The Book of Emmett by Deborah Forster Page A

rain but occasionally the sun shoots through the clouds like a cannonball.
    While she’s excited, Louisa isn’t feeling optimistic about the ballet. Rob will mess this up, she thinks solidly, the habit of gloom already long ingrained.
    Emmett continues the lecture. ‘Now this Rudolf Nureyev bloke we are going to see, and old Mrs Fonteyn too, they are very special. Rob, pay particular attention to the leaps, they’re as good as anything you’ll see down at the football ground. Don’t be put off by the tights son, that is not important.
    â€˜This is about the blending of music and the human body. This is an art. Right, we’re off at the next stop,’ he says, and bounds to his feet and pushes the door open before the train has fully stopped. The wind whips his hair about and his coat-flaps stream and he’s riding into the station like a valkyrie.
    In the city Emmett strides along the wet street with the children nearly running to keep up. Rob does try to trip Louisa at one point (he deliberately stands on her loose shoelace and she knows it was deliberate because he laughs) and she staggers forward and grabs Emmett’s coat but he isn’t mad, he flicks a small smile at her.
    Louisa considers kicking Rob but common sense gets the better of her. Rob smirks. By the time they get to the theatre, excitement is pulsing through the puffing, sweaty children.
    Emmett strides over to the ticket box to buy the tickets. The kids perch on a round red buttoned seat in the foyer, eyes swallowing the magic of the place. People cluster and chat, laugh and gossip and the kids are entranced.
    It soon becomes clear, however, that something is wrong. Here comes that underwater moment when you begin to drown and your legs work like engines but can’t save you. No matter how hard they try to pretend that everything is all right, it isn’t. Something right here in this shining theatre is going all wrong. Emmett is taking too long and the kids know with sickly sinking hearts that there’s a major stuff-up underway and when he strides back to them his face is a thunder cloud.
    â€˜I’m short by two quid,’ he says curtly, quietly, and it dawns on the kids that he doesn’t have enough money to buy the tickets. Isn’t it always the case? Money holds the keys to the game.
    â€˜Could you sell your wallet Dad, since it’s empty?’ Rob ventures helpfully.
    Emmett looks at him as if he might snap him in half, and then he withdraws his eyes from the boy and says wearily, ‘Shut up Robert,’ and slumps on the round seat. He leans his head back and closes his eyes. His grey face sags.
    The kids look at each other warily. They have not often encountered a defeated Emmett. Usually he shields himself from the reality of defeat with anger. This is very bad, they think simultaneously. Will there be an explosion? In public? Right here? They look around like mice in a room full of cats.
    In a while, when most of the well-heeled have drifted into the theatre, Emmett gets up and the kids follow a few steps behind, heads down, shuffling like Japanese ladies. Emmett decides he’ll at least buy them some Fantales, and standing in front of the lolly counter, he feels around for his wallet.
    Then for some reason he pushes his hand into the inner breast pocket of his coat and amazingly, he pulls out a ten-pound note. He holds up the money as if it were a miracle from God, which it possibly is, and he laughs and whoops and roars, ‘By God, the Browns are going to the bloody ballet!’
    He buys the tickets and the Fantales and they go inside, only a little bit late, to watch Nureyev and Fonteyn fly across the stage like angels.
    On the train home Emmett can see old Rudolf as a very plausible full forward for North and he and Rob rave about this for a while. Emmett doesn’t tell them the music made him weep because he thinks this is beyond the pale. But Louisa saw him wiping