The Longest Winter (41 page)

‘Signorina?’ said Carl in polite enquiry.

‘Oh, Major Korvacs,’ she whispered. She struggled desperately for control. She did not know how to meet his eyes. ‘Oh, I’m so glad you’re alive, I—’

‘My condition has been officially described as very good.’

‘Oh, I am so ashamed.’ Her eyes begged her desire to lay despairing family remorse at his feet. ‘I am so terribly ashamed.’

‘Please. Sit down,’ said Carl.

She was emotionally grateful for the bedside chair. Her self-control was dangerously frail. She plucked at her gloves, her head bent, and she fought the rush of bitter tears.

‘Oh, but it’s a miracle, isn’t it?’ she gasped.

‘That I’m still alive? Well, it’s a great relief, Pia.’

Pia? He was calling her Pia? She darted a bewildered glance at him. He did not seem grim or accusing. Only curious. But he was pale under his tan.

‘I am so unhappy, so dreadfully sorry,’ she whispered, ‘please forgive us. No, it isn’t possible for you to forgive us – but you are alive, that is a wonderful answer to our prayers. I thought, we thought— Oh, Major Korvacs, it was so terrible—’

‘You’re not going to cry, I hope,’ said Carl.

‘I have been crying all night, all day,’ she said, her head bent again, her hands feverish in her lap.

‘You can stop now. Visitors are supposed to bring smiles, not tears.’ He did not want to make the issue emotional.

‘Major Korvacs—’ She swallowed. She could not stop shivering. The tears were perilously close, even though she had wept so many. It had been unbearable at home, with Mariella asking questions and her mother racked with despair. ‘Oh, believe me, I am truly glad—’

‘You’ve said that.’ Carl was laconic. ‘Where’s your patriotic father?’

‘He has gone.’ Anguish besieged her. It was a terrible effort to talk about her father. ‘He went soon after.’

‘Not before time,’ said Carl.

‘Major Korvacs—’

‘I meant to boot him out of the house.
Didn’t he realize he was involving his whole family?’

‘That was what my mother said, that you would just make him go.’ Pia looked desolate. ‘But he was so sure of himself. Oh, I’ve been so wrong, so silly.’

‘So have I in my time. What happened after the – ah – accident?’

She told him. She held nothing back, except how she had kept him warm, kissed his lips, breathed her life into his. She had explained to the Austrian patrol that she was worried because he had not returned to the house, not even by one in the morning, that she went looking for him and heard the shots. She told them she did not see who had fired them.

‘You see, he was still my father,’ she said. ‘But I thought afterwards that you would naturally tell the true story.’

‘I haven’t recovered yet,’ said Carl, ‘so I’ve said nothing so far. You’re very frank, Pia.’

‘I am ashamed.’ she whispered, ‘I shall always be ashamed. Oh, you will get better, won’t you?’

‘I am better,’ said Carl, ‘even if not quite recovered. I realize now why you didn’t want me in your house, why your maid was so nervous of Corporal Jaafe being around. Your father was living in the attic, of course. Food had to be supplied to him, things taken up and down.’

‘Yes,’ she said, pulling at her gloves again, ‘but, please, you are not going to do anything to Maria?’

‘Never mind Maria. Your father was there that
day when you showed me round the house?’

‘Yes, but well prepared. We knew you would be coming. He was in the attic, yes, but safely hidden, in case you had made a search instead of just an inspection.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Major Korvacs, your wounds, are they bad, are you in pain?’

‘Thank you, no,’ he said politely. He felt fairly comfortable. The tenderness seemed to have moved to his ribs. ‘You went up to your father that night?’

‘Yes.’

‘That was what woke me, the creaking floorboards. They gave us both away.’ Carl’s look was direct, Pia’s eyes averted. ‘Were they kept purposely loose?’

‘Yes,’ she confessed, ‘some on the stairs too. You have to walk well to the left. I forgot to that night, I wasn’t thinking. My father had been getting restless with you in the house.’ She shivered, unable to shut out that night. ‘My mother, oh, she is so distressed and unhappy, even though she’s so thankful to know you’re alive.’

‘Yes,’ said Carl. He did not feel any need for useless recriminations. It was enough to know that this unhappy girl had stayed with him instead of leaving him to die. ‘Tell your mother I’m too deep into the real war to worry about the one your father is fighting. If he’s gone off to wage more politics, let him. He’s only one of thousands who turn life upside down for the rest of us on the pretext that it’s good for us. But it isn’t patriots or politicians who bestow the
worthwhile benefits on mankind, it’s doctors, scientists, chemists, inventors and others like them. I accept the solution, Pia. I was shot in the street. By someone I didn’t recognize. I know now what to say to questions from Headquarters.’

Pia was palely disbelieving.

‘Major Korvacs?’ she said huskily. Despite her relief at his escape from death, her despair at what had happened had been laying its dark hands on her every thought.

‘You must stick to what you’ve said and leave it at that,’ said Carl. ‘I don’t want to be bothered indefinitely by inquisitive people from Headquarters. Has anyone been to see you?’

‘Yes, they asked questions and looked around. They were stern but not unkind. I told them what I told the patrol and they seemed to think that because I was with you when the patrol arrived it counted in my favour.’

‘Oh, we Austrians would rather be gallant than suspicious,’ said Carl.

Pia, bemused by what seemed so hard to believe, said hesitantly, ‘Major Korvacs, what do you mean when you say we must leave it at that?’

‘I mean you must say nothing about your father, you must stand by what you’ve already told the authorities, that you came out looking for me, that you found me.’

Pia’s eyes suffused.

‘You mean you forgive us?’ she said huskily. ‘You are not going to report my father?’

Carl felt a tightness arrive in his chest because he was talking so much, but he wished to put
this girl and her mother out of their distress and worry.

‘I’m not concerned with your father,’ he said, ‘only his family. You’re not responsible for him, neither you nor your mother. All I want to do is survive this war, not take on the extra problem of worrying about hot-blooded Italian separatists. We’ll forget what happened. How will that do?’

The warmth that invaded her cold body was borne along on a sea of hot, rushing tears.

‘I— oh, I don’t know what to say,’ she whispered.

‘You can say whatever you like as long as you leave the wonders of Italy out of it. If you wish to enjoy your fractious politics, Pia Amaraldi, then do so. Politics make some people very happy. They only make me feel sorry for the world. But you are young, burning, idealistic. Perhaps I envy you your enthusiasms, your future. I don’t know. I think you should prepare yourself for disappointments as well as rapture. You may find an Italian government just as difficult to tolerate as an Austrian one. What’s the matter?’

Pia was sobbing, her face buried in her hands. The two shots fired at Carl had shattered her. Her beliefs were in doubt, her faith in her father gone. Her burning desire to see an Austrian defeat and an Italian victory had been suffocated by anguish. Her pride was broken and Carl’s cynicism was crucifying her.

‘Oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ she sobbed.

‘Stop crying,’ said Carl, but not unkindly. ‘All
I’m telling you is that you won’t always be young and burning.’

‘Oh, that isn’t important. It’s you—my father—I didn’t know he meant to do that. Please believe me. I didn’t even know he had taken his gun out—’

‘You must forget all that,’ said Carl, ‘didn’t you understand me?’

‘How can I forget?’ Pia’s sobs racked her. ‘You will get better, you will come and stay with us again, won’t you? No, how could you do that? You could never come to our house again, not after what my father did. Oh, my mother is so unhappy.’

‘Tell her not to be.’ Carl watched her dabbing at her eyes and nose. She was a young woman of ideals who had been shocked by a moment of violent reality. Patriots who threw bombs or fired guns were heroes from afar to those who supported them. It did not look quite so heroic close to. But she was resilient, she would get over it. When Austria finally crumbled she would be out on the streets with other Trentino Italians, waving her flag. But her distress touched him. He said, ‘Would you like to play some chess? I’m not supposed to do much talking. Or lecturing. But chess is for thinking. Do you have time to stay for a game? Or a few moves? It would be better than crying, Pia.’

‘Chess?’ Pia’s tears reached their moist end. ‘Oh, Major Korvacs, does that mean you’ve forgiven us, that when you are better you will come to our house again? It has been so terrible
for my mother, and Mariella hasn’t been able to understand. We could not tell her, could we?’

‘I thought we had settled all this,’ said Carl. ‘Now look here, tell your mother that when I come to see her I’ll talk to her about Austria, about Vienna. But not about Italy. Or the war. Or your father. Do you understand?’

‘Yes,’ breathed Pia in emotional gratitude and love. ‘Oh, thank you. I’ll see the nurse about a chess set.’

‘There’s a set over there.’

She brought it and laid it out on the bed table. The nurse came in.

‘It’s time, fräulein,’ she said.

‘Be an angel,’ said Carl, ‘let her stay a while longer for some chess.’

‘Very well, you may play a little chess, then,’ said the nurse and left them to it. Pia was so out of all her senses with relief and happiness that quite genuinely her opening moves were as scatterbrained as a child’s. Carl was on to the nonsense.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

‘I’m trying my best,’ she said, ‘but I have had rather a bad time lately and I’m not quite myself yet. In any case, I just like to play, I don’t care all that much about winning.’

‘It’s no help to me if you don’t put me on my mettle, Pia.’

‘But you have had a bad time too, much worse than I have.’

‘I’m not a cripple,’ said Carl and made a very decisive move.

‘Even so,’ said Pia, ‘we should just play for fun.’ And she made a countering move that was a deep, threatening challenge.

‘God in heaven, that’s fun?’ muttered Carl.

They called it a draw twenty minutes later. Pia realized he was tired, he had lines around his mouth. She tried to say goodbye as calmly as she could. But it took her an effort to say, as she reached the door, ‘May I come tomorrow?’

‘You’ll find it very boring,’ said Carl.

‘Please, may I come, may I come each day?’

‘Of course,’ said Carl.

Pia almost flew in her haste to get home. She had been existing in a state of despair. Now, suddenly, she was reprieved, the whole family was reprieved. Her mother had been a figure of tragic self-torment. It was like coming out of darkness into light to be able to fly home and tell her that Major Korvacs was better, was going to recover, had received her and been so kind, so generous. He had even wanted to play chess with her. And when he was out of hospital he was going to call on them. And oh, Mama, what do you think? Nothing was to be said about Papa. Major Korvacs wanted it all forgotten. He was going to say an unknown person shot him in the street.

It brought her mother out of shame and despair.

‘We’ll do as Major Korvacs says, Pia, we’ll do everything he says. I think I’m glad for him in one way now. He won’t have to fight again. By
the time he’s recovered the war will be over and they’ll send him home to Vienna to convalesce, if they have enough sense and compassion.’

Vienna? Pia’s divided loyalties were torturing her now, and it did not make her any happier to realize that if he returned to Vienna she would never see Carl again. Her relief at his recovery was intense, so was her gratitude for his generosity, but her animation died.

She took Mariella to the hospital the next day. Her sister had begged that she might go. She had been told that Major Korvacs had been seriously wounded. She accepted that unquestioningly. Ambulances were commonplace in Oberstein. But she had not been told until yesterday and she had been full of questions until then.

An Austrian colonel was leaving Carl’s room as Pia and Mariella arrived. He looked searchingly at Pia. Her heart had an uneasy moment.

Mariella was excited but shy. Carl was propped up on heaped pillows. He smiled to see her. Pia thought he looked drawn. Mariella was bright in a green coat and knitted hat. Pia was in dark red, a colour that defied the brooding clouds of winter. Her fur hat was glossily black. She was nervous again, still haunted by her father’s deed, and the glance she gave Carl asked anxiously for reassurance. But Carl was smiling at Mariella.

‘Oh, I hope you don’t mind,’ said Pia, ‘but she so wanted to come and she will only stay a little while, I promise.’

‘Good afternoon, little sister,’ said Carl.

‘I am happy to see you,’ said Mariella with the grave courtesy of the young. ‘You have been in the war again.’

‘Carelessly so,’ said Carl, ‘I should have kept out of the way.’

‘Soldiers can’t keep out of the way,’ said Mariella, a little proud for him.

‘Ah, there you are, my sweet friend,’ smiled Carl, ‘that’s war for you. How are your tonsils?’

‘Oh, they are famously better,’ said Mariella.

‘Open your mouth,’ said Carl. Solemnly she opened it, bending so that he could observe her healthy, yawning gap. ‘Mmm, yes,’ said Carl, ‘now close your eyes.’ Mariella closed them. He popped a boiled sweet into her mouth, a luxury which had come to him by way of a shared Red Cross parcel. Mariella blinked, savoured the sweet and smiled in delight. She kissed Carl on the cheek. Pia envied her sister the simplicity of unprejudiced youth. Mariella was already strong-willed enough to resist either deliberate or environmental indoctrination. Her likes and dislikes were founded on her natural instincts, not on lectures, harangues and overheard conversations.

‘Tell Pia that if she’s going to stay a while she may sit down,’ said Carl.