Free Out of Tune by Margaret Helfgott Page B

with us and sometimes they would cuddle when we children
     went off to play. Nearby were the docks where the big ships came in from abroad. We would scurry down there whenever we saw
     a boat come in. These foreign ships and their crews seemed terribly exotic to us, and we played all kinds of games, dreaming
     up tales of pirates and fortune hunters. David and I, being the eldest children, would sometimes think about Europe and the
     ships that our parents had arrived on. We were already old enough to know the fate of those who hadn’t made it to Australia—“the
     lucky country” as it is fondly known by its grateful peoples. These otherwise happy childhood moments were tinged with sadness
     when we thought of our parents’ families and the others who didn’t make it.
    Another place we used to frequent on family outings was Hyde Park, near our home in Highgate. This was a beautiful place,
     with manicured lawns and gardens and plenty of benches on which to sit and gaze at the peaceful surroundings. Often on weekends
     we went there to feed the ducks and swans and stroll around the tranquil lake. Sometimes we also went to King’s Park, an area
     of untouched bush land that Perth’s nineteenth-century founders had deliberately preserved in the center of the city. King’s
     Park overlooks the Swan River and is very close to the University of Western Australia. We used to run around amid the gum
     trees and wildflowers there and take in the magnificent panoramic views.
    School naturally played a big part in our lives. In Perth we first went to Highgate State school. Later, when we moved to
     a working-class area some distance away called Maniana, David and I went to Queen’s Park, which was a fairly poor school with
     many aboriginal children. When we moved back to Highgate, we split up—I studied at Mt. Lawley High School and David went to
     Forrest High School for Boys.
    Romance did not play a large part in David’s teenage life. Immersed in music, he didn’t seem to be very interested in girls.
     During the entire period before he left for London at the age of nineteen, I don’t recall him going out on a single date—although
     there was no shortage of female music students who developed crushes on him after hearing the magic he produced at the piano.
    I, on the other hand, had reached an age where I wanted to go out with boys. Clothes were always a problem, though. I was
     quite adept at thinking up all kinds of ways of renovating old clothes so that they would look a little different. I would
     sew braids on them or embroider them with beads and sequins to give them a fresh burst of life. For instance, I removed some
     brightly colored buttons from an old cardigan and sewed them on a skirt to create the sort of effect I imagined Gypsies might
     make.
    In the early days in Perth we went to the synagogue fairly regularly, and some members of the Jewish community used to offer
     us second-hand clothes. Although my father abhorred charity, he did not like to be rude, so he accepted their gifts. I was
     once given a lovely dress from one of these handouts, and wore it to synagogue for Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. When
     a girl came up to me and said, “Oh, I used to have a dress just like that,” I felt mortified. I could have sunk through the
     floor. I quickly made up a not particularly credible story about my parents having just bought me the dress from some shop.
     I wanted to save myself from the shame of receiving handouts. It was only many years later that I realized that charity could
     be a good thing. Indeed, Judaism dictates that one should give 10 percent of one’s income to the less fortunate. At the time,
     however, I merely felt like a victim of poverty, and this was a terrible source of embarrassment.
    Despite my discomfort about my clothes, I went out on my first date when I was sixteen. I was asked out by a very handsome
     boy, who was three years older than me. He took me to a drive-in