But Feliks was in, and he answered the door almost immediately after her knock. He seemed surprised to see her, and for a moment he stood there, blinking, as if trying to remember who she was.

‘This is for you,’ she said, handing him the leather case.

He took it from her, gingerly. He stared at it, turning the case over in his hands. He looked up at her, somewhat puzzled.

‘Open it,’ she said. ‘Go on. Just open it.’

When he saw the flute, he gasped. ‘This is for me?’

She gave him an encouraging smile. ‘You told me that you played. You said that you didn’t have a flute. Well, now you do.’

He lifted the flute from its case and examined it carefully. ‘It is very fine. Very fine.’ He paused. ‘But I cannot pay. Not yet. Maybe later.’

‘Nonsense. This is a present. Consider it … consider it to be a thank-you present for all the work that you’re doing here. Otherwise this place would be lying fallow.’

He nodded, showing that he understood. Then he lifted the flute to his lips, and without blowing, his fingers moved to a succession of positions. He was quick, light in his touch.

She looked past him through the door, into the room behind. It was sparsely furnished – a table, a single chair, a wireless that Feliks must have got from somewhere. The farmer was mean – or so everybody said – and he did not provide any comfort for this man who worked for him. She frowned.

‘May I play it?’ He tapped the flute. ‘It is so beautiful.’

‘Of course. It’s yours now. Yours to play.’

She listened as he played a tune she did not recognise. His playing was deft; he knew his instrument. She would invite him to join the orchestra; he was clearly good enough. When he had finished playing, she asked him whether he would care to join.

‘Now that you have given me this,’ he said, ‘how could I refuse?’

‘You could not,’ she said. ‘Or rather, you could, but it would be very rude.’

‘In that case,’ he said, smiling, ‘in that case, yes.’

7

The following week, Feliks came for his first orchestral practice. La introduced him to the conductor and to the other flautist, and then went to the back of the hall where she sat during practice. ‘Just ignore me,’ she said, and they usually did. But she watched and listened, and knew the strengths and weaknesses of each player. The bassoonist had a weak sense of timing and occasionally came in too late, or too early, or sometimes not at all. The cellos were good; they never made any mistakes. The brass section had a tendency to be noisy and from time to time had to be asked to keep quiet while the conductor was explaining something. One or two of the violinists were hesitant in their playing, and the conductor would lean towards them in an exaggerated way, a hand cupped to his ear.