by ILIL ARBEL
Frau Vogl’s deceptively homelike and internationally acclaimed restaurant had not changed at all, a fact that gave Miss Merriman great pleasure mixed with a little nostalgia. Frau Vogl came to greet them, and as she spoke perfect, though slightly accented English, they could freely converse. Of course, she was no longer the pretty, slim, dark-haired young woman Miss Merriman remembered, but a middle-aged woman, plump and extremely attractive, with an unlined face and thick silver hair coiled into a beautiful chignon. She was delighted to see the group, and after a little reminiscing with Miss Merriman and a cheerful reunion with Miss Tudor and Mr. Goldwasser, who were true habitués, she insisted on taking the orders herself, and advising them on the best dishes. We must admit that the company, in the rather uninspired style of English travellers, stuck to the obvious dishes, and the orders were almost equally divided between Wiener schnitzel accompanied by erdäpfel salat and tafelspitz, with the exception of Mr. Goldwasser who ordered a more exotic dish of stuffed pickled pork breast, but they were nevertheless honoured by the distinction. Of course there was always dessert to consider, what with the many pastry sweets, strudels, and tortes.
The food was superb, which made the fact that Edmond only toyed with it, much like the romantic Nestor Chardonay, even stranger than it would have normally been for a young man who usually possessed a hearty appetite. He was rather quiet for someone of his cheerful nature, drank a lot of water, and every so often rubbed his head.
“Are you feeling unwell, Mr. Keith?” asked Miss Merriman, who always noticed everything.
“Perhaps a little,” said Edmond reluctantly. “I had a bad headache on the train and now I feel a little strange… maybe I should drink some tea…”
“I will take you to the hotel immediately, Mr. Keith,” said Miss Merriman so decisively that no mortal young man could have possibly argued. “You will have a good night’s rest, and if you are still unwell in the morning, we shall see.”
Mr. Alcott immediately rose from his seat, and called for his car. He drove Miss Merriman and Edmond, who was almost asleep, to the hotel. Miss Merriman decided to stay there, in case Edmond needed her, and sent her apologies to the company. As they were all quite concerned, they did not linger much after desert and coffee, and soon returned to the hotel, promising Frau Vogl to return soon.
In the morning, Edmond was clearly very ill. A fatherly doctor arrived, and after examining the patient, explained that Edmond had a rather nasty bout of influenza. Under the circumstances, the doctor thought, it would be best to take him for a few days to a hospital. Edmond was carried away, resigned to his fate and almost delirious with high fever, and was settled in the hospital by the nice doctor and Miss Merriman. When she came back to the hotel, the company sat down to consult.
“What is to be done?” asked Mrs. Rivers. “After all, the object of the trip was to film The Last Waltz authentically.”
“True,” said Miss Tudor nervously. “What shall we do, Jake? We can’t go back until Hank is ready to leave, and we can’t shoot.”
“Well, we can shoot all the scenery around here, and then superimpose it on the Last Waltz,” said Mr. Goldwasser soothingly. “Also, we have another important scene I planned to film in Vienna, since we were coming here anyway. I am referring to the scene of the reunion between Lady Fitz-Gardner and Lord Arthur – this is why I asked Peter to come with us.”
“But what about Hank?” asked Miss Tudor anxiously.
“I understand that he will be ready to return to England in about a week. We can contact his parents in London,” said Mr. Goldwasser.
“They are not there, Mr. Goldwasser,” said Miss Merriman. “They went to Belgium. Mr. Keith’s father had some business there, and Mrs. Keith decided to join him and do a little shopping.”
“You know everything,” said Mr. Goldwasser. “Thank you, Miss Merriman. So what would you suggest we do about Keith?”
“I suggest we ask his cousin, Lady Merton, to allow him to recuperate in her house in Northbridge,” said Miss Merriman. “You remember having visited her there, don’t you, Mr. Goldwasser?”
“Excellent idea,” said Mr. Goldwasser. “Of course I remember my very pleasant visit with Lady Merton; she is a delightful hostess. Would you be so kind, Miss Merriman, as to telephone her? Lady Merton is an old friend of yours, and I think the news and the request would be better coming from you than from me. But please make sure to tell her that all expenses, including a nurse if she can get one, will be paid by GMG.”
“Thank you, Mr. Goldwasser. I will call her immediately. Also, since you so generously offer to cover the expenses, may I suggest to Lady Merton to send the nurse here, to help Mr. Keith on the trip back? He is bound to be very weak after this really bad bout with influenza.”
“Of course, Miss Merriman,” said Mr. Goldwasser. “By all means ask her to send the nurse.”
Miss Merriman went to the lobby to tackle the almost impossible task of calling England. After much wrangling with the Exchange and many delays, lavishly using the power of Mr. Goldwasser and the might of GMG, she finally managed to speak to Lydia.
“The poor boy,” said Lydia. “This film has not been a lucky experience for him. Of course, he must come here, no point whatsoever in alarming his poor mother in Belgium; she is having a much-needed holiday. I’ll arrange for a nurse to come to you as soon as possible. I will try to get Nurse Chiffinch, and if she is busy, one of her friends, Nurse Ward or Nurse Heath, will certainly come.”
And so the filming of the scenery started right away, and Miss Tudor and Peter, the actor who played Lord Arthur, rehearsed their reunion. Everyone tried to visit Edmond, but only Miss Merriman was allowed to see him since he was much too unwell for company. The Head Nurse was not going to allow even her to come in, but Miss Merriman’s quiet authority could not be resisted, and when she told the Head Nurse “I understand he may have no visitors, naturally, but of course I will be permitted to see him,” the Head Nurse, to her own surprise, meekly agreed and even took her to Edmond’s room.
Soon Nurse Chiffinch arrived and with her usual energy and good cheer took matters into her capable hands. She quickly put on her uniform, which as always suited her so much better than her civilian clothes even though she did not know it, marched to the hospital, and conquered the entire staff with her charm and authority in a few minutes. The Head Nurse offered tea, and while they were having it cosily in the Nurse’s station, the two ladies discovered that during the war they had spent a whole week in the same hospital in London, and eternal friendship was re-established. Nurse Chiffinch immediately assumed her position as Edmond’s private nurse, pulled out her crochet work, which was a mauve bed jacket for her friend Wardy’s newly married niece, and all was well.
“We are ready for the reunion scene,” said Mr. Goldwasser to Miss Tudor and Peter. “Let’s shoot it tomorrow morning.
“It’s not really The Reunion,” said Glamora. “What would you call it, Miss Merriman?”
“I would call it a meaningful encounter,” said Miss Merriman. “What do you think, Mrs. Rivers?”
“Yes, this is what I would call it. The real Reunion comes much later,” said Mrs. Rivers. “But it is a very significant encounter; it influences the resolution a great deal.”
“I quite agree,” said Miss Merriman. “I am looking forward to the filming.”
In the morning, the Company assembled in the designated area in the street, which of course was cordoned off and forbidden to the regular citizens, all of whom were gaping at the proceedings from a distance.
The blue sky was reflected in the blue water. Aurora stood on the ancient bridge, leaning her arms on the iron railing. She was wearing a lavender and grey suit, the colours of resignation, according to the research department who recommended it to the famous dress designer who had intended to use them all along, since everyone knew that lavender and grey were the colours of spiritual, platonic romance. Her shoes were grey patent leather, a lavender lily adorned her lapel
, and a delicate lavender chiffon scarf floated around her neck, meant to bring out the famous violet eyes. A light breeze, produced by a hidden fan attached to a small generator, made the long chiffon scarf trail and wave in the air, streaming over half the width of the little bridge. Strains of music by Zoltán Kodály will be heard here, insistent, mysterious, vaguely Oriental and perhaps a little aggressive in a sensual way, as described by the research department when they insisted that Kodály should be preferred to Aram Khachaturian, who was never interested in the Danube, for Heaven’s sake!
“Aurora!” exclaimed Lord Arthur, visibly shaken by seeing his estranged wife in Vienna. “What are you doing here?”
“I am resting and thinking, Arthur,” said Aurora sadly.
“That is good,” said Lord Arthur, gazing at the ethereal lavender vision.
“And are you here on business, or a conference, Arthur?” asked Aurora, turning her head away slightly to hide her emotions.
“No,” said Lord Arthur simply, raising his eyes to the distance. “There are no more business arrangements, no more conferences, Aurora. I have liquidated the company.”
“Whatever do you mean?” asked Aurora, whose turn it was to be visibly shaken.
“Will you come and have some tea, and I will explain?” asked Lord Arthur, his handsome, tired face bent toward his wife.
“But of course, Arthur,” said Aurora.
“Cut!” said Mr. Goldwasser.
Everyone trailed into the prearranged café, where the filming equipment was installed earlier. The crowd dispersed, disappointed by not being able to see what was going on inside. Glamora and Peter sat at a small wrought iron table.
“Is Mr. Chardonay here with you, Aurora?” asked Lord Arthur.
“No, Arthur. Mr. Chardonay and I do not travel together. You should know that. Yes, he and I love each other with all our hearts – but from afar. There is no affair, Arthur, no infidelity, nothing cheap or vulgar has ever taken place. I respect you too much for such behaviour.”
“Yes, Aurora. I do understand and appreciate it. And I see you are still wearing your wedding band.”
“I will only remove it at such time when I am no longer your wife, Arthur. But not yet. However, I am anxious to know why you have liquidated the company. Please tell me.”
“When you left, Aurora, I realized that my life had lost all meaning,” said Lord Arthur with engaging, simple candour. “I was no longer interested in my work, my business, or my conferences. I am extremely wealthy already, I said to myself, and now without you, why go on fighting for more deals, more money? I decided that from that moment on, I would attend to my duties at the House of Lords, involve myself in philanthropic and community affairs, and spend the rest of my life in quiet solitude.”
“I am shocked, Arthur. Completely amazed. I never expected that,” said Aurora.
“No, of course not. You have tried, again and again, to show me the right way, and again and again I refused to see it. It is my fault. All is my fault. I blame myself and take full responsibility for my loss. I should have devoted my life to the woman I loved, not to the flower business.”
“Do you still love me, Arthur?” whispered Aurora.
“Yes, with all my heart,” said Lord Arthur. “But I expect nothing. You shall do exactly what you want with your life, and I will accept your decisions and wish you happiness.”
“Arthur, you are so kind, so understanding… I must think…”said Aurora. “This is so unexpected… In a few days, Mr. Chardonay is coming to Vienna. He wants to know his fate, once and for all. Let me be by myself until that time, and ponder the significance of what you have just told me…”
A weary smile trembled on Lord Arthur’s lips. At this moment, the women in the audience would be expected to hesitate in their reaction. Up to this point, which was about three-quarters into the film, the female audience would feel that Aurora should sacrifice all her considerable material comforts, elevated social position, cultured and pleasant life, and follow her heart with young Nestor Chardonay, heading toward the unknown. But the cold and unfeeling husband suddenly proved to be anything but cold and unfeeling, and the women would just as suddenly notice that he was actually very handsome in his own distinguished way. Not as obviously good looking as young Nestor, of course, but elegant and charming in a more mature way. He was a gentleman as was a gentleman, many women would whisper to each other, and he was her lawful husband, and who knows, perhaps young Nestor was a bit of a cad, after all, to go after a respectable married lady and turn her head? We must mention that Wardrobe indeed created some changes in Lord Arthur’s look. He was wearing a less formal suit, and his hair was combed in a much more youthful way, though all these changes were so subtle that the audience would not be able to describe them if asked. But they would register them and begin to like Lord Arthur much better than before. What should Aurora do? Who should she turn to?
“Do I still have some hope of regaining your love, Aurora? Could that be?”
“But Arthur, I have never stopped loving you… I love both of you…I am so confused, I need time…” whispered the magnificent creature. “I will telephone you in a few days, I promise…” and she glided out of the café, her very long lavender chiffon scarf trailing gently in the air.
“Cut!” said Mr. Goldwasser.
“Mr. Goldwasser,” said Miss Merriman, “there is a small error in this scene. Lady Fitz-Gardner does not know where to telephone her husband; his hotel was never mentioned.”
“Good catch, Miss Merriman,” said Mr. Goldwasser. “Peter, Glam, everyone! One small correction must be made.” Everyone got very busy again.
That evening, after Miss Merriman returned from the hospital with a good report about Edmond, Mr. Goldwasser asked her to come out for a short walk, if she were not too tired.
“I am not tired at all, Mr. Goldwasser,” said Miss Merriman. I have done very little today. By all means, let us go for a walk.”
“I wanted to speak to you privately, Miss Merriman, because I have received a letter from Miss Brinton,” said Mr. Goldwasser as they were strolling through the lovely streets.
“Is everything all right with Miss Brinton?” asked Miss Merriman.
“Well, the wedding is off again, but she is fine.”
“Wedding? Whose wedding?” asked Miss Merriman, a little confused.
“Miss Brinton has been engaged to a general in the U.S Army for over twenty years,” said Mr. Goldwasser, laughing. “Whenever the wedding date is imminent, she decides not to go ahead with it, always worrying about her freedom. The general never minded, he was not anxious to marry soon, and he travelled all over the world anyway as part of his duties. But now he is retiring, he wants to settle down, and so he told Miss Brinton that it was now or never. She went to the U.S. fully intending to go ahead with the wedding, and then, one more time, broke it off. Cold feet, I suppose. So she is coming back here in a few days.”
“So you will no longer need my services,” said Miss Merriman with an unexpected pang, for the first time in years thinking of herself rather than of other people.
“On the contrary, I want you to stay on the job – and to make it permanent. I need more than one assistant, there is always plenty of work. And as far as Miss Brinton is concerned, she will eventually marry the general. I think she will continue to work with me, but only on a part-time basis.”
“You really think she will ever marry him, Mr. Goldwasser?”
“Oh, yes, they do care for each other a great deal, and why not? He won’t interfere with anything she wants to do. He really is a very nice, sensible, easy-going man. I have always liked the general very well.”
“Nevertheless, she may be right to decide not to marry,” said Miss Merriman thoughtfully. “It is extremely difficult to get used to a new life, a new husband, when one is past youth.”
“So you don’t believe in marriage for middle-aged people, Miss Merriman?” asked Mr. Goldwasser.
“Sometimes i
t is very successful, I believe, but one must be very careful in one’s choice. One must be certain that similar interests, similar lifestyles, similar preferences are there.”
“I am not so sure these are the necessary conditions,” said Mr. Goldwasser. “Affection, respect, and understanding will go far in helping people to adjust to each other’s differences.”
“No doubt,” said Miss Merriman, “affection is the most important ingredient, but many marriages, despite the good intentions, suffer from the dissimilarity between the parties’ way of life.”
“Well, we must hope all goes well for Miss Brinton,” said Mr. Goldwasser. “But you have not answered me regarding the job.”
“I know,” said Miss Merriman. “I am very grateful to you. It is extremely tempting to just accept, and jump into the new life. But I should not do so, I should not act impulsively. Come to think of it, I am not even sure that I can act impulsively… I must think.”
“Naturally,” said Mr. Goldwasser. “I am glad you are not dismissing the idea without consideration.”
“You see, Mr. Goldwasser, my life is so clearly defined, or at least that is what I thought. I assumed I would continue to devote it to the service of my employers… but the allure of what you are offering is strong. I love the cinema, I enjoy my work with you exceedingly… it’s just that it would be so difficult to leave the old friends behind and go to a far away country…” and as she spoke the words “old friends” suddenly Mr. Choyce’s face drifted in front of Miss Merriman’s inner eye. It did so fleetingly, and she could not understand why it happened, since she had so many other old friends in the County. But we think we can explain it, though of course it is up to the reader to agree or disagree with our reasoning.
