The Longest Winter

by Mary Jane Staples

  ‘Ah,’ said James almost evilly. His temper was a simmering furnace. ‘Sprechen Sie Englisch?’

  ‘We prefer German,’ said Sophie.

  ‘Very well,’ said James. He posed his question concerning their well-being in German. Grammatically it was execrable, but it was a necessary courtesy.

  ‘I really don’t know whether we are injured or not,’ said Sophie, ‘we are still too shocked to search for broken bones at the moment.’

  ‘I see,’ said James. He turned his attention on the car again and in a mixture of French, German and English damned it for a machine infernal and destructive. Anne blushed and Sophie broke into indignation.

  ‘How dare you, sir!’ she said in English.

  ‘How dare I, how dare I? I’ll have you know,’ said James severely, ‘that never have I seen a more baleful attempt to send four people and a horse to perdition.’

  ‘Oh, goodness, you are cross,’ said Anne.

  ‘I disagree with you, sir,’ said Sophie defiantly, ‘it was simply the consequence of unavoidable circumstances, and I thought we did very well considering.’

  ‘Well? Well?’ James regarded the veiled young ladies darkly and launched into heavy sarcasm. ‘You failed miserably, let me tell you. You had every advantage of weight, impetus, fire and fury, yet you killed nobody, not even yourselves. If you could move this miserable mountain of iron, perhaps you’d like to reverse far enough back and try again?’

  ‘Oh!’ Sophie’s indignation was reborn on a speechless note. Anne, however, grateful that no fatality had occurred, refused to take James seriously.

  ‘There’s no need to be as cross as that,’ she said from behind her pink veil, ‘you’ll feel sorry later on when you realize you concerned yourself more with our faults than our health. Fortunately, my sister and I are only shaken, but I think you might look at poor Ludwig.’ Ludwig managed to wheeze that he was in fine fettle. ‘There,’ went on Anne sweetly, ‘we are all quite well, but thank you for asking.’

  ‘Oh, let us count our blessings, by all means,’ said James. He walked around the car, inspecting it. Sophie quivered. The man was outrageous. She raised her folded parasol and bravely pointed it at him.

  ‘Stand back, sir,’ she said.

  Ludwig sat up, breathing hard. James muttered. His acquired suspicion that automobiles were not a benefactory invention was not a total condemnation. But he was intolerant of people who drove them badly. The escaping steam told him the new engine was overheated. The driver had been carelessly exceeding the recommended revolutions.

  ‘Look at this thing,’ he said, ‘an offence to civilization, an affront to peace and quiet. Is mechanical obscenity all we can offer future generations?’

  Anne stifled a giggle. He was an uncompromising brute but he did know a great many German words in keeping with his temper, however deplorable his grammar and funny his accent.

  ‘I’m not responsible for its invention,’ she said very reasonably.

  ‘I wish my conscience was as clear as that,’ said James, knowing that while he may not have invented anything he had worked in the industry. He took a look at Ludwig. Ludwig was recovered enough to take his man’s measure.

  ‘Ah, the driver, I presume?’ said James, sarcastic again.

  Sophie saw dark little devil glints in his eyes. He might not be a brigand but he could very well be first cousin to one. Ludwig, suspecting that the damage to his beautiful machine was calamitous, knew he would have to get down and endure the ordeal of finding out. He composed himself for it. He pushed back his goggles, his pleasant countenance a little sorrowful.

  ‘I am the driver and the owner, sir,’ he said, ‘and I must say this is all very unfortunate. And most distressing to the ladies.’

  ‘We are quite recovered, thank you, Ludwig,’ said Sophie.

  James regarded the ladies. Anne lifted her veil and smiled sweetly, roguishly. Sophie remained gauzily camouflaged. James softened under Anne’s smile.

  ‘I had no idea anyone would spring their two-wheeler on to the road,’ said Ludwig. ‘I hope you’ll allow that was a little unexpected, sir.’

  James was inclined to meet that reasonable argument halfway.

  ‘I suppose I must take my share of the blame,’ he conceded.

  ‘There, now we all feel better,’ smiled Anne.

  ‘For the moment,’ said Sophie, ‘I wish to remain a little aloof.’

  ‘And the car, I’m afraid,’ said James, ‘is going to remain wounded.’

  ‘Is it bad?’ sighed Ludwig.

  ‘You’d better see,’ said James.

  ‘Courage,’ murmured Ludwig to himself. He alighted. They all alighted. With James they inspected the damage. Ludwig shuddered. The fender was a mess, crushed back against the rim of the wheel, which was sadly buckled.

  ‘What can be done?’ asked Sophie.

  ‘I should leave it, if I were you,’ said James, ‘and perhaps in the night it will go away and disappear. Quite the best thing, you know.’

  He has the coolest cheek, the ruffian, thought Sophie. She tossed up her chin and pointedly said to Ludwig, ‘What do you think can be done, Ludwig?’

  ‘I shall consult the manual,’ said Ludwig.

  ‘If you’ll pardon me for saying so,’ said James, ‘you might as well consult a railway timetable.’

  ‘One must attempt something,’ said Ludwig.

  ‘Such as changing the wheel?’ said James.

  ‘The very thing,’ said Ludwig, bearing no animosity.

  ‘If we can ease that fender back,’ said James. He resigned himself and added, ‘Would you like some help?’

  ‘What a good fellow you are,’ said Ludwig.

  ‘It is only fair, of course,’ said Sophie. She lifted her veil back over her white hat. James looked into very fine but very cool brown eyes.

  ‘Of course,’ he said.

  Ludwig took off his motoring coat, tightened his gloves, bent low, grasped the fender and pulled. It creaked but scarcely moved. He reddened with further effort. James went down on one knee and applied his own muscles. Together he and Ludwig wrenched at the fender. It cracked along the line of worst damage and hung clear of the wheel. Ludwig found the manual and began to leaf through it. James extracted jack and tools from the long box on the running board and set about practical matters. Ludwig recited instructions for jacking the car. James paid no attention. He did what was necessary briskly and efficiently. He loosened the wheel nuts, jacked the car, took off the damaged wheel and fitted the spare. His paint-soiled shirt became car-soiled, his hands turned black. Anne watched in admiration, Sophie with her coolness evaporating. She thought of something. The steam, which was still wispily escaping. She asked James if he could help with that too.

  James, sweating, looked up. The young baronesses were colourful and picturesque in the summer light.

  ‘No, I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘that’s either a fault in the cooling system or a fault in the driver. A new car must be nursed like a baby. It must purr and hum, which it won’t do if it’s driven like a fire engine. When it’s growling and roaring the permitted revolutions are being exceeded.’

  ‘Oh, you are very knowledgeable,’ said Anne.

  ‘My relationship with these monsters is a love-hate one,’ said James. ‘I’ve crawled over them, into them, under them, and all for love. Realizing, however, that they’re only going to make the world a noisier place, I’m currently engaged in a hate crusade against them. Would either of you care to join?’

  ‘Although I’m fascinated,’ said Sophie, ‘I really don’t think I could take it seriously enough.’

  ‘In forty years time you’ll regret that,’ said James.

  ‘I think you are joking, aren’t you?’ smiled Anne, her green eyes swimming with the high tide of life and adventure.

  James was impressed by both of them. Neither had swooned nor had hysterics. They were both remarkably self-possessed and, it had to be said, engagingly attractive. She of the pink hat,
with its cloudy halo of upturned veil perched enchantingly on hair the colour of golden corn, was gloriously young. She of the fine brown eyes, not quite so cool now, was undeniably striking.

  ‘In my present mood,’ he said, ‘I’m far from joking.’

  ‘I am not so cheerful myself,’ said Ludwig.

  James jacked down. He put the tools away, wiped his hands on a cloth from the box and said, ‘If you’ll switch on, I’ll turn her. If your axle is damaged you’ll have to leave her. If it isn’t you may be able to roll her into Vienna.’

  ‘Let us see,’ said Ludwig. He climbed in, switched on and James cranked. The engine fired. Ludwig reversed the Bugatti off the verge and straightened up on the road. Then he moved slowly forward. James detected the slightest of wheel wobbles.

  ‘You’d better follow me into Vienna,’ he said, ‘and if you get there drive straight to your engineers and leave it with them. If you wish, I’ll take the ladies up with me.’

  ‘It may be safer,’ agreed Ludwig. ‘I’m Lundt-Hausen, the ladies are the Baronesses von Korvacs. Do you care to exchange cards, Herr –?’

  ‘Fraser,’ said James, ‘James Fraser. I carry no cards, I’m afraid.’ He was not surprised the young ladies were titled. They had the look, the air. He was aware that his old, well-worn clothes must make him seem more of a tramp than a gentleman. That, however, had not made the baronesses turn their noses up at him. Which, considering his initial reactions of anger and disgust, represented a triumph for their well-bred social qualities.

  ‘Unfortunate, the accident,’ said Ludwig, ‘but you’re a helpful chap, Herr Fraser. You – ah – you are visiting Vienna?’

  James smiled and said, ‘You can find me at the Ecole Internationale. I teach there.’

  ‘You’re a teacher?’ Sophie was agreeably surprised. He looked anything but academic. ‘I wish sometimes I might be as useful as that. To teach is to make a real contribution to life.’

  ‘Do you think so?’ James seemed amused. ‘You should tell that to the pupils. I feel they consider teachers, teaching and learning all rather boring.’

  ‘Herr Fraser,’ said Anne, ‘you have really been very kind and I shall be pleased to ride back to Vienna with you.’

  ‘In that case,’ said Sophie, ‘I shall naturally accompany my sister.’

  ‘Of course,’ said James.

  ‘Of course,’ said Ludwig.

  ‘Dear me,’ said Anne.

  They drove to Vienna, Anne and Sophie up with James, Ludwig following with his front offside wheel running very slightly out of true. Anne was natural, friendly. Sophie was curious. She asked James about the school and how he came to be teaching there. He explained that he had left England to travel around Europe for a year, doing a little sketching and painting, and had met Maude Harrison, the principal of the school, in the Tyrol. Sophie and Anne thought his decision to take on the temporary post highly commendable.

  ‘Oh, I’m doing very well out of it,’ said James, ‘I’m enjoying Vienna.’

  When they reached the city, Ludwig left them to drive to the automobile engineers, while Anne gave James instructions on how to reach their house in the Salesianergasse. He handled the two-wheeler skilfully in the traffic. As they turned in through the open gates of the forecourt Sophie saw a motor car standing before the house. Around it were her parents, her brother Carl and a sleek gentleman. Two interested servants hovered in the background.

  ‘Herr Fraser,’ said Sophie, ‘please will you tell no one we had an accident? It will put my parents against progress for ever.’

  ‘Baroness,’ said James, ‘allow me to put you both down and to go on my way. I too am against some progress.’ He brought the two-wheeler to a halt on one side of the forecourt. The people around the car looked up.

  ‘Anne,’ said Sophie, ‘can we allow him to make us look ungrateful?’

  ‘Certainly not,’ said Anne, ‘the least he can let us do is offer him some refreshment. I’m sure he will not really say anything to Mama.’

  James regarded with interest the great, square-fronted house. Carl arrived, a slim tall young man with dark hair and blue eyes. He gave a hand to his sisters as they alighted and looked up at James in some curiosity.

  ‘I thought you two girls were out with Ludwig,’ he said, ‘but never mind, come and look at the motor car and help me persuade Father we must have it. If you back down I’ll skin you.’

  Anne called up to James.

  ‘Herr Fraser, please get down. I wish to introduce you to my family and to have you take some refreshment.’

  ‘You must excuse me,’ said James, ‘but I’m really not presentable.’

  ‘Ridiculous,’ murmured Sophie, getting a little of her own back. It made James smile.

  ‘Carl,’ said Anne, ‘this is Herr James Fraser. He has been indispensable to us this afternoon and knows absolutely everything about motor cars.’

  ‘Then he’s just the fellow,’ said Carl. ‘Will you come and tell us what you think of this one, old chap?’

  ‘I warn you,’ said James, climbing down, ‘I’m much more likely to be frank than helpful.’

  ‘I can’t deny that,’ said Sophie, ‘Herr Fraser can be very frank. His opinion is that motor cars are monsters.’

  ‘Good Lord,’ said Carl disbelievingly, then laughed and added, ‘you’ll get on famously with my mother, then.’

  The baron and his wife were far too civilized to show the astonishment they felt at the layer of paint, oil and grime anointing James’s garments. Anne took their minds off the worst of it by emphasizing the sterling qualities of his character. She declared him to be the most invaluable of men in the way he had stopped on the road to change a wheel for Ludwig. This might have induced the baroness to ask why a wheel change was necessary, but with so much interest focused on the motor car the salesman had brought for inspection, the moment passed without comment from her.

  The model was a Benz of dark green. Ludwig’s Bugatti was new enough, but the Benz was pristine bright and immaculately beautiful. Carl was more than keen for the family to acquire it. At twenty-four he might have made his own decision, but he would rather hear the family express united favour. Also, if the family acquired it his father would pay for it and bear the running costs, which would suit Carl admirably. A fellow had so many other expenses to meet.

  Anne was enthusiastic. Sophie was impressed, and although Ludwig’s mishap was still a little black spot in her mind, she hoped, for Carl’s sake, that Herr Fraser would not begin to abuse this gleaming machine of power if his opinion were asked. His expression was just a little threatening, she thought.

  Anne’s enthusiasm made the suave salesman feel the day could be a winning one.

  ‘Papa,’ she said, ‘you simply must let Carl have it. It would set him up as the most popular dasher in Vienna, and he’ll attract all the most eligible girls, which would please Mama no end.’

  ‘However dashing Carl would look,’ said the baroness, ‘I should hope no young lady would consider that more important than so many other things.’

  ‘Oh, you’d be surprised at what sweeps some of us off our feet these days,’ said Sophie. ‘But I must agree, Mama, it would do very well for Carl. Don’t you think so, Herr Fraser?’

  She knew he did not really want to be drawn in, but a little spark of feminine capriciousness, even of curiosity as to his reaction, compelled the question from her.

  ‘Ah, well,’ said James and coughed politely and got out of it in that way.

  But Sophie, her eyes meeting his in sweet challenge, was too intrigued to yield. She wondered if he really would metaphorically strip the proud Benz of its beauty and leave it looking monstrous. She said to her parents, ‘Herr Fraser is simply the most impressive man I’ve ever heard on motor cars, and I’m sure he could tell you Carl could not do better than have this one.’

  Carl put an arm around his sister and squeezed her.

  ‘What is your opinion, then, Herr Fraser?’ asked the baron pol
itely. He knew nothing of automobiles himself.

  ‘That it’s better for a family to make the decision between them,’ said James, ‘and for outsiders to stay very much on the outside.’

  ‘Oh, you are funking it,’ murmured Sophie.

  ‘For myself,’ said the baroness, hoping that if she remained on the scene long enough the thing would go away, ‘I don’t really need to know how marvellous it is, I’m convinced it would always be more of a noise than a miracle.’

  ‘I’m not going to contradict that,’ said James.

  On his left side Anne whispered, ‘But you must, think of Carl.’

  Carl, aware of murmurs and counter-murmurs, was inclined to let things take their course. Obviously, his sisters found something rather intriguing about the disreputable-looking stranger. He knew them well enough, however, to be sure that they had not brought home a man who would blow the house up, even if he looked as if he might. The point was, the gathering was wholly about motor cars, and more especially about this Benz. Carl was willing to bet that the gleaming splendour of the model, together with the fact that his sisters were on his side, would win his parents over. They only needed a little push.

  ‘Excellency,’ said the salesman to the baron, ‘I venture to suggest that if you and your family would care to let me take you for a short excursion, I could demonstrate and explain all the virtues of the model in the most practical way.’

  ‘But you’d be biased in its favour,’ said Sophie, smiling to let him know she did not hold that against him, ‘and you’d never be as illuminating as Herr Fraser. He is a marvel of candour and expertise.’

  ‘Are you?’ Carl asked James.

  ‘I’ve been close to design and development,’ said James modestly. He was not sure whether he should involve himself. An enthusiast like Carl would only want to have his enthusiasm justified. But he was very aware of Anne, her eyes warm with appeal on behalf of Carl, and of Sophie with that mischievous challenge in her smile. They could not have thought much of his bad temper. He did not usually give way to it like that, but he had been violently shocked – as much for them as for himself – by the closeness of the mishap to real disaster. However, it was not a man’s temper people like these considered important, it was his background. They thought him an impecunious, wandering artist temporarily turned teacher, no doubt. He had made various friends in Vienna. He had not entered any aristocratic circles. Nor had he met any young women as striking as these young baronesses. This was a time to sacrifice one’s anonymity. ‘My father,’ he said, ‘is Sir William Fraser of Edinburgh. I expect,’ he added casually, ‘that you may have heard of him.’