She woke up the next morning to see the sun flashing in on her from the mirror of the snow and a huge tiger-striped cat sitting on the foot of the bed. She jumped out of bed quickly and ran across the hall. The door to her mother’s room was open, and the bed empty. Katherine ran back to the small blue-paneled room and dressed. Then she hurried downstairs and stood in the hall for a moment. The door into the library where they had been the night before was open and she went in. A very thin young boy, about fourteen years old, was putting logs in the basket by the fireplace. He grinned up at her as she came in.
“Hello. You are Katherine?” He spoke fluent English, with a slight French accent.
“Yes.”
“I’m Charles Bejart. I live with your aunt. I work for her.”
“Do you know where Mother is?”
“Maybe she’s in the kitchen. Aunt Manya’s still asleep. They talked extremely late last night.”
“What time is it?”
“Twelve-ten.”
“Where’s the kitchen?”
Then her mother’s voice came from behind her. “All dressed, my baby?”
“Mother!”
“Darling! Whoa! You’ll knock me down! Well!” Julie sat down in the big blue chair and pulled Katherine down with her. “This is Katherine, Charlot.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Do you think she looks like me?”
“No. Not a bit.”
“Good. You still look like your grandmother, darling. I hope you’ll grow up to be like her. I married your father because of your grandmother. Are you hungry?”
“Sort of.”
“Charlot, would you be an angel and bring Katherine’s breakfast tray in? I don’t want to bother Masha. She’s cooking a very special something for lunch.”
Charlot was off like a streak. He moved with a wild sort of grace that made Katherine follow him with her eyes, even though she wanted to watch her mother.
Julie was looking at him, too. “I’ve only seen one other person move the way Charlot does. Sarah Bernhardt. You slept well, didn’t you, baby?”
“Yes. I meant to wake up early. I’m mad.”
“I’m glad you slept. You looked so tired last night. You shouldn’t have circles under your eyes. I don’t like to see you with circles under your eyes.”
“I’m not tired.”
“What time do you get to bed at night?”
“Twelve-thirty, usually. But I sleep till ten-thirty every morning.”
“Have you been happy with Manya?”
“Yes. But I’d rather be with you.”
“She loves you very much.”
“I’d rather be with you.”
“You’re going to be with me, my darling.”
Charlot floated in with a breakfast tray, which he put on a small table by the fire—orange juice and a soft-boiled egg and toast and apricot jam and a big glass of milk. Julie pushed Katherine gently off her lap and toward the breakfast table.
“I’m going to see how the rooster is getting on with the new hens,” Charlot said. “You’ll let me know if I can do anything for you, Mrs. Forrester?”
“I’ll let you know, Charlot.”
He left slowly, draggingly, unwilling, this time, to leave, turning back at the door to look at Julie. She smiled at him, then said to Katherine, “Eat your breakfast, baby.”
“I am. Mother, why haven’t I been with you? Where have you been?”
“I was very ill and in the hospital for a long time.”
“I know.”
“I had to have a lot of operations. Things didn’t work out the way they should have and after one operation I had pneumonia and they thought I was going to die.”
“Nobody told me. Nobody told me anything.”
“I didn’t want you to know, my dear. You’re sad and melancholy enough as it is.”
“I should have known.”
“It wasn’t only my body that was ill, darling. It was mostly my mind. I was all bitter and eaten up with self-pity inside, and I didn’t want you to see that. I knew I’d never be able to play the piano again—and I knew that my scars, my deformity, made a difference to your father. I was a great deal worse to look at for the first two years and a half than I am now. There were several operations and I wasn’t strong, so they had to wait quite a while between them. And I didn’t want you to see what I was like during that period. Not my body. Me inside. It would have been dreadful for you. I’m very much ashamed of myself now. I try to excuse myself by saying that it’s because I’m still very young. I was only twenty-seven when the accident happened. I’m only thirty now. But that seems ancient to you, doesn’t it, my baby?—and it’s no excuse for having become the nagging, jealous, bitter, small person that I was. I drank too much, too. It eased the pain, both the inside and the outside pain. Sometimes I still drink too much. You’ll have to help me with that. But anything that’s happened to me since the accident I’ve deserved. That I didn’t deserve.”
Katherine made no response. She went on eating her breakfast slowly. After a moment Julie began to speak again.
“I’m all right most of the time now. I’m strong and myself again. I’m adjusted to the prospect of never playing again, really playing, adjusted enough to be able to go on living. I’m strong enough to be your mother again and not hurt you. I didn’t behave very well at first, last night. I was afraid that you might be changed, or that you might hate me because I’m changed. But that’s all right now. We’re ourselves again, aren’t we?”
“Yes. Oh, yes, Mother, we are.”
“Finished your breakfast?”
“Yes.”
“Shall we go for our walk now?”
“Yes.”
“Where’s your coat?”
“Upstairs, I guess.”
“Your shoes are good and strong, aren’t they?”
“Oh, yes, they’re waterproof.”
“Hurry up and get your coat, then.”
“Mother, if you haven’t been here with Aunt Manya, where were you?”
“I was in the hospital a lot of the time. The rest of the time I was on a small farm in Upper New York State. It was quiet and beautiful, and I found peace there again. Go and get your coat and hat now.”
Katherine went upstairs. Manya was in the blue-paneled room stroking the big tiger-striped cat. She kissed Katherine and held her close, and the cat jumped up on Katherine’s shoulder and licked behind her ear with a strong, rough tongue.
“That’s Catherine of Russia,” Manya said. “But I’ll bet she’s had more lovers than the old Empress ever hoped to have. Your mother says she’s going to get you a dog. I told her to wait till Lyuba has puppies.” She paused, then said abruptly. “I’ll miss having you with me.”
“Oh.”
“But we’ll see each other every night at the play, won’t we, Katya?”
“Yes.”
“Katya.”
“What, Aunt Manya?”
“I love your mother more than I would my own sister, and the last thing I want in the world is to hurt her.”
“Oh.”
“If you grow up to be anything like your mother, you’ll be a very wonderful person.”
“I know.”
“And I love you very much, too.”
“You’ve been so good to me—I—I’m very grateful.”
“Don’t be silly. I love you as I would my own child. I’m going to miss you like hell. Don’t pick up swearing from your mother. Sometimes your mother swears too much.”
“I haven’t heard her.”
“She’s being careful. But she’ll start slipping soon. Don’t worry about her if she gets frightfully depressed—she’ll be all right—she’s stronger than everybody else I know put together. No matter what happens, she—” Manya broke off and stroked the cat, who began to purr loudly. From downstairs Julie called, “Katherine!”
“I—I’d better hurry,” Katherine said. “Mother’s waiting for me.”
“
All right. I guess I’ve said what I wanted to say. Just don’t ever forget that I love you both.”
“I won’t.” Katherine shoved her arms into the sleeves of her coat and jammed on her beret.
“Kiss me good-bye,” Manya said.
Katherine went over and kissed Manya softly on the cheek. “Good-bye.”
Manya held her tightly for a moment, then pushed the stiff little body away. “It’s a good thing I know you love me, my clam,” she said. Katherine stood awkwardly in the doorway for a moment, then turned and ran downstairs.
Julie was waiting for her, wrapped in a shabby old fur coat and cap, and a long, blue scarf. She was wearing gloves, but almost as soon as they went out she plunged her hands deep into her coat pockets, pulling one of Katherine’s hands in with hers. “Your mittens don’t look very warm,” she said.
Katherine trotted along by her, panting a little.
“You still limp,” Julie said.
“Not much. Hardly any, any more.”
“And you shouldn’t be so out of breath. Do you get enough exercise?”
“I did while I was at school. Gym. I hated it.”
“Why?”
“I wasn’t any good. And the gym teacher kept asking silly questions about my hip and taking me off to a special room afterward to see if anything could be done about it. And she didn’t like me, because I didn’t want her to look at me and poke me. I don’t want to have exercise, Mother.”
“I know what you’d like.” Julie squeezed her hand inside the coat pocket. “You’d like fencing. I think it might be good for your hip, too. I want you to get rid of that limp as quickly as possible. Jack Bradley said you ought to outgrow it. We’ll go to Georgio Goldoni, on University Place. He’s a great fencing master and you’ll love him madly anyhow.”
“Well, if you want me to fence, I will.”
Julie took her hands out of her pockets and turned Katherine around so that she could look at her again. “Three years is a very long time. You were a baby, and now you’re grown up and going to take care of me. Aren’t you?”
“Oh, yes, Mother.”
“What’s happened in those three years that was important to you, my darling? I know the facts, what you’ve been doing. Manya and Nanny and your father have been good about writing when I’ve been away. But I want to know what’s happened that was important just to you. Who are your friends?”
“Pete Burns.”
“He’s in the play, isn’t he?”
“Yes. He’s my friend.”
“What about friends your own age?”
“I haven’t any.”
“Other children at school?”
“I didn’t like them. And I haven’t been at school since the play began. Aunt Manya said she was going to have to send me to the Professional Children’s School soon. There was somebody once I would have liked to know.”
“Who was that, my baby?”
“It was the day after you were hurt. My birthday. In the afternoon Nanny took me to the park because I didn’t have my birthday then. I had it in July with Dr. Bradley. Did he tell you?”
“Yes, darling.”
“There were some children in the park I used to play with sometimes and they asked me to play hide-and-seek. And then someone caught me and I was ‘it.’ And I couldn’t catch anyone. Because of my hip, you know. I ran and ran and I couldn’t catch anyone and they all laughed at me and almost let me catch them and then ran away and laughed and I kept trying harder and harder to run fast and then I fell down and I cried and they all laughed. I cried because I was mad.” At the memory of that afternoon Katherine’s cheeks burned with shame. “When I got up they all started yelling and then ran away. So I went in the opposite direction until I came to an underpass.”
Telling her story to Julie, Katherine thought it was strange that she should remember it so clearly. But it was one of those things that was indelibly printed in her memory.
She had gone into the underpass and stood under the shadowed arch looking at the names and meaningless words and sentences scratched on the walls. A horse passed overhead and the clop of his hoofs vibrated through her body. She leaned against the cold damp wall, staring ahead at the dark stones opposite her, then at the bright sunlight that surged up at the arch from either side but could never get all the way under, and she hated the sunlight. After she had stood there for a little while, breathing hard, a little girl approached from the direction in which the other children had gone. She was about Katherine’s age and size, with short, light-brown hair and the largest blue eyes Katherine had ever seen. She was dressed in a gray pleated skirt, a little too short for her, a gray silk blouse, and a black beret. She walked solemnly by herself toward the underpass as though she were far away from everybody in the world. She got halfway into the underpass before she saw Katherine. Then she stopped and stared at her. Katherine stared back. After a while the little girl said, “Do you want to play with me?”
Katherine looked at her for another moment before she answered, “All right.”
“What’s your name?”
“Katherine Forrester. What’s yours?”
“Sarah Courtmont. How old are you?”
“Seven. It’s my birthday.”
“My birthday’s in April. I’m lots nearer eight than you. Do you want to stay under here?”
“I don’t care.”
“I like it under here. Were you crying?”
“No.”
“You almost were. You stay under here. They’re going to feed you to the lions in the morning and I’ll come save you.”
“All right.” Katherine leaned against the wall and watched Sarah as she ran out into the bright sunlight, ran easily and well. After she had gone a few yards she turned around, threw back her shoulders, and walked slowly toward Katherine, looking suspiciously to right and left. When she got to the underpass she dashed over to Katherine.
“Come quickly, dark-haired princess. I will save you!” she whispered.
“I can’t—my chains—” Katherine strained against invisible bands.
“My sword will slash them,” Sarah hissed, brandishing an invisible weapon. “Come now. You are free. Follow me.” And she ran out. Katherine followed her, unable to keep up. After a moment Sarah looked around at her. When Katherine ran up panting, she said with interest, “You limp.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I hurt my hip.”
“Just now?”
“No. When I was two.”
“What did they do to you?”
“Lots of things.”
“What things?”
“Oh—lots of things.”
“Did you have a wheelchair?”
“No.”
“Crutches?”
“No.”
“What then? You must have had things if you still limp.”
“A plaster cast.”
“Anything else?”
“A brace.”
“What kind of a brace?”
“A lot of leather and iron.”
“How big was the cast?”
“All my leg and around my middle here.”
Sarah stared at Katherine with interest and then said regretfully, “I’ve never been hurt. Or even very sick. Do you mind limping?”
“Yes!”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Was that why you were almost crying?”
“No.”
“Why were you?”
“Because.”
“What are you going to be when you grow up?”
“A pianist, like Mother. What are you going to be?”
“An actress. A great and famous actress with my name in lights on all the marquees … Will you play with me again?”
“Yes.”
“Often?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t usually come this far. Next time I’ll take you to where I play with my gang.”
Katherine asked wistful
ly, “Do you have a gang?”
“Oh, yes. I’m leader. You can play with us, too.”
“I—can’t run very fast.”
“That’s all right. We can rescue you from things.”
“It—it doesn’t matter to you because I limp?”
“I think it’s interesting. Besides, you don’t limp much anyhow. Does it matter to you?”
“No. Only sometimes in the park.”
“Why were you almost crying?”
“Because.”
“I won’t let you play with my gang if you don’t tell me why.”
“Because—because my mother’s been hurt and in a hospital and they won’t let me see her.”
“How did she hurt herself?”
“I don’t know. No one tells me. It was in her car.”
“Why don’t you just go to the hospital to see her?”
“I don’t know where it is.”
“Can’t you find out?”
“I guess so. But they wouldn’t let me go.”
“Just sneak out and go. After you go to bed, maybe.”
“Oh …”
“My father’s a lawyer. That’s how I know about things. What’s yours?”
“A composer. Thomas Forrester. My mother’s a pianist. Julia Forrester.”
“Is she hurt bad?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’d go find out if I were you.”
“I guess I will.”
“Will you come out to the park tomorrow?”
“I guess so.”
“Well, if you do, you come under here and me and my gang will rescue you. You’re an early Christian and they’re going to throw you to the lions. What we started to do today. And you’re all tied up so you can’t run.”
“All right.”
Through the underpass came the echo of Nanny’s voice calling. “Katherine! Katherine!”
“I’ve got to go,” Katherine said. “Good-bye.”
“Good-bye.” Sarah held out her hand. “Do not despair, comrade. Tomorrow I and my men will save thee before it is too late. Hark! I hear footsteps. I must go before I am seen. Farewell! Courage! Farewell!” And she was gone.
While she had been talking Katherine had looked out over the horizon. Now she turned back to Julie. “She wasn’t there when I went back to the park the next day, and I looked for her for a long time but I never saw her again. I don’t know why I remember it so well except maybe because of its being my birthday and it was so awful and you weren’t there. I did sneak out and go to the hospital, but they wouldn’t let me see you and they phoned Aunt Manya to come take me home.”
The Small Rain Page 3
