‘I’ve been thinking of something,’ she said to him one day. ‘Do you think it’s bad luck to plan for something in advance? Before it happens?’

He seemed to read her thoughts. ‘Like victory?’

‘Yes. In particular, a victory concert. It might happen at any time, you see, and the orchestra must be ready.’

He brushed some soil off his fingers and wiped his hands on his trousers. ‘A very good idea. We should plan it. But I have one request. Can we play something Polish? Please. I know it’s your victory, but for us, too, we have struggled …’

She readily accepted his suggestion. They started to practise, although nobody said what it was for. They all knew, though, that this concert would be a special one. When the day came, suddenly, dramatically, they made posters and put them up within hours. The orchestra was ready.

The programme was a long one, because La knew that nobody would want it to end. The hall was packed; people stood at the back, their arms on each other’s shoulders. They embraced, and at the end instruments were laid down and the members of the orchestra shook hands with each other. They smiled at each other.

Feliks walked with La back to her house. She stopped outside the door. He smiled at her and held out his hand. ‘You have been so kind to me,’ he said.

They shook hands.

‘What will happen to the orchestra?’ he said. ‘Now that this … this is all over?’

They had not spoken about this before. She knew, though, that it would be difficult. People would leave, would move on. The orchestra would probably not continue. The conductor was too old now and would not want to carry on, now that the country was at peace, or almost at peace.

‘I’m afraid that it will probably fold up,’ she said. ‘It’s had its day. Sad, but there we are.’

‘It could carry on,’ he said. ‘Life will go on.’

She smiled at him. ‘Yes, life will go on. But I have to be realistic about the orchestra. We’ve had a good time. We really have.’

He sighed. ‘Oh, well.’ Then he turned and walked down the road. He did not see her expression.

11

It had been so difficult to travel, but now she could. She decided that she would go down to Cornwall, where her cousin lived. They had not seen one another for some years, and in that time her cousin had married. She wanted to meet the man whom she had only seen in photographs.

She spent three weeks in Cornwall, staying in the house that her cousin and the new husband lived in at the edge of a village. Her cousin grew vegetables and kept hens; La ate large mushroom omelettes for breakfast, making up for the years when it had been difficult to buy eggs. In the mornings, when she woke up, her cousin’s husband brought a tea tray and put it beside her bed.