Chapter 1 - Summer in Mannheim

It was warm that summer.

Warmer than usual.

The air was thick with unshed rain, there was no way to escape it. The heat clung to everything, it made you weary. The ladies hid inside, the men sighed – sweat running down from their brows, their collars seeming to close in, ever tighter as the sun rose.

If only for a breeze, or a summer storm, to free us from the slow suffocation of summer in Mannheim!

It was early still and I lay in bed, ill from the heat, unable to dress for I could not bear the torture of a gown – not today! As I stared up at the ceiling, plaster cracking, their spidery fingers reaching out across the surface, I prayed for some relief. Perhaps if I simply lay here, I will be transported away.

My mother clattered around downstairs, baking, washing, tidying – there must be another boarder coming in. Maybe they will be someone exotic, from a far away land. Maybe he will be handsome? Perhaps he will be mysterious? One can only hope!

Our last guest, if he may be called, was a repulsive man. Round, red cheeked and brash. The sight of him at our family table, clutching his fork like a child – spewing bits of his meal as he spoke – lord, give me strength! He kissed my hand as he left, as if to apologize for his nature, I shudder at the memory.

My mother tisked, I should only hope to wed such an entrepreneur she said. He would ensure a comfortable life. Isn't that what it is all about? Isn't that all there is to hope for?

Comfortable.

How I wish papa were still well, that our family was whole. Mama is surely stressed, there is simply too much to do! Three girls, ready to be wed – how can she help us to find suitable husbands if she is constantly fighting to make ends meet?

I hummed to myself, dreaming of wintery scenes, what a delight it would be to travel back! The gentle tin, tin, tin of carriages carting families through the snow – parties, oh how I love parties! Feasts, song and good company. Papa would delight in song, he would call for carols and lied, which my sisters and I lovingly chortled for family and friends. Alyosia, he'd say, one day you will be a great star of the stage!

It could have been my daydreaming, or perhaps it was real – there, as I lay, I began to hear the faint sounds of carriages. The rhythmic jingles, at first sounding distant, they began to grow louder.

I sat up and squinted through the lace curtains.

There!

A carriage coming up the lane!

Alyosia! mama called, her voice faint through the floor boards

Girls – dress quickly, our guest is arriving!

It took the better part of an hour before I was downstairs, fit for guests. I hoped that our next guest would come and go quietly, without causing any grief for the rest of us.

As I came to the top of the stairs, there he was.

A boy

Wolfgang! Papa exclaimed with a large grin as the door opened. Papa stood, beaming in the doorway as the boy struggled with his luggage.

He was alone? Where was his father? I wondered silently. What a fantastic man my uncle. Educated, modest and talented. Uncle Leopold was a respected man, a scholar and had even published a book. A far cry from my quaint upbringing in this rooming lodge. How I envied the Mozarts, their own father at the helm of their musical tutelage, what a gift. What one could accomplish with such an experience.

And cousin Nannerl, such a darling girl – and a talented pianist herself, what a shame to live under the shadows of the trained pet.

I have not laid eyes on you since you were a young boy, how you have grown! And your beautiful mother, I hope she is well?

He blushed, his lashes fluttering downwards – how feminine, un jeune homme I thought to myself.

He struggled with some bags, a case perhaps? A violinist – of course. Coming to Mannheim to make his fortune…I suppose the tokens he had collected across Europe as a small child had finally dried up. His father had clearly sent him out to find his own way.

Yes sir, she sends her best wishes of course. He gently deposited the violin on the floor and smoothed out the edges of his jacket preparing to shake hands, though Papa seemed to dismiss the cue.

I truly appreciate this offer sir, I am forever in your debt to allow me to stay with your family while I search for opportunities here in town.

Never mind the formalities child, come, come! Meet my darling daughters, as I am sure they look quite different than the last time you were here!

Papa laughed, Constanze and I shared a brief glance.

Being the eldest in the room, I was presented first. Papa nudged me gently.

The young man stepped close enough for me to see his impish little grin, and his unwashed, tussled hair. When I extended my hand, we were scantly eye to eye – Herr Mozart, I knelt gently, welcome.

This, my boy, is Alyosia. Papa grinned, obviously taking much joy in this awkward reintroduction.

I felt his hand take mine.

Soft and fine – not unlike that of a woman. Cool to the touch. How odd I thought, no callouses, obviously he had never witnessed a hard day's work.

As I lifted my gaze, our eyes met.

My breath ceased, I was seemingly frozen by his gaze.

The blue orbs were mesmerizingly deep, an ocean of soul. What did I see there? A flash of sadness ?
He quickly pulled away and turned to my papa for the next introduction.

Constanze, and of course – young miss Sophie.

He smiled sweetly, taking each hand Enchante

He was young. He was thin. A sickly child, turned man. Hardly any different than the young boy who visited many years ago, playing little tunes on our keyboard while his father proudly boasted about his outlandish talents. So much talent that here he is, struggling to find a place for himself in the world – out from under the watchful eye of his father. He won't last here in Mannheim, I'm sure of it. Perhaps a small rural town such as Salzburg could be wooed by his musical stunts, but an artistic mecca such as this city, surely the critics will not easily be impressed.

If the letters from uncle are true, then the young Mozart has come to find work as a composer – though it won't be as easy as that.