The Longest Winter (6 page)

Kirsti reacted with a perceptible withdrawal of warm bosom from manly chest.

‘You don’t mean me, do you?’ she said.

‘You’re a delicious young thing,’ said James, ‘but no.’

‘Thank goodness,’ said Kirsti, re-engaging, ‘I thought it wasn’t going to be fun any more.’

He looked at Marie’s essay again the next morning. It was a bright piece about her home and family on a particular day, what she did, what they did, and what was said. Rosa was mentioned. And Boris.

‘
In the afternoon I walked home from school with Rosa and Boris. Rosa comes to meet me sometimes
and then she meets Boris too. Rosa held my hand and Boris held Rosa’s hand. Sometimes they whispered and sometimes he made her laugh and push him. My brother Louis ran out to meet us and fell over and hurt his hand. He is too big to cry now so he just got up and asked me to come and look at his new toy soldiers
.’

That was all there was about Rosa and Boris. The paragraph was in the middle of the essay.

That last line still made no sense.

But it worried him a little and he began to wonder about Boris Ferenac.

‘Is the son of the redoubtable Sir William with us again?’ asked Sophie.

‘James? He’s with Carl, in the stables,’ said Anne. ‘It’s all to do with the Benz and nothing to do with us. He doesn’t seem to realize how eligible we both are. Myself, I’m very eligible.’

‘I know, darling.’ Sophie smiled. ‘And you’re keeping scores of suitors on tenterhooks.’

‘I’m really only keeping them attentive. One is only young once. And I shan’t marry until I fall madly in love.’

‘There’s Ludwig,’ said Sophie, ‘I’m sure he’s excessively keen on you.’

‘Sophie, he’s quite excessively attached to you.’

‘He’s a dear boy,’ said Sophie, ‘and much the age for you, darling.’

‘Of course, James is very adult,’ said Anne, regarding the bright sweep of the gardens.

‘Oh, how did James creep in?’ smiled Sophie.

‘Well, he is very provoking,’ said Anne, ‘always coming to see Carl and having so little to do with us.’

‘Oh, the devious fellow,’ said Sophie.

‘Devious?’

‘Certainly. A young lady ignored is a young lady susceptible. He is out to catch you, my sweet.’

‘Or you?’ said Anne and laughed.

The baroness entered the drawing room.

‘Ludwig and Helene are here,’ she said. ‘Ludwig has gone to the stables and Helene is waiting for you to receive her, Anne.’

‘Yes, we’re all to go driving in the Benz,’ said Anne.

‘That is news to me,’ said Sophie.

‘Well, it’s all arranged,’ said Anne, ‘and you must come or we shall be odd.’

‘I shall save you from that terrible fate,’ said Sophie.

The carriages were out of the stables. In their place stood the gleaming Benz. The bonnet was up. Immersed in the mechanical functionalism were Carl and Ludwig. Sitting on a pair of steps, overlooking the amateurs, was James in his light grey suit with a striped shirt and grey tie. The stables smelt of horses, straw and linseed oil. From their stall on the far side the horses chewed hay and blinked suspiciously at the monster threatening their purpose in life.

‘No,’ said James, ‘use the plug spanner, Carl.’

‘Ah, you’ve caught me there,’ said Carl.

That was how it was. Carl was learning the mechanics under James’s supervision. Carl did not want to merely drive the Benz, he wanted to understand it, to comprehend the fundamentals, to know what to look for if anything went wrong and what to do to put the fault right. He had telephoned James two days after taking delivery, complaining about a stiffness in the gears. James thought he should have contacted the dealers but did not say so. He came round. He came again, several times. Now it was an involvement and a friendship, something that took up his time out of school hours. It also included teaching Carl how to drive. Carl wished to be a fully orientated owner-driver. It would help him to be father and mother to the Benz. His interest in it was such that he was as happy tinkering with it as driving it. James indulged one eccentricity of his own. If Carl ran the engine in the stables James went outside to escape the noise.

‘I must say,’ said Carl once, ‘that considering you don’t really care for autos it’s damned decent of you to bother about the Benz.’

James bothered for a reason that had little to do with the Benz. He sat on the steps now, watching the bent heads of Carl and Ludwig. Ludwig realized he could learn a few things himself.

‘Well, really.’ It was Anne’s voice. She stood at the wide entrance to the stables, the sun behind her. With her was Ludwig’s sister, Helene, a fair but not entirely brilliant young lady. Sophie thought her a little giggly, the baroness thought her a little flighty. She was rather keen on Carl,
but Carl, while as cheerfully disposed towards her as all girls, hardly thought about her at all. ‘Carl, you’re utterly fiendish,’ said Anne.

‘Oh?’ said Carl from the mechanical deeps.

‘Oh? Oh? Come out from there,’ called Anne, ‘you promised to take us all out. We’ve been waiting ages already. James, is that you up on high?’

‘Ladies,’ said James and bowed from his perch. Anne was good to look at. In her favourite blue she was as colourful as summer itself. Helene Lundt-Hausen looked a little insipid beside her. Helene was white-skinned, pretty. Anne was warm, lovely.

‘James,’ said Anne, ‘as you’re the king of all you survey, kindly command your subjects to rise up and sally forth, for there are beautiful maidens impatiently awaiting them.’

‘That’s almost a proclamation,’ said James.

‘Beautiful maidens?’ Carl lifted his head. ‘Where are they? Do you see any, Ludwig?’

‘Isn’t he hideously hopeless to have as a brother?’ said Anne to Helene.

‘Well, he is rather naughty sometimes,’ said Helene. ‘You are, aren’t you, Carl? Are you going to be awfully sweet now and take us driving?’

James winced. Helene’s conversation never reached celestial heights. At the best it was as coy as her archly pouting bosom.

‘Just give us five more minutes,’ said Carl.

‘No,’ said Anne, ‘it’s either now or never. James, order them.’

‘Gentlemen,’ said James, comfortably on the fence, ‘I order you.’

‘We’re filthy,’ said Ludwig. He and Carl were both in rolled-up shirtsleeves and their hands were black.

‘Oh, you beasts,’ said Anne, ‘now you’re going to spend hours scrubbing yourselves. Carl, Sophie said if you don’t bring the Benz round to the house in two minutes she’s coming to smash it to pieces with a hammer.’

‘Dear Sophie,’ said Carl. He and Ludwig began to wash their hands under a cold, running tap, using a large bar of yellow soap.

‘James, don’t just sit there, please,’ said Anne, ‘you can bring the Benz round. You are accompanying us, you know, we don’t want to be odd. So please come down, or
you’ll
get smashed to pieces with a hammer.’

‘Whatever you say,’ said James, climbing down.

They were all ready in the end. Carl offered to drive. So did Ludwig.

‘James, I think,’ said Sophie.

‘Yes, he is the master engineer,’ said Anne.

‘Thank you,’ said James, ‘but I’m really a horse-and-cart man.’

‘James, we command you,’ said Sophie.

So James took the wheel. Anne sat up in front with him and Carl, Sophie and Helene on the high rear seat with Ludwig. They sailed smoothly through the gates and into the Salesianergasse.

‘James, the other way!’ screamed Anne as he turned left.

‘What other way? I haven’t been told,’ said James as he adjusted the course of the car. The day was full of changing shades of light, clouds
scudding across the blue sky and under the sun, Vienna looking alternately soft and bright. The traffic was a mixture of trotting carriages, scurrying fiacres and portly automobiles. It was Saturday afternoon and the city was preparing for a gay evening.

‘Oh, do let’s go to Demel’s,’ cried Helene.

‘I’ve been there,’ said James.

‘To Demel’s, James, please,’ said Anne, ‘I should like a big fat cream pastry.’

‘I can’t believe that,’ said James. He slowed to a stop to allow two ladies to cross the road. They smiled their thanks. He lifted his grey, black-banded hat to them.

‘You’re very considerate,’ said Anne.

‘Ludwig,’ said Sophie, ‘is your Bugatti better, is it recovering?’

‘In a day or two,’ said Ludwig, ‘it will be out and about again.’

‘Yes,’ said Helene, giggling, ‘and then you can ask James to teach you how to drive it.’

‘That,’ said Carl, who knew all about the mishap, ‘is a blow beneath the belt.’

James turned right, making for the Kohlmarket. He took off his hat and Anne placed it on her lap for him. His thick hair blew in the wind. Helene began to hum a song. Ludwig, looking at Anne’s back, thought what a nice neck she had. James passed ambling vehicles. He drove smoothly, economically, and Carl watched his manipulation of gears with interest.

‘This is quite lovely,’ said Anne, enjoying the changing patterns of traffic and pavements.

‘I seriously prefer a horse and cart,’ said James.

‘You’re a reactionary,’ said Ludwig.

Helene said, ‘Is that the same as—’

‘No,’ said Sophie, leaving Helene puzzled as to how Sophie knew she was going to say revolutionary. ‘James,’ Sophie went on, ‘horses and carts are for vegetables. We shouldn’t want you to become just another cabbage.’

‘I don’t think James will ever be as green as that,’ said Carl.

The Benz purred. Carl felt proud. The thoroughfares were busy, the traffic containing a fair proportion of automobiles. The Benz outshone its rivals. James, however, was more aware of the fumes, fuss and bullying look of the motor traffic. He said something inaudible.

‘I didn’t catch that, James,’ said Sophie, wondering a little why she had consented to career around Vienna when it was just the afternoon for composing poetry in the garden.

‘It’s absolute sacrilege,’ said James in English. He frequently broke into English when the most suitable German words eluded him, but all the von Korvacs understood the language and so did Ludwig. ‘Look at it, my lovely Vienna strewn with smoking monstrosities.’

‘James, you are sweet,’ said Anne.

‘Except that he’s in the wrong position to criticize,’ said Ludwig.

‘Oh, not really,’ said Sophie, ‘our Benz may be a monstrosity but it doesn’t smoke. James would never allow it.’

James looked critically at the belching exhaust of a vehicle in front of the Benz.

‘Criminal,’ he said.

‘Now, James, don’t get cross,’ said Anne. She found James amusing, stimulating. She was sure he was tempted to butt the offender. He might have done when it stopped abruptly and without warning. He managed, however, to swerve adroitly round it. He pulled up alongside.

‘Cannibal!’ he called.

‘
Mein Herr?
’ said the startled driver.

‘That’s not a rocking horse you’ve brought on to the streets,’ said James severely, ‘it’s a man-eating machine of fire, capable of cooking and consuming every citizen in Vienna. I shall report you to the emperor.’

‘God in heaven,’ said the bewildered recipient of this crisp homily.

James went on his way. Sophie was laughing, Helene giggling.

‘James, the poor man,’ said Anne, ‘you were rather hard on him.’

‘Not at all,’ said Sophie, ‘that poor man was an idiot. Well done, James.’

At Demel’s in the Kohlmarket, the uniformed doorman advanced as James drew up. The passengers alighted. Anne and Helene entered the celebrated establishment in a froth of blue and pink, Sophie in willowy white simplicity that commanded attention. Carl followed on. James bent over the car, looking for his hat. Ludwig found it for him, handed it to him. A dark young man in a wide-brimmed black hat passed by.
He saw James, then Ludwig. He looked hard at Ludwig for a moment, then passed on.

Demel’s, the most fashionable pastry and coffee shop in Vienna, was crowded. The coffee aromas were fragrant and ecstatic. Austrian army officers in sky-blue jackets slashed with gold sat with ladies of such radiant grace that even the pyramids of whipped cream had a muted richness. One lady, observing the dark, thin and slightly Messianic look of James as he brought up the rear of his handsome party, caught his eye over the shoulder of her escort. Her rouged lips parted in an inviting smile. She winked. James reciprocated.

‘I think I’ve made a hit,’ he said, seating himself with the others at a round marble-topped table.

‘With whom?’ asked Sophie and he pointed the lady out. ‘That,’ smiled Sophie, ‘is Fany Giesel, the celebrated musical-comedy actress.’

‘I’m flattered,’ said James.

‘She’s also very short-sighted,’ said Sophie.

‘That’s a blow,’ said James.

The little lights of laughter danced in her eyes. She was creamy. In her white hat with little touches of pink, and her white silk dress, she was also symptomatic of the elegance and charm he was coming to associate with the women of Vienna. She and Anne set each other off, Sophie a rich brunette, Anne’s fairness warm and lovely.

‘We’ll all have strudel, shall we?’ said Anne.

‘Do they serve griddle cakes?’ asked James.

‘What are those?’ asked Helene, pink-mouthed.

‘I’ve a vague idea that they’re a Scottish breakfast,’ said Carl.

‘Invented by Vikings,’ said James.

‘Oh? For their friends or enemies?’ said Sophie, at which Carl laughed his head off and thereby caught the eye of several young ladies, one or two of whom sighed wistfully over his good looks. He looked very dashing in his striped blazer and white ducks.

‘Carl,’ said Sophie, ‘I think we should educate James. Order strudel for him, the one with curds and raisins.’

‘An education,’ said James, ‘should not be as punishing as that.’

‘There, Sophie,’ said Anne, ‘you have met your match.’

They all ate the strudel in question, the paper-thin pastry baked around sweet curds with cream and raisins. James said it would make them all fat. They drank hot black coffee with it. Helene wanted to know what they might all do together that evening.

‘We shall whirl around Vienna with James,’ said Anne.