Read Online The Childhood of Jesus by J. M. Coetzee - Free Book Online

laundered washing,’ he says. ‘What do you find so attractive about it?’
    â€˜I like the way it smells.’
    The next time he crosses the courtyard, he discreetly presses his face into a sheet and draws a deep breath. The smell is clean and warm and comforting.
    Later that day, glancing out of the window, he sees the boy sprawled on the lawn head to head with another, bigger boy. They seem to be conversing intimately.
    â€˜I see you have a new friend,’ he remarks over lunch. ‘Who is he?’
    â€˜Fidel. He can play the violin. He showed me his violin. Can I get a violin too?’
    â€˜Does he live in the Blocks?’
    â€˜Yes. Can I have a violin too?’
    â€˜We will see. Violins cost a lot of money, and you will need a teacher, you can’t just pick up a violin and play.’
    â€˜Fidel’s mother teaches him. She says she can teach me too.’
    â€˜It’s good that you have made a new friend, I am glad for you. As for violin lessons, perhaps I should first have a chat with Fidel’s mother.’
    â€˜Can we go now?’
    â€˜We can go later, after your nap.’
    Fidel’s apartment is on the far side of the courtyard. Even before he can knock, the door is thrown open and Fidel stands before them, sturdy, curly-headed, smiling.
    Though no larger than theirs and not as sunny, the apartment has a more welcoming air, perhaps because of its bright curtains with their cherry-blossom motif repeated across the bedspreads.
    Fidel’s mother comes forward to greet him: an angular, even gaunt young woman with prominent teeth and hair drawn tight behind her ears. In an obscure way he is disappointed by this first sight of her, though he has no reason to be.
    â€˜Yes,’ she confirms, ‘I have told your son he can join Fidelito in his music lessons. Later we can reassess and see if he has the aptitude and the will to progress.’
    â€˜That is very kind of you. Actually, David is not my son. I don’t have a son.’
    â€˜Where are his parents?’
    â€˜His parents…That is a difficult question. I will explain when we have more time. About the lessons: will he need a violin of his own?’
    â€˜With beginners I usually start on the recorder. Fidel’—she draws her son closer, he hugs her affectionately—‘Fidel learned the recorder for a year before he began the violin.’
    He turns to David. ‘Do you hear that, my boy? First you learn to play the recorder, then after that the violin. Agreed?’
    The boy pulls a face, shoots a glance at his new friend, is silent.
    â€˜It is a big undertaking, to become a violinist. You won’t succeed if your heart isn’t in it.’ He turns to Fidel’s mother. ‘May I ask, how much do you charge?’
    She gives him a surprised look. ‘I don’t charge,’ she says. ‘I do it for the music.’
    Her name is Elena. It is not the name he would have guessed. He would have guessed Manuela, or even Lourdes.
    He invites Fidel and his mother on a bus ride out to the New Forest, a ride that Álvaro has recommended (‘It was once a plantation, but it has been allowed to go wild—you will like it’). From the bus terminus the two boys race ahead up the path, while he and Elena stroll behind.
    â€˜Do you have many students?’ he asks her.
    â€˜Oh, I’m not a proper music teacher. I have just a few children whom I help with the basics.’
    â€˜How do you make a living if you don’t charge?’
    â€˜I take in sewing. I do this and that. I get a small grant from the Asistencia. I have enough. There are more important things than money.’
    â€˜Do you mean music?’
    â€˜Music, yes, but also how one lives. How one is to live.’
    A good answer, a serious answer, a philosophic answer. He is, for a moment, silenced.
    â€˜Do you see lots of people?’ he asks. ‘I mean’—he grasps the