and swaying to the music, her face intent and almost angry.
He jumped. Behind him in the shadows of the hallway stood Mr Hanbury, tall in a double-breasted suit. A cloud of alcohol, not so much like the thick beer smell from Dad, but something finer; the word brandy came to mind. Mr Hanburyâs handsome, matinee idol face had a high colour. He drew on a small cigar.
âI see we have yet another music lover among us. Well, go on in then, boy.â
Mr Hanbury took the chair by the fireplace. He struck a match for another small cigar, waved it along to the music, taking sips of smoke. Peter felt like a lemon standing there, unexplained and awkward just inside the door. The others glanced at him but carried on as if under an urgent spell to finish the tune. He let the buzz of the cello reverberate in his chest, felt the thumps of the piano through his feet, Aliceâs violin bow sawing his heart into slices.
When they stopped Mr Hanbury clapped. Alice came over to her fatherâs chair, leant down over the back and slid her arms round her fatherâs neck. âYou went out again.â
âI see you rotters didnât wait for me for supper.â
âShall I ask Maudey, dear?â
âNo. No. In fact I ate there.â
âAnd you brought Peter in to listen to our Schubert.â
âI found him outside the door, trying to listen through the crack.â
Peter blushed.
âOh, itâs not nice to listen outside doors, Peter,â said Mrs Hanbury mildly.
âBut you enjoyed the Schubert, didnât you, Peter?â Alice came and took his hand, led him to a chair.
He nodded hard.
âYou see,â she addressed the room. âGiven the opportunity theydonât just want to listen to big bands and George Formby and all that kind of ephemera. Itâs all a question of educating minds, raising everybody up to the same level.â
âIt would certainly help if they would hurry up and find some places in the local schools for these evacuees,â said Mrs Hanbury. âThey are saying we might have to wait until they can organise some kind of shift system to accommodate all the children. In the meantime Peter is going to be wandering around with little to do.â She shook her head.
âDo you read books, Peter?â Alice looked at him, frowning, as if he needed adjusting properly in some way. He brushed a hand across his face in case it had a mark on it.
âI love books, me, miss.â
âWell, thatâs splendid. There are stacks of them up in my room. Would you like me to pick some out for you, Peter?â
âYes please.â
âWell, Iâm so glad you know how to read.â
âI took exam for the grammar school, miss. I passed it, miss.â
âYou were attending Manchester Grammar, Peter?â said Mrs Hanbury.
âI passed, but I werenât going to go in the end.â
âBut you should have seized the opportunity,â Alice told him. âWhy on earth didnât you go?â
âMa saved money in tin, but when it were time to buy the uniform it were empty. Me dad took the money. So we couldnât buy uniform.â
From the expression on Aliceâs face Peter realised that he had just said something that put him even further away from her comprehension.
âThatâs awful. How can people live like that? Youâve got to do something about it, Daddy. Canât you speak to the right people, please? Find him a place here?â
Mr Hanbury shrugged. âI can try, for you.â
Standing in front of the fireplace Alice launched into a small lecture.
âYou see, if we canât educate the masses upwards, then how can we have a society that can work together? I agree with Richard, the only class system now is education, and once everyone has access to that, well then.â With her high-domed forehead and finely cut chin Alice looked far too fragile to be holding so much righteous
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