The Prize (72 page)

‘You’re a smart young lady.’

‘I only repeat what I hear at lectures of our society.’ Suddenly, disconcertingly, she cupped her breasts from underneath and peered down at them behind the blouse. ‘The nipples are gone. It means I am warm, and the drink is good.’ She released her breasts and tapped the bottle. ‘You are not drinking, Mr. Craig.’

‘I—I guess I forgot.’

He could not remember the last time that a conversation had kept him from drinking. He lifted the bottle to his mouth, and poured, and welcomed the burning fluid into his throat and lungs.

‘Whew,’ he said. ‘That was good.’

The heat of it coursed through his veins, and he laid his head back on the seat, then turned sideways to observe that she was staring at him.

‘May I ask you a private question, Mr. Craig?’

‘Right now, anything.’

‘Your wife is dead three years, yes?’

He nodded.

‘What does a man like you do for love?’ she asked.

He pulled himself to an upright posture. He was startled, and going to tease her, but he saw that her face was solemn in the darkness.

What could he tell this serious child in honesty? That he had slept with no woman in desire and love for three years? That once a month, the week that he was sober, he would drive to a boarding-house thirty miles outside of town, where Mrs. Risten had three girl boarders, and in a businesslike way, and by the clock, release his tensions with one of these girls? That he could hardly remember the faces of any of the girls because he paid twenty dollars a visit to use them as receptacles and nothing more? That he had caressed no woman in passion since Harriet?

‘A man like me does without love,’ he said simply.

‘How is that possible for a human being?’

His hand weighed the bottle. ‘Drink makes anything possible.’

‘But you sleep with some girls?’

‘Yes, but not with love. You cannot pay for love.’

‘That is dreadful.’ Her face was soft. ‘I am sorry for you.’

‘That makes two of us,’ he said lightly. ‘Besides, what do you know about all this, Lilly? Didn’t you tell me you were twenty-three? You’re still teething.’

‘I am old enough to have eight children.’

‘And to know better.’

She laughed from deep inside. ‘Yes, I know better. You drink now, and then I will have one more.’

He drank, and drank, and then again. He handed her the bottle, and slid lower in the seat. Slowly, he was being enveloped by the soft blanket of intoxication.

‘This sister-in-law,’ she was saying, ‘is she pretty?’

‘Not like you. But all right.’

‘Like your dead wife?’

‘Not exactly. She has her points, pro and con.’

‘You have slept with her?’

The question hung above his fogged brain and then penetrated it. ‘What kind of thing is that to ask?’

‘It is a normal question.’

‘No, Lilly,’ he said in a humouring way, ‘I haven’t slept with Leah.’

‘What kind of life do you live? Are you rich?’

‘I’m poor, but I live beyond my means.’

‘What is your occupation? Are you a barrister?’

‘I’m a writer, Lilly. I write—used to.’

‘I knew it!’ Her face danced. ‘I guessed it, but I was not certain.’

‘How did you guess it?’ he asked tiredly.

‘Many, many reasons. You are young but look old. You are strange. The pipe. Mainly, the way you drink. Mr. Strindberg also drank.’

‘You sound like someone who’s known writers.’

‘Some.’

He watched the slight shimmy of the car-roof, and listened to the prow of the boat slapping the water. They were silent for a while.

‘Lilly.’

‘Yes?’

‘What do you do? Live with your parents?’

‘My father is dead. He had a lace shop in Vadstena. My mother is remarried and she lives in Lund. I did not like her husband who has busy hands—so four years ago I moved to Stockholm. I have a nice one-room apartment with a kitchen and a tiny bathroom. I pay a hundred and fifty kronor a month.’

‘How much is that in America?’

‘Thirty dollars.’

‘Where do you get your money?’

‘I sell dresses in Nordiska Kompaniet.’

He could not remember. ‘What’s that?’

‘One of the biggest department stores.’

‘Are you happy?’

‘Yes. Why not?’

‘Why don’t you get married?’

‘I will when it makes me happier.’

‘No other reason?’

‘Is there one other reason to marry?’

He turned his face towards her. ‘Lilly, if you are Sweden, I am going to like Sweden.’

‘You will like Sweden.’

‘I liked it last time, but I was young—it was my honeymoon. This time, I haven’t cared.’

‘You will like it.’ They were silent a moment, and then she touched his arm. ‘Mr. Craig, we must leave the car. We are almost there.’

He sat up, rubbed his eyes, and strained them through the wind-shield. Looming before them were the lights of Malmِ.

‘All right,’ he said. He started to open the door, when something came to his mind. ‘Lilly—one more favour.’

‘Your sister-in-law again?’

‘That’s right. I’d never get this bottle past her guard without a scene. Can you take it?’

She took it from him.

‘I’ll show you my carriage when we go past. I have room seventeen. Will you remember?’

‘Seventeen.’

‘Soon as we leave Malmِ, once we’re under way, bring it to me. Can you do that?’

‘Of course.’

‘Do I sound terribly drunk?’

‘Not very much.’

‘Good. Thank you for the company.’

They left the Volvo, and bucked the knifing wind, which fell away when they reached the haven between the train and the cabins. Passengers were filling their path, and they were slow in reaching Craig’s carriage.

He pointed up. ‘It’s this one. Seventeen.’

She bobbed her head. ‘
Tack fِr i kv
ن
ll
,’ she said. ‘
Det var mycket trevligt
.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Thank you. I enjoyed myself.’

Craig smiled. ‘How do you say, “I hope to see you again soon”?’

‘
Jag hoppas vi ses igen snart
.’

‘Well,
jag hoppas
—’

But she had already disappeared into the crowd.

Craig greeted the conductor, went unsteadily up the steps, and entered the wagon-lit. Leah was awaiting him in his compartment, agitated, as he had expected.

‘For God’s sake, where have you been?’ she cried. ‘I thought you’d fallen overboard. I looked everywhere, high and low—’

‘I was hungry,’ he said placidly. ‘I was eating in the second-class café.’

‘I looked there. You weren’t there.’

‘Sure I was. I was disguised as a Dane. I’m fine, Leah. Never better. All ready for Mr. Nobel.’

She eyed him suspiciously, without the nerve to move closer and smell his breath. ‘You haven’t had a drink?’

‘On my honour.’

‘I’m only thinking of Harriet. I keep thinking of her. I want to treat you as she would.’ Her voice pleaded for understanding. ‘I’m thinking of you, too, Andrew. I want you to be respected, and proud of yourself.’

‘You’re very kind, Lee.’ A hollow wooden thud reverberated through the boat, and they struggled for balance.

‘What was that?’ asked Leah, frightened.

‘Malmِ. We’ll be on shore in a few minutes, hitched up and on our way. I’m going to undress and get some sleep.’

She stood at the door. ‘Don’t think I want to nag you, Andrew. When you’ve needed drink, I’ve been the first to help you, God forgive me. You know that.’

He nodded dutifully.

‘But I feel you don’t need it now, and if you do, you should conquer your weakness. There’s too much at stake.’ She allowed this to sink in, and then went on. ‘I know what you are and can be, more than anyone on earth, and that is all that’s in my heart.’

‘I appreciate that, Lee.’ He wondered what would happen if Lilly should suddenly materialize with the bottle. He prayed that she would not be too soon.

‘When you stand on that stage in Stockholm, all straight and dignified,’ Leah continued, ‘when you accept the award, it’ll make up for everything that happened before.’

She buried the shaft deep, and he avoided her prosecutor’s eyes. It’ll make up for murder, she was telling him without telling him. I, Leah Decker, am my sister’s husband’s keeper, his probation officer until he has served penance and is again responsible, and I shall release him when his time is served, if ever that be, she was saying.

‘It’ll be a new day for us,’ she concluded.

‘Good night, Lee.’

‘Good night, Andrew.’

Grimly, he shut the door, removed his jacket and tie, and waited for the train to resume its passage and for Lilly Hedqvist to appear. He listened to the train being coupled to a locomotive, and soon they were under way. When the knock came at the door, it was not Lilly but the conductor. He was beaming.

‘I told the customs inspectors who you were,’ he said. ‘They were impressed. They did not want to disturb you.’