Читать книгу When I was - Nataniël - Страница 8

When I was 11 years old our teacher told us that a very special choir was going to visit our town just before Christmas. She said they were really famous and were going to give a concert in the school hall. She said there were only boys in the choir and they needed to stay with different families, we had to discuss this with our parents and then put our names on the list of hosts. She said we needed to make them feel at home, they were really special.

I put up my hand and said, We’ll take two.

That night I told my parents two choir boys were going to stay with us.

We don’t have room, said my mother.

I don’t like choirs, said my father, It’s not normal.

Then I cried until my mother said they could stay in my room.

It’s not normal, said Father.

The day before the choir arrived, our teacher told us that we had to collect our guests from the school at four o’clock, make them feel welcome and remember that all of them were orphans. We were all shocked and ran home to tell our parents.

I don’t know anything about orphans! said my mother, What do they eat?

I’ve heard a lot about those, said my father, They look sad, but they develop faster than other children, they know every trick in the book, it’s not normal.

The next day we all stood in front of the school to receive our orphans. We were really scared and by the time the bus turned through the gates, most people were crying. Our first orphan was a tall boy with blond hair and bright blue eyes that looked like there was a light shining behind them. Our second orphan was a short boy with black hair and very long lashes like a girl. The leader of the choir told Mother he was a soloist and should not sit in a draft.

That night we were having supper when Mother asked the first orphan to pass the peas.

Peas are healthy, said father, Have you had some before?

The blond boy looked at Father.

Peas are the green vegetables with the highest fat content, he said, And when they are overcooked like this they also provide no fibre or nutrition. We’d prefer not to have any.

We immediately realised something memorable was about to happen and stopped eating.

Father put down his knife and fork.

Another thing that is healthy, he said, Is being grateful.

Oh, we are grateful, said the blond boy, For our talent and for the high standards that are being instilled in us.

We are sorry, said Mother, They told us you were orphans.

We are, said the blond boy, That means we have not met our biological parents, but we are not deformed, mentally inferior, unwashed, uneducated, spiritually impoverished or without taste.

You must be from a five-star orphanage, said Father.

We are not from an orphanage, said the boy, We live at the academy where we have our classes and choir practices. It’s one of the best in the world.

Father looked at his plate.

Academy, he said, It’s not normal.

That night I was lying in my dark room with the two orphans. I was trying to hear the soloist breathe. Mother had covered him with so many blankets, I thought he might be dead. The blond boy switched on a torch and pointed it at me.

Are you coming to the concert? he asked.

Yes, I said.

He turned the torch towards himself. His eyes looked like stars.

When we sing about Christmas, you have to close your eyes, he said, You have to imagine things that are not there.

Why? I said.

We perform all over the world, he said, Some places have snow and tall trees with wooden angels and real candles and knitted gloves and people who sing carols without blushing and tiny cakes with wise men made out of icing. It’s not how it really was in Bethlehem, but it’s magical. Around here there is very little magic. Without it you don’t believe in anything.

He pointed the torch at me.

Can you sing? he asked.

No, I said.

Then you just have to wait, he said.

For what? I said.

Your escape, he said.

It is now many years later and I haven’t escaped yet, but I do sing for a living. And when I sing or hear a Christmas song, I can’t help it, I think of snow, knitted gloves, green vegetables and an orphan with a torch and stars in his eyes.