Hannah & Emil Read Free Page B

immediately. He thrashed his way to the surface, saw that he was already several metres away from Thomas and the pier. Flailed, splashed, forgetting the movements he had practised.
    â€˜Emil!’ Thomas called. ‘EMIL!’
    Push the water away, he told himself, and he began to do it. It was no good, his head kept going under. He stroked harder but he hadn’t got his legs right. Made himself wait for half a second, the river pulling him along, while he coordinated his limbs. There was shouting on the bank, Thomas, the men now. His head stayed clear, he did it again, pushed harder on one side so that he was running forward with the current. Stopped for a split second to take a bigger breath, began to sink, made the movements again quickly, and again. He could keep his head up but he was surging with the water. Thomas’s voice was small behind him, like something he was beginning to forget.
    The bank was a few metres away. He saw the individual blades of grass, the path. When he needed to he would be close enough to reach them. Movement at the corner of his eye distracted him. It was Thomas, racing along the path, three men behind him, calling out, red-faced. He turned away from them, concentrated on his strokes. They were running hard; he must be going very fast.
    One of the men was sliding into the water just ahead of him. Another held the man’s arm from the bank while he reached out and grabbed hold of Emil’s hand. Emil was ducked under for a moment, water filling his nose and mouth, tasting of petroleum. He was furious, tried to slip from the man’s grasp, but he was too strong; he had thick, hard arms. He gathered Emil against his hot chest, his breath loud in his ear. ‘Stupid boy!’ he said, clasping him too tightly. ‘Stupid, idiot boy! Your father will skin you alive.’
    Then a couple of men were grabbing at him and heaving him up the bank. They lay him on the path on his back. Thomas’s face was above him. ‘What did you do? What did you do? You were floating away! We only just caught you.’ Thomas’s head, his thin chest, were dark against the bright sky.
    Emil coughed up some water and grinned. ‘Did you see me swim, Thomas? I swam. I swam so fast. You were running, I saw you, but you could not run as fast as I could swim.’

    One morning at last the sky was grey. Emil’s father was standing over the couch which served as the children’s bed, shaking his shoulder gently. Papa was smiling, and he had shaved. He smelled of soap and there were little circles of colour on his cheeks. ‘Big day for us, boy! School!’ In his hand was a book. He laid it gently on Emil’s chest. ‘It is the Brothers Grimm. Wonderful stories, liebling . You will read them all before long.’
    Emil picked it up; its paper cover was smooth. He looked at the letters on the cover, the lovely round symbols that meant nothing. Inside the book were pictures: a little girl in a cloak carrying a basket, two children in the dark forest.
    He loved this object instantly, its smell and corrugated pages, the smooth inked illustrations.
    His father reached into his jacket pocket, drew out a cone of sweets and laid it on top of the book.
    â€˜How did you get the money, Papa?’ Emil whispered.
    â€˜I’m a working man, don’t you remember?’
    â€˜But you haven’t started yet.’
    â€˜I start this very morning! Big day for both of us. I’ll walk you to school and then I begin. And when you come home for dinner your mother shall have ham on the table.’
    â€˜Can I come one day and watch you pour the metal into the mould?’
    â€˜Of course, when I have been there for a little while.’ Papa embraced him, his face smooth and soft where his beard had been before. He looked so naked and pink and young.
    From the kitchen came the smells of coffee and oats. The season changing seemed not such a bad thing with them all here