Philip Hensher - The Emperor Waltz

‘That’s Jungle Juice,’ Anita said. ‘That’s poppers, is it?’

‘I love poppers,’ Nathan said, putting it back in his pocket. ‘Oh, we love poppers. You just take one sniff, Anita, and it’s amazing, you’re falling over. One time, right, we were in IT and we were just passing it around, because our IT teacher, Mr Brandon, he never notices anything, you can just show him your screen and he’s lost in space, and the whole class was just high, and, Anita, listen, Mr Brandon just never noticed.’

‘Yeah, Brandon, he wallad,’ Nick said.

‘He what?’ Anita said.

‘He wallad, I said,’ Nick said, thrusting his chin out and shrugging.

‘I have no idea what that means,’ Anita said. ‘I can’t understand half the things you say. Wallad?’

‘Yeah, man, everyone knows wallad,’ Nathan said.

‘I’m like so –’ she made a face of horror and despair, a mask of tragedy and abandonment ‘– when I even like listen to you, you know what I mean? It was like this one time, at my friend’s house, you know, it was just like …’

‘You don’t have to like listen,’ Nick said.

‘Yeah, but I can’t help it, you know, I’m stuck in here.’

The door opened, and there was the eleven-year-old. He had been dressed by his mummy. He wore an ironed white short-sleeved shirt and blue trousers; his shoes were black lace-ups. He himself wore a cheerful, open expression, his black hair cut short at the back and sides, sticking up somewhat on top. Behind him was Mrs Khan, smoking.

‘Hi, kids,’ she said. ‘Having a good time? This is Basil. That’s Anita, and that’s …’

‘Nick,’ said Nick, and ‘Nathan,’ said Nathan.

‘That’s right. You know Mrs Osborne, don’t you? Have you met Basil before? He’s not in your school yet, are you, Basil?’

‘No, Mrs Khan,’ Basil said. ‘But I’m in the same orchestra as Anita. She plays the violin and I play the cello, though I’m only in the seventh desk back. We’re rehearsing Dvo ák’s Eighth Symphony and the Emperor Waltz at the moment. The cello’s not really my main instrument, though. My main instrument’s the organ, but you can’t play that in orchestras apart from a few pieces. For instance, did you know Mahler’s Eighth Symphony has a part for an organ?’

‘I never knew that,’ Mrs Khan said, puffing on her cigarette. ‘That you were in the same orchestra as Anita. We must have a word with your mum, and then we can pick you up together rather than both turning out every week. That would save a lot of effort.’

‘Oh, it’s not an effort for Mummy,’ Basil said. ‘She says she enjoys the drive and I’m happy to be with her as much as possible, since the divorce, you know.’

Nick and Nathan exchanged incredulous glances of joy.

‘Oh, yes,’ Mrs Khan said, with an air of distaste. ‘Of course. Well, I must be getting back downstairs. There’s lots of food there, on the tray, look – my daughter and these two haven’t started it yet. I’m happy to see she has some manners still. If there’s anything else you need, just come downstairs. Bina’s cooking in the kitchen and she’ll help you out, help you to find anything. There’s some dessert, which she’ll bring up when you want it, it’s her special dessert, you’ll love it. You’d make everyone so happy if you ate the salad, too, kids. Well, I live in hope. See you all later.’

She left, closing the door.

‘Is this your father’s study?’ Basil Osborne said. He went round the room, looking in particular at all the books. ‘What do you think of the Emperor Waltz , Anita? It’s hard, isn’t it, harder than you think it’s going to be, but it’s satisfying when you get it right. I didn’t think I knew it, but I’d heard it before, somewhere. I know you, I’ve seen you a lot, but we’ve never said hello or anything like that.’

Anita was looking at him with disbelief.

‘So, Basil,’ Nick said heavily. ‘You play the organ.’

‘Yes, that’s right,’ Basil said. ‘I don’t have one at home, of course! I have to go and practise it in St Leonard’s Church, you know, the one up by the bus terminus. They let me come in on Tuesdays and Thursdays after school. Shall I sit here?’

‘Is it a big organ?’ Nathan said. ‘Do you like a big organ, Basil?’

‘Well, I’ve seen bigger organs, perhaps in cathedrals,’ said Basil. ‘But I’ve never played a really big one, I’ve only played on quite medium-sized organs, like the one in St Leonard’s. Is that food for us? Golly. It looks delish. Can we start on it or are we waiting for someone?’

‘Does it give you a lot of pleasure,’ Nick said ‘When you sit on a really big organ.’

‘Well, I don’t know that the size of the organ makes all that much difference,’ Basil said. ‘But I wouldn’t know. It’s true that even a moderate-sized one, when it’s going at full tilt, can be really exciting.’

‘So when you see a big organ,’ Nathan said, ‘I bet you can’t wait to sit on it.’

‘I don’t know that that’s really what organists think,’ Basil said, puzzled.

‘Oh, shut up,’ Anita said. ‘They’re being horrible, don’t pay any attention. Do you want some food? There’s plenty. That’s like lemon squash or you can have some Coke. There’s some like orange juice as well.’

Basil scrambled up from the beanbag and started filling his plate with food. It was as if he were in a race and might end without enough.

‘Take your time, man, take your time. Ain’t no ting,’ Nathan said.

‘You talk like black people do,’ Basil said gleefully, with an air of discovery. ‘There’s a boy in my class called Silas who comes from Jamaica, at least his parents do, he was born here, and sometimes he talks like his grandmother talks and he sounds just like you do. This looks really good, I like everything here. It was nice of your mother to make all this food specially for us.’

‘Yes, she knew how to make food that appeals to people who talk like a boy called Silas’s grandmother,’ Anita said. ‘Ah, Basil, you make me laugh, you really do.’

‘That ain’t true,’ Nick said. ‘Do I look I’m laughing, man?’

‘True that,’ Anita said, in Nick and Nathan’s style. Then she went into hostess mode. ‘Take your plate and sit down, Basil – there’s plenty of food, you can go back for more later. And some squash? Or Coke? There’s more downstairs if we finish this bottle.’

‘Like I say, man, take your time, ain’t no ting,’ Nick said.

‘Skeen, man,’ Nathan said. ‘Is it time to get wavey, man?’

‘Because Anita, that OJ, that Coke, that lemon squash and shit, well, I look forward to that, but there is something that you can put into those things to make them a less long, alie?’ Nick said.

‘I have literally less than no idea what you’re talking about,’ Anita said. ‘Anyway.’

‘Anita,’ Nick said. ‘Have you got any vodka that we can maybe put into the OJ?’

Anita looked from one to the other; she did not look at Basil, who had a samosa in hand and was, frozen, examining them all with interest. ‘Have I got any vodka?’ she said.

‘Vodka, yeah,’ Nathan said. ‘I know you do, girl.’

‘Is there anything else with your banter? Some like rum for the Coke or some gin for the lemon squash and shit or anything else completely random, you know what I mean?’

‘Oh, man, who’s the fool now, bro?’ Nathan said.

‘Well, I don’t know about that,’ Basil said. ‘I don’t think it’s a very good idea if your parents come upstairs at the end of the night and you’re all stinking of booze and can’t get up because you’re so drunk. They’ll smell it on you straight away. I could always tell when my daddy had been drinking because you could smell it on him, even the next morning, and he always said, Never again.’