance. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, where do you live now?”

“With my aunt in the north of the sector.”

Asher nodded. “The one you stayed with while they were repairing the café?”

“How do you know about that?”

“I worked on the repair, remember? I heard your papa talk of you.” He noticed her smile drop. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Forget I mentioned your—”

“It’s all right. You helped him. I should be thanking you.”

“Oh, I made sure your papa thanked me; I think I ate my weight in cakes that day.”

They both laughed, although a glance at each other’s figures, their waistlines shrinking by the month, lent a bittersweet edge to their laughter which neither wanted to mention.

“Are you happy living with your aunt?”

Izabella grimaced. “Mmm . . . they’re nice, but her and her husband and four sons, all in one room? Let’s just say I don’t mind being outside all day. Besides, if I don’t beg, I don’t eat.”

“Doesn’t your aunt get the rations?”

“Not for me.”

“Really? You must suffer from hunger a lot.”

She nodded.

“In that case, how would you like to come to my home for a meal?”

“When?”

“Whenever you want to. How about today?” Asher peered into her eyes, trying to read what she thought of him, whether the lure was the food or spending time with him. It was probably the food, but that was understandable. “If it was up to me, you would come to our apartment to eat every day.”

“You have an apartment?”

“I’m sorry. A slip of the tongue. We used to have an apartment before we came to the Jewish sector. Now we have one room, and it’s very cramped with five of us sharing, forever getting under each other’s feet.” He checked himself. “Of course, not as cramped as seven would be.”

She shrugged. “It’s a roof over my head. I’m used to it by now.”

“So, you’ll come for a meal?” Asher said.

“Definitely.” She reached for her violin and bow. “What time?”

“Six o’clock tonight. Shall I come here for you?”

“Of course,” she said, drawing bow across strings as though warming them up.

Asher was conscious of his face flushing, and shifted from foot to foot, trying to quell his nervousness. “That’s good. I’ll come to fetch you.” He took a pace back.

“One other thing,” she said.

“What?”

“Your name?” she said. “You haven’t told me your name.”

Asher cursed himself. Now he could feel his skin almost burning with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I should have said. I’m Asher Kogan.”

“I’ll see you here just before six, Asher. Now I have to work.”

She started playing, and Asher watched for a few minutes, closing his eyes once or twice to allow the music to permeate better, then turned and ran. He had his own begging to do.



Later that day, Asher turned up early, finding Izabella studiously caressing the strings of her violin as usual. She flashed him a coy grin but continued playing, and Asher lost all sense of time while he listened, unable to take his eyes off her—so much so that he was a little startled when she stopped and took three paces to stand face to face with him. She said hello, and he paused before returning the greeting, as though snapping himself out of a trance.

The reaction clearly puzzled Izabella. “I’m sorry, Asher. I thought you were taking me to your home for a meal today. Am I being presumptuous? Tell me if I—”

“No, no. You’re right, of course. It’s all been arranged. Follow me please.”

Izabella put her violin in its case, and Asher insisted on carrying it for her. They walked side by side, Asher talking about the room his family lived in, Izabella nodding agreeably. Whenever their arms brushed together he paused, his heartbeat quickening. Once or twice their hands touched, Asher feeling her warm flesh for only a second. As they approached the apartment block he felt the urge to gently place his hand over hers, which he resisted, although the mere thought made him lose the thread of what he was saying.

They arrived just as the bowls were being laid out on the table, and there was enough time for brief introductions to be made before the soup was served.

“It’s a lovely room you have here,” Izabella said as they all started eating.

“Oh, it’s not much,” Asher replied. “We used to have an apartment with two bedrooms.”