Return to Silbersee

by Jane Arbor

  'She is calling herself his fiancee to people.'

  'Not to me. However, I've decided that she and I must part company, in whatever circumstances she goes. For I'm not leaving. And if you are wondering why, less than a year ago, I thought I was too old for it and now have changed my mind, it's because I shan't be carrying the load alone any longer. You don't think me mad, do you?' Magda enquired anxiously.

  'Far from it. And you've decided all this while you have been in Bonn?'

  'To take on my sister and her husband as partners. As I've told you, he has just retired from the Givil Service where his work was accountancy. So he will see to all the financial business, and my sister and I will share the res't. It was arranging all the technicalities of partnership that kept me away so long, and I couldn't give you a hint by telephone or letter, as officially Ilse must be the first to hear of the change. So not a word to anyone yet, Julie, please?'

  'You know there won't be,' Juliet assured her. 'But tell me '

  There was so much to tell and discuss, from Magda's alternating euphoria and misgivings, to the practicalities of how and when, that she stayed to supper and for a long time after it. Inevitably at last the talk turned to Karl and to Helmut, who was now at home and working again.

  Magda said, not making a question of it, 'And you haven't been to see Karl Adler in the Prinz Franz.'

  Juliet shook her head. 'No. But how did you know?'

  'Because I have—been to see him, I mean.'

  'You have? How? You've been in Bonn!'

  'Yes, but on the way back I had a long wait in Munich for my connection to Gutbach, where my car was meeting me. So I went to the hospital and was allowed a little time with him.'

  'How—was he?'

  'Himself. Thinner. Rather drawn, from all he has been through. But thinking forward. Seeing a future ahead now.'

  'He couldn't at first?' Juliet questioned.

  'He says not. At first he was all despair, until they let him try to walk again, and he could, though of course only limping with a stick. But I think you should have visited him in all this while, Julie; I know how he affects you, but wouldn't it have been a courtesy at least?'

  Juliet looked away. 'He hasn't wanted to see me,' she said.

  'What makes you think so?'

  'He told Ilse. She passed on the message, and considering how he and I last parted—by telephone—I wasn't surprised.'

  Magda sighed. 'Oh dear, what is it between you two? So what happened over the telephone?'

  'I accused him of tempting away my workers with his offer of fantastic wages. He claimed Adler Classics wouldn't stoop to competing with the likes of me, but when he said I must realise that all was fair in love and war, I took that as an admission that he had coaxed them away. But then a rather strange thing happened '

  'What?' asked Magda patiently.

  'Well, when the men were free of their notice to me, and they applied for the jobs, the pay foreman said he had orders not to take them on, and now they are reasonably happily back with me.'

  'And doesn't that show that you had accused Karl wrongly?'

  Juliet frowned in perplexity. 'I don't know. I don't know what to think. If he hadn't said that about love and war '

  'But a lot has happened for Karl since then,' Magda reminded her. 'For one thing, he has risked his life for poor Helmut Jager. And as soon as you heard his friends could visit him, weren't you ever tempted to put matters straight between you over something so trivial and behind you? Weren't you, Julie—ever?'

  'Not when he had told Isle he wouldn't see me.'

  'Though if you hadn't heard that, would you have swallowed your pride and gone to see him?'

  'I don't know. I don't think so.'

  Magda sighed again. 'I'm sorry. I'd have given a great deal to hear you say Yes,' she said.

  'Would you?' Juliet waited for Magda to tell her why—in vain. Magda had no more to say. But though Juliet knew her friend did not mean her silence 9s a rebuke, she could not help wishing that just for once Magda would urge, persuade, even goad. It was not her way, as Juliet had always known and appreciated, but this time, when it would have taken so little— pitifully little 1—Dutch courage to send her running to Karl to say 'I'm sorry' or whatever less or more he

  would listen to She felt, however unfairly, that

  Magda had let her down. If Magda had told her she must go to him, she would have gone.

  It could hardly be said that Rutgen was electrified by the news that the Baronin meant to resume management of the hotel. The Lake folk did not frequent it themselves. The village Wirtshaus was their favoured hostelry, and the departure or supplanting of mine host, Herr Munster, and his good lady would have caused a good deal more stir.

  Juliet had dreaded for Magda her difficult interview with Ilse. But apparently Ilse took the news of her replacement with haughty calm, claiming only that she wasn't too sorry; she had never had great hopes of detaching the hotel from its previous dowdy image except in the long term, and in the short term she had, in any case, other plans which might have necessitated the breaking of her contract herself.

  'She still hasn't mentioned any engagement to me, and she may have been making the best of sour grapes,' Magda reported. 'But I suppose one must conclude that her "other plans" mean that she is going to marry Karl Adler. Though I hope not, and when I go to see him again, I shall be rude enough to ask him, I think. Perhaps only to hear the worst—that when he has built his house on the Fichte Platte I shall have seen the last of Ilse here at the Schloss, only to have her as a neighbour, which prospect I do not welcome at all.'

  'Not a word nor a question from Magda as to whether Juliet had had second thoughts about visiting Karl herself. As always, Magda was standing off from any persuasion or dictation, and even when, a few days later, she rang to ask that Juliet should do her the favour of delivering to the hospital some books which she had promised to Karl, she emphasised that Juliet need only leave them with one of the nurses. She herself had taken to her bed with a heavy chill, but she would send the books down to Juliet by her driver.

  For Juliet it was an errand without overtones of ruse on Magda's part. All Magda had asked was that she should deliver the parcel to Karl's ward, and that was what she was going to do—leave it and come away.

  But she was to find the ward in a state of high crisis. While she waited on the corridor three or four patients' trolleys were wheeled quickly past her and into the ward, without a glance or a word being thrown her way. Nurses with preoccupation written on their faces came and went; the lift doors opened and shut on white-coated housemen bound to or from the ward, and it was some time before Juliet managed to corner a staff nurse to give her message and to proffer the books.

  The harassed girl fingered her waistband instead of taking them. 'Look,' she confided, 'we've a terrible flap on—an autobahn accident, and we're just getting the intake up from Casualty. Sister is off duty and—well, why not take the stuff in to Herr Adler yourself? There are no restrictions on his visits now, and that's his door there, though he may be out on his balcony Yes, Nurse—coming!' She withdrew her

  attention from Juliet to answer a junior signalling to her from a doorway, and the next minute she was gone.

  Juliet hesitated, her heart quickening its beat almost painfully. Should she? Dared she? What would Karl say when she told him she was acting messenger for the Baronin who was ill? He would have to say something, if only to thank her for the books or to enquire for Magda. He couldn't just ignore her, look through her —could he?

  She moved like an automaton towards his door. Until she touched its handle she could always turn back ... But as soon as she turned it her resolve hardened. She would take what was coming to her— whatever was. And she longed to see him so much.

  His room was airy, sunny and empty, the bed neat, the stretch of the polished floor a small desert to be crossed to the open french window and the minute balcony beyond. Juliet stepped out on to it, close to the he
ad of the chaise-longue which stood there; the figure lying on it neither roused nor even stirred.

  She had surprised Karl deeply asleep, as he had once surprised her. Very softly she moved forward a few steps, to stand by his side, looking down at him. There was a light woollen rug over his knees and thighs; his cap-sleeved shirt was open to its lower buttons and he had lost little if any of his deep tan.. Asleep and as defenceless as she remembered he had claimed to find her, he was younger than his years, one of the golden lads of Shakespeare's lyric, and as she yearned for him every nerve ached to dare as he had done to her—to kiss, just once, without his waking.

  Not his lips. That was too dangerous. His hand which drooped to the floor, palm open and upturned? Or the long exposed line of his collarbone which had fascinated her once before? Though she knew it was impossible, tempted, she dropped silently to her knees and bent over him. As long as she didn't touch him, he wouldn't ever know.

  But her breath must have feather-touched his bare' skin, for he stirred, arched his spine, and though his eyes remained closed his arms went round her, drawing her so close that her face was pressed into the hollow of his shoulder. Held so, she could not see whether he had wakened enough to know what he was doing or who she was, until one of his hands went gropingly to her hair and the other slackened its pressure on her back.

  Freed, she lifted her head—to meet the aware, searching look in his blue eyes—and had a .moment's panic .thought, So he is conscious. He does know, before his parted lips came down in hungry, demanding possession of her mouth and, her control no match for her own desire, she became all response, all yielding, all surrender ... giving and taking, not questioning nor rejecting in those moments of recognition of and pity for the male need which spoke in every sensual kiss and every caressing movement of his restless hands.

  For he wasn't making love to her. He was long- deprived Male seeking physical solace of Female; in that need the seductive touch of any woman-flesh would serve him well, and that she could forgive and understand. She had been able to give him some measure of release, and for the moment her love asked no more.

  He calmed, and she came to her feet slowly, expecting no apology and getting none. He said roughly, 'I suppose Magda von Boden sent you, and obediently you came?'

  She nodded. 'Yes.'

  His lip curled. 'I thought as much. She may have had to twist your arm, but with teeth set and dogged in the face of duty, you came.'

  Puzzled, Juliet said, 'Magda only wanted me to bring some books—those,' indicating them with a finger—'but she didn't ask me to see you; just to leave them on the ward for you.'

  'Indeed? And why didn't you?'

  'Because they've an emergency on and had no time for me. A staff nurse asked me to deliver them myself, and so I did.'

  'Nobly ignoring the risk you might be running, but finding me asleep, deciding you might as well inspect the damaged goods while you were here?'

  She felt hot colour flood her face. 'Risk? What risk?' she asked.

  'Of having to make a show of a sympathy you couldn't feel; the kind of compassion you didn't afford to Gerhard's infirmities and which you couldn't drum up for me. So you took a furtive look and even knelt for a closer inspection. Not much to see, though, is there?' With an irritable flick of finger and thumb he threw back the covering rug. 'Look, two legs still, two thighs, a wonky spine which doesn't show. I shall crawl in time, even if I can't run. Satisfied now that you don't have to go through the motions of squeezing out any pity for me? But for God's sake, woman,' he suddenly exploded, 'didn't Ilse tell you that I didn't want you here, wouldn't see you if you came?'

  Juliet flinched from his vehemence. Through dry lips she said, 'Yes, she told me, and I shouldn't have come now if Magda had expected I should have to see you.' She paused and regaining some spirit, demanded, 'But why me? You've been seeing Ilse Krantz—naturally. And I think you welcomed Magda, and there must have been plenty of your friends whom you've seen. So why not me? Haven't I the right to know?'

  He scanned her face thoughtfully. Then his eyes dropped in deliberate appraisal of her figure, the jut of her hips revealed by the lines of her low-cut summer dress. She might have been something inanimate he was deciding whether or not to buy. Raising his eyes again, 'Don't you know?' he asked.

  'No.'

  'Then your own comparison with Ilse and the Baronin should tell you. It's because neither they nor anyone else I know have your hang-ups in the face of a man's inadequacy; your impatience of it, your ostensible ability to pity—but only so long as pity asks nothing of you. Make myself clear, do I, as to why I told Ilse that if you dared to come, I'd throw you out?'

  Listening, appalled, Juliet felt almost physically sick. With a hand to her throat, she whispered, 'Very clear. Very, very clear. You thought that of me? That I couldn't admire you, or be grateful to you for

  Helmut's sake, or—care that you ?' Unable to go on, she could only stare dumbly, biting her Up to stop its trembling.

  Karl said, 'Gratitude, admiration, concern—oh, you'd have worn them all right, I daresay. It's just that I wasn't prepared to witness a performance which would probably have been about as phoney as your co-operation just now. Superbly done, I'll admit. But, phoney it had to be.'

  Her tone still scarcely audible, she said, 'It wasn't phoney. I wasn't putting on an 'act, I—I understood '

  'Understood? Understood what?' he barked.

  How could she express her instinctive sensing of his need? But he was waiting, and she had to try. 'I meant that I realised ... understood that it wasn't me you were making love to. As me, that is But I just happened to be there, when it might have been almost anyone else. You weren't wanting me, or asking me to want you; It was your reaction to finding me near to you when you woke, and I—sort of—wanted to help. Oh, do try to understand what I mean!' she appealed.

  She shrank from the glint of anger in his eyes. 'I don't have to try too hard,' he said. 'You found me so sex-starved that if it had been Anna the ward maid or Kirsty the newspaper girl whom I'd found hovering when I woke, I'd have clinched with either of them just for the hell of it, as readily as I did with you. Is that what you're saying? Is it?'

  She nodded reluctantly. 'I suppose so. I only know that it wasn't me you wanted in your arms. It couldn't have been.'

  'Any more than your response was anything but kindness, "wanting to help"? As you've admitted, you were kindness itself to Gerhard until he asked too much.' Suddenly, though with some difficulty, Karl hunched himself round to lie on one hip with his back to her. Over his shoulder he said wearily, 'Oh, go away. You and I get nowhere with words, and we've already spent a lot too many doing it. So go away "please—now.'

  'Very well.' She turned, but as she reached the door he spoke again.

  'Of course you could ask yourself why, both Anna and Kirsty being pretty wenches and as far as I know uncommitted and probably willing, I should have managed to control my baser urges until you came along and "happened" to be there when I had to pounce. But if you do come up with an answer, don't bother to tell me. For I really couldn't care less.'

  Chapter Ten

  Autumn eame early but gently to the Silbersee. September was barely in before there was a bite of dawn frost in the air; sometimes rime made white lace of every spider web in the hedgerows, and the falling leaves, richly red and gold before they fell, dried and browned into a brittle crackle of carpet for the forest floor.

  But that year there were no storms to lash the lake to fury, and the fogs which hid the towering Volksspitze and its sister peaks would usually clear by noon, drifting away, wisp by wisp, leaving behind a short but warm golden day.

  There were still some summer tourists at the hotel. Magda's relatives had settled in as her co-managers, and it was regaining the image she had wanted for it. It had lost a certain clientele with Use's departure, but it was attracting another, and Magda claimed that at least now she hadn't to shut her eyes to garishness every time she walked through it
s public rooms.

  Ilse had left without demanding a too-heavy compensation, saying magnanimously that even dying to pull into shape a hopeless proposition like the Schloss when she had come to it could be counted as experience by which she might profit, if she should consider embarking on anything similar in the future. Whereat she disappeared, though whether back into Munich society or to a wider field, no one heard. For Karl, after leaving the hospital for convalescence in a local nursing-home, had also left the region, his return understood to be indefinite. He could walk with a slight limp and he could drive his car. He was making a leisurely tour of the Italian Lakes,-it was said. But whether Ilse was with him or was meeting him, either no one of his colleagues knew, or they were not saying.

  The sawmill on the Klinge Platte had gone up at incredible speed, and on these still days the hum of its machinery made a kind of muted backing to all the other lake sounds—the shouts of the timbermen, the swish-swish of the water displaced by the launches, the bickering of the birds and the noise of the trundling lorries on the rough estate roads. It was an intrusive sound, but it wasn't offensive, and even Juliet had to admit that she would miss it if it weren't there.

  Since that humiliating and heart-tearing parting from Karl, she had put every mental and physical power she had into work, to save herself from thinking ... remembering. She thought wood-carving, dreamed it, sold it, and when she failed to sell it, plugged on until she did. She was lucky. These late summer weeks were the buyers' ordering season for their Christmas trade. The School gradually had as much work as it could handle. Juliet cut expenses mercilessly and paid out bonuses on total sales. So far at least she felt she had paid her debt to Gerhard. She had saved his School. Saved it at a cost which no one but she would ever know, but saved it.