Espresso Tales by Alexander McCall Smith

attuned to the feelings of others, just as one could expect. It would be wonderful to be married to a man like that, rather than to a statistician in the Scottish Executive. She glanced down at Bertie, as if afraid that he might read her disloyal thoughts, and he looked up at her.
    â€œIt’s all right, Mummy,” he said quietly. “I know what you’re thinking.”

17. Down Among the Innocents
    Sitting at his new desk, with his name printed out in large letters in front of him, Bertie stared at his new classmates. There were fifteen of them, eight boys and seven girls, none of whom he knew. He at least had the advantage over them; he could read the names of all the others, whereas most of them could not. He looked at the placards: Luke, Marcus, Merlin, Tofu, Larch, Christoph, Hiawatha and Kim (boys); and Jocasta, Angel, Lakshmi, Skye, Pansy, Jade and Olive (girls).
    He looked in vain for Jock, the boy he had met at his interview and whom he wanted so much to be his friend, but there was no sign of him. So he had gone to Watson’s, Bertie concluded; it was just as I thought. Jock would be at Watson’s that very morning, playing rugby perhaps, rather than sitting in a circle with Tofu and the rest.
    There was a short talk from Miss Harmony, the teacher, a tall woman with an encouraging smile, who explained what fun going to school was. They would learn so much, she said, and enjoy themselves in the process. There would be music, too, and they would shortly start on the recorder.
    â€œIt’s like a whistle,” said the teacher. “You blow it and–
peep
–out comes some music. Such fun!”
    â€œAnd very well suited to early music,” said Bertie brightly.
    There was a silence, and the teacher spun round. “What was that, Bertie? Did you say something,
Liebling
?”
    â€œI said that the recorder is very well suited to playing Renaissance music,” he said. “Italian music, for example.
The Lamento di Tristan.
That sort of thing.”
    â€œShe said it goes
peep,
” said Tofu, looking accusingly at Bertie. “Or does it go
poop?
Hah!”
    All the children thought this was extremely funny, and laughed loudly. Tofu smiled modestly.
    The teacher sighed. “We don’t laugh at things like that,” she said softly. “We must learn that such things just aren’t funny. Tofu, darling, remember that we’re quite grown-up now. And you, Bertie, what an interesting thing to say. Can you play the recorder already?”
    â€œA bit,” said Bertie. “The fingering isn’t all that hard. It’s easier than playing the saxophone.”
    â€œSexophone?” said Tofu, smiling at the resultant giggles.
    The teacher glared at him. “Bertie said ‘saxophone’, Tofu. Perhaps you did not hear him correctly.” She turned to Bertie. “And do you play the saxophone, Bertie?”
    â€œYes,” said Bertie. “But I don’t have it with me.”
    â€œNo,” said the teacher. “So I see. Well, I’m sure that we shall all have the chance to hear you playing the saxophone some time soon. The saxophone, boys and girls, was invented by a man called Arthur Sax, a Frenchman. He made many beautiful brass instruments.”
    â€œAdolf Sax,” corrected Bertie politely. “And he was Belgian.”
    The teacher looked at Bertie, and then at Tofu, who had started to tickle the girl sitting next to him.
    â€œTofu, dear,” she said firmly. “Girls don’t like being tickled.”
    â€œOh don’t they?” said Tofu. “I know lots of girls who like being tickled. They like it a lot.”
    The teacher was silent. It was time for some diversion, she felt. She crossed the room to the cupboard and opened the door. The children watched closely as she took out a pile of old copies of the
Guardian
and handed a folded copy to each child.
    â€œNow you’ll know what this is,”