Opposite Sides (23 page)

“
It would
have been sooner but Jan Turner was giving her aunt a hard time.
Did you hear anything?”

“
No? I
thought Jan always did as she was told.” Robert snorted a laugh.
“What her aunt said, went,” he announced with
conviction.

“
Not lately.
She’s been a real little rebel. Had you noticed her hair was quite
a bit shorter?”

“
Not that I
saw. Why?”

“
The other
week she was caught with scissors in one hand a handful of hair in
the other. Her aunt was so furious. I think this time it was over
what she had on.” Hans laughed a little, a shaky uncertain kind of
laugh. “Last week Miss Turner went off her rocker because Jan had
coloured her lips.”

“
But my
sister wears make-up!” exclaimed Bertie. “And she’s the same
age.”

“
But she’s
not Miss Turner’s niece! I heard her say that only tarts . .
.”

Miss Turner suddenly
appeared on the patio. She clapped her hands loudly high in the air
like two shots from a pistol. All the student chatter ceased. Even
the birds went very quiet.

“
It looks as
though we’re in for a fine evening. I hope you enjoy yourselves.
Mary, bring over the gramophone. There. Put it on that table.” As
soon as the gramophone had been put down, Miss Turner addressed her
guests again. “You may play a little of your own music tonight. I
shall not mind. Just for this occasion.” A wave of subdued laughter
rippled over the walls. They laughed out of politeness and as no
sooner had the wave begun than it died into silence again. Miss
Turner turned to her right and beckoned Ellen forward. “Ellen, pass
the scone stand round. Janine you can look after the
tea.”

Jan pulled a disgruntled
face but made no comment. Tonight she had promised to
obey.

Early evening daylight
merged into a quiet lavender sky. The house and conservatory lights
were switched on. The courtyard was bathed in a soft, yellow glow
of the latest electric light bulbs. Mary remained standing beside
Miss Turner’s gramophone ready to wind it up whenever one of the
records was played. The music that came out of the trumpet was not
loud but able to be heard, as long as the talking was subdued. The
record only lasted a few minutes.

Hans was hoping to meet
Anne and catch up on her news. Rumours were rife that she and
Gerald were seriously going out together but he had not been able
to confirm any of it. This time, dress was not formal but the
standard was still to be ‘as one would expect’ for any young
gentleman or young lady. And then, Hans caught sight of Miss Anne
Sutherland as she stepped lightly through the open glass doors and
walked on to the red bricked patio.

Her dress was
stunning; a soft, lacy pink dress that flowed from her bare
shoulders to her hips in a cascade of small, pale-blue petalled
flowers until they reached her knee length skirt which was showing
at least half of her leg, far shorter than anything else being worn
that day. It was positively, outrageously modern. And to compliment
the picture of delight, Anne was wearing a hat with the same
pale-blue flowers on it as on the dress.
Yes
, he thought.
Anne certainly has style
.

Such sophistication.
Young men immediately flocked around her, drawn to her like moths
to a lantern. But this time Hans Resmel was not one of them. He
would wait until the moths had danced their dance and fallen
exhausted on the floor away from the glowing light. Gerald had not
arrived so there would be no competition from him.

“
Where’s
Mister Resmel, Ellen?” Miss Turner stopped her in her tracks as she
was taking a large plate of enticing nibbles over to one of the low
tables.

“
I have not
seen him these past ten minutes, Ma’am. Last time I think he was
talking with those boys.”

Ellen pointed out Robert
who had returned to his chair and was sipping out of a tall
glass.

“
He’s not
there now. Did he go back into the house?”

“
I think he
did.”

Miss Turner let out a
stifled grunt.

“
And Miss
Janine? Where has that girl got to?” Miss Turner helped herself to
a small coconut truffle from the plate. “I told her to pour the
tea. I do not think it is good for people to just drink the cold
drinks. Tea is a much more suitable beverage. Are you certain you
have not seen Janine?”

“
Sorry,
Ma’am.”

The plate began to
wobble. Ellen could not be expected to have stood holding it for
much longer yet Miss Turner was certain she had seen Hans ten,
maybe fifteen minutes ago. Now he did not seem to be anywhere in
the vicinity. Even though he was almost nineteen, she still felt he
was her responsibility. Hans Resmel and her niece, Janine Turner.
And they were both missing at the same time. Most
unusual.

Miss Turner was still
wondering whether Hans would join them when she caught sight of
someone in the distance, coming round the side of the house and
heading across the courtyard towards the conservatory where most of
the other students had now gathered. It was her niece. As Jan got
closer, Miss Turner managed to catch her by her flapping
sleeve.

“
Where have
you been, Janine?”

“
Nowhere. I
was just helping Mary with something.”

“
I see,” Miss
Turner replied. “And have you seen R . . .?” But she never
completed her question, for there was a figure in the distance who
was taking her interest. “Who is that over there?” She leaned her
head forward as though that would help her identify the unusual
figure.

“
It’s Resmel,
aunt.” Jan’s voice was flat, monotone and disinterested.

As the figure got closer,
Miss Turner noticed that it was, indeed, Hans Resmel and that he
was not dressed in his normal clothing. He had a bright green
waistcoat on and a white shirt with puffed out sleeves. He was also
wearing what looked like black heavy breeches and thick white
stockings that covered his knees. Perched on the top of his head
was a small grey felt hat with a small side feather stuck into into
its narrow band.

Well
,
no
matter
, was what she thought at this
moment
.
He could
be a strange boy when he wanted
.

She had already noted his
complete incomprehensible standing on cricket, even though he had
proved he could bowl a fast hand. Then, she had also witnessed
puzzlement on his face when the other boys stood in the school
grounds telling their boyish jokes and bending over in raucous
laughter as they blurted out the final punchlines. And, although
Hans Resmel had become friends with many of the boys, she had
noticed that he did not always join in with all of their
high-jinks. She had watched him on several occasions quietly moving
away from a group when the boys became rough as they jostled and
pushed each other around. He was not shy. Neither was he a loner.
Jan had told her aunt he did that because he did not feel all of
the boys had come to accept him on equal terms.

Miss Turner realised she
could not force him to conform to their ways. She had to let him be
different, if that was what he wanted. She remembered his first few
days: a stubborn, immature youngster, thrown into a hostile
community, pulled between love and hate and unable to cope with all
the pressures that had been put on him. But since he had joined one
of the cricket teams and had also been prepared to kick a soccer
ball around the college field, this young man now eighteen years
and nine months, had shown that he could be mature and grown up.
That was, until she saw him appear in this new outfit. He obviously
wanted to show he could still be independent and
individualistic.

The school
matron moved her eyes away from Hans Resmel and began to pay more
attention to her other young guests. What did the future hold for
all the young adults she had come to call
her
students? Were they really
growing up in a better, more responsible world? Had these
youngsters really learnt to bury the suspicions of the past that
had thrown the countries of Europe into a vicious conflict? Did
they now really live in a forgiving world or was the carefree
behaviour of the young merely a front for not being capable of
facing the reality of a world still messed up by inequality, new
suspicions and different hates? Seven years was not long for such
feelings to be put to bed. She wished the future would give them
the hope and answers to build a better world than their parents had
made.

Miss Turner
saw Anne approach Hans and the two began to converse. His
appearance did not faze that girl and even though Anne came from
one of the more privileged families in the district, never-the-less
she was the one who was always prepared to make that first advance
and speak to anyone, no matter how strange they might be. Anne
considered herself equal to any of her male companions was also
most willing to let them know it. Maybe that was because she had an
understanding father and a fortunate mother who had been one of Mrs
Pankhurst’s women.
Votes for Women
was still their cry and until every adult woman
could have equal voting rights alongside men, they were prepared to
show that they could be a fighting force to be reckoned with. Their
heroines were the likes of Emily Davidson who had been prepared to
sacrifice herself under the hooves of the king’s racehorse to
further the cause. And Anne was determined to prove that sacrifice
should not be in vain.

“
Hans, why
are you dressed up like that?” Anne whispered in his ear. She drew
his attention to a small group of onlookers. “Haven’t you noticed
the strange looks they have been giving you?” Anne held up the flat
of her hand to him, like a policeman on traffic duty.

“
Miss
Turner’s watching me very closely. I do not think she
approves.”

“
I’m not
talking about her,” Anne snapped. “It’s the boys I’m talking about
now. Have you noticed the looks they have been giving you? I
realise you want to make a point but is this the time and place to
do it?”

“
I don’t
think that should worry you, especially when I hear of you
campaigning with your mother. I saw you the other day when the
women marched down the main street. And I noticed how others tried
to block your way. They did not approve of what you were
doing!”

Anne laughed scoffingly.
She sat herself down with determination on the edge of the bench
seat.

“
That is
politics! I’m talking about social convention and how you dress
where Miss Turner can see.”

“
I wear these
because today because it is my convention to wear something
different. Besides, how I choose to dress should not interest Miss
Turner.” He plonked himself down heavily on the bench beside
her.

“
Well, I wish
you’d be more conventional, then. Like them. Over there,” Anne
whispered to him in a lower voice. “Don’t you think they look
perfect in their polos and trousers?” Hans nodded but he did not
see what that really had to do with him. Anne continued, “So, why
couldn’t you have worn those?”

Suddenly, Hans jumped up
as if he had been stung.

“
I’m not like
them!” He sounded very sure of himself. Then, he added with a
cheeky grin, “They arrived in a parcel. And not from Uncle Karl
this time. I think it was Heidi’s idea to remind me I grew up in
Austria.”

“
Whatever or
whoever you think you are doesn’t interest me at the moment.” Anne
was restless. Her body language indicated she was ready to leave.
Hans laughed awkwardly. He held out his hand so that Anne could
easily stand up. “I can manage perfectly, Hans. We women can, you
know.”

“
I know you
can, Anne,” he replied dryly. “Let’s not argue the
point.”

“
It does not
bother me. I was only going to say . . .”

Hans had been suddenly
amused by the way Jan Turner had almost tripped over as she turned
her head around like a duck about to roost, watching him intently
and at the same time as she was trying to negotiate the patio
steps. She had been giving him puzzling looks as if she had never
seen him before. He could not work it out. He inclined his head in
Jan’s direction and made winding gestures each side of his
head.

“
Something is
bothering her.”

“
You’re
wicked, Hans Resmel. You shouldn’t do things to annoy
Jan.”

“
Miss Turner
keeps telling me how I should be more like a brother to her and
isn’t that what brothers do, annoy you?”

“
That’s not
right. Have you had another letter from your brother?” she asked
remembering what Hans had told her about Renard.

“
Yes,” he
answered firmly pressing his lips together and clenching his teeth.
“Renard has annoyed me again but that’s not unusual. And now with
Heidi having gone, I don’t know where I want to be: here or
there!”

“
No-one here
to keep you?” She laughed at him in a wicked way and tossed her
head like a filly in heat.

“
I’d have a
fight on my hands if I were to stay here and say it was because of
you. Oh, you’re so attractive, Anne. We all think you are: Dicky,
Robert, Loppy, Bertie, Gerald. We’re all madly in love with
you.”