The Small Rain

by Madeleine L'engle

  “Yes. You are. Funny and sweet … Well! We won’t have a lesson today. Let’s take the next train and get away from this place. Have you everything you need in that little suitcase?”

  “Yes.”

  “Come on, then.” He took her coat down and helped her into it, took her beret and dropped it onto the top of her head.

  Katherine didn’t talk much on the train. She sat next to Justin and listened to him. He talked about himself, his childhood, his music, Julien Quimper, his sister Anne. The white lines on either side of his mouth that made him so much like Charlot relaxed, and his gray-blue eyes were shining and happy. When they got to Montreux, they had to take a streetcar to Territet, then the funicular, and then it was a ten-minute walk up the mountain to the tiny villa where Justin lived with his sister. Anne met them at the door. She was wearing a warm-gray tweed suit, and her hair was very short and curled softly over her head, and her smile as she took Katherine’s suitcase was as warm as Justin’s.

  “I feel as though I know you already,” she said, “Justin has talked so much about his prize pupil. But I thought you were a little girl, and I find a young lady. You’re to sleep in my room, dear, on this cot by the window. I hope you don’t mind, but we haven’t an extra room.”

  “Oh, this is lovely!” Katherine said. “I love being by the window, and they’re such beautiful blue blankets, Mlle. Vigneras.”

  “You must call me Anne, because I’m going to call you Katherine,” Justin’s sister said.

  Katherine spent the rest of the afternoon with Anne, since Justin had a lesson to give in town. Anne showed her an album of pictures of Justin, and in going through an old box of pictures and programs and clippings from all the concerts Anne and Justin had been to when they were children, they came across a picture of Julie when she was very young in Paris.

  “Oh!” Katherine gasped. “Oh! It’s Mother! Look! It’s my mother!”

  It was a newspaper picture of Julie in an old black coat and beret, leaning against the Curve of a piano, one beautiful hand holding a cigarette, the other stuck deep in her pocket.

  Anne watched Katherine for a moment; then she went quickly into her bedroom and came out with a small, blue-leather frame. “This ought to just about fit. Let’s see.” She took the picture and slipped it into the frame. “It’s perfect. Isn’t that lucky? There you are, dear.”

  “For me?”

  Anne laughed. “Yes. For you.”

  “Oh, thank you! Thank you ever and ever so much!”

  They had dinner in Montreux at the Montreux Palace. Anne said that it was a great treat for them, a celebration because of Justin’s appointment to the Conservatory. They were very gay and very happy. Katherine looked at Justin’s face with the tight lines gone, and something seemed to rise up inside her like a bird taking wing.

  Julien Quimper’s concert was magnificent. Katherine sat between Anne and Justin, and when the lights came on, the tears were streaming down her face. Justin laughed and pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket, the white one with the blue border, and gave it to her. “I love Katherine,” he said to Anne. “She always cries whenever music moves or excites her, and she doesn’t even know it till you tell her about it.”

  —He doesn’t mean it—Katherine thought—but he said he loved me—

  Julien Quimper came back to Territet with them. It was after midnight when they got back, and they talked for over an hour before Katherine began to play. Anne brought out a bottle of wine, and when it was finished Justin brought out another. They were well into the second bottle when Julien Quimper put his hand on Katherine’s shoulder and said, “Justin has had more than enough attention for tonight. I want to hear you play. If you have half the talent your mother had—” and then he stopped short. “Go on. Play.”

  Katherine had refused the wine, because she wanted desperately to play well for her mother’s sake and she was afraid it would make her brain and fingers less accurate, but she felt drunk as she rose and went to the piano. Justin came and stood beside her, and she whispered up at him, “I’m afraid.”

  He bent down and kissed her on the forehead and whispered back to her, “Don’t be afraid, my darling, you’ll be all right.”

  She started to play. She was so nervous and excited that she knew she was running away with herself sometimes, but the excitement gave her a new lack of inhibition in her playing, too. When she had finished the short program Justin had prepared, Julian Quimper said, “Do you know the Gigue from the Fifth French Suite? Your mother used to play that so you couldn’t help being happy and wanting to dance for joy.”

  “I’ve worked on it some,” Katherine answered.

  “Play it, then. I’d like to hear you do something in that vein. You tend to stress the melancholy and emotional in your playing. I suppose it’s your youth.”

  “She’s generally too reserved and controlled,” Justin said. “She’s reversing her usual procedure tonight.”

  Katherine played the Gigue. When she had finished, Julien Quimper got up and sat down on the piano bench beside her and put his arm around her. “You’ve got a lot to learn,” he said. “You’ve got a tremendous lot to learn. How old are you?”

  “Almost seventeen.”

  “Well, I think you’re your mother’s daughter, my dear. She’d be proud of you if she could have heard you tonight. She was proud of you, wasn’t she?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Of course she was. Don’t be afraid to say so.”

  Anne rose. “I think I’d better take Katherine off to bed.”

  “Are you sleepy?” Julien Quimper asked Katherine.

  “No.”

  “Don’t make her go to bed, Anne. She likes being up late.” Julien Quimper refilled his glass of wine.

  “You go on to bed, Anne,” Justin said. “I’ll take care of Katherine.”

  Anne sat down again. “I’ll wait.”

  “It’s all right, curlyhead. Go on. You know you have to be up early tomorrow. And you said you had a headache.”

  Anne pushed her fingers through her cropped hair. “Well, I do.”

  “Then go on to bed, dear. But let Katherine have a little fun for once. She hates that dreadful school of hers, don’t you, little one?”

  “Yes.”

  Anne couldn’t help yawning. “Would you like to stay up a while longer, Katherine?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “And she doesn’t have to be back at school till noon. I wangled her permission till that late. As long as she catches the eleven-thirty train she’ll be all right.”

  “Well, all right,” Anne said, yawning again. “It’s all that wine. It always makes me sleepy when I drink too much, and I have had an awful headache. It’s been a lovely evening, anyhow. So good night, everyone. Shall I see you again while you’re in Montreux, Monsieur Quimper?”

  “I’m afraid not, Anne. I’m on to Lausanne tomorrow and then Zurich. So good-bye.”

  “Good-bye, and thank you,” Anne said.

  “Good-bye, and thank you.” Julien Quimper bowed deeply. Anne kissed Katherine good night, pulled her brother’s ear, and went off to her room. Julien Quimper filled a wineglass and took it to Katherine. “Now you can drink, little one,” he said. “You’ve played beautifully and it’ll do you good. As I remember, your mother liked to drink.”

  “Yes, she did.”

  “When she was just a slip of a thing in Paris she could drink many good men under the table. Small, like you, but made of iron. I believed in her right from the first night I met her, in May, in a small café under the chestnut trees. Beautiful and romantic. Only she never fell in love with me. I was desperately in love with her. It’s a strange thing, how you can love somebody, how you can be all eaten up inside with needing them—and they simply don’t need you. That’s all there is to it, and neither of you can do anything about it. And they’ll be the same way with someone else, and someone else will be the same way about you and it goes on and on—this desperate need
—and only once in a rare million do the same two people need each other.” He paused and laughed. “Those are cheerful words, aren’t they, child? But I’m afraid they’re only too true.”

  “Yes. I know,” Katherine said.

  “I doubt very much if you know now,” Julien Quimper said, “but unless you’re phenomenally lucky, you will know someday.”

  “Maybe she’ll be lucky. I think she’ll be lucky.” Justin smiled at her.

  “No,” Katherine shook her head. But inside her she was saying, she was contradicting herself—He kissed me before I began to play, he kissed me to give me courage—

  She sat curled up on a corner of the sofa, sipping her wine. Every time she emptied her glass Justin or Julien Quimper filled it again. She sat with her legs tucked under her on the sofa, and the smoke from Justin’s cigarettes and Julien Quimper’s pipe curled around her head, and their words curled around like the smoke, and Justin’s arm was heavy across her shoulders, and she put her head down on it.—My braids are up and I look quite nice—she thought—and my eyes are blue, almost black, like my grandmother’s, and Justin looks like Charlot, only he’s much more like Mother. I cried, too, when Aunt Manya read out of The Oxford Book of English Verse and cried when Sarah read out of The Oxford Book of English Verse, I wish she hadn’t; it’s always something that makes people unhappy, only I won’t be unhappy, because Julien Quimper said I was my mother’s daughter, and she’d be proud of me, and she wouldn’t be proud of me if I was unhappy because of The Oxford Book of English Verse, because of what Aunt Manya read, and because of what Sarah read, why should I be unhappy, Justin kissed me before I began to play.—

  Julien Quimper got up and stretched and kissed Katherine good-bye. She stayed curled up on the sofa while Justin saw Julien Quimper to the door. She closed her eyes, and her thoughts stopped coming in sentences, even stopped coming in words, but she knew when Justin came back and was standing over her.

  “You’d better go to bed, little one,” he said.

  “Yes. I know.” She stood up and looked at Justin standing in front of her, and suddenly the white lines on either side of his mouth came out, very strong, and he put his arms around her.

  “I’m tired,” he said. “Oh, God, I’m tired.”

  Katherine was in a daze. She stood there with Justin’s arms around her, with Justin leaning against her, and suddenly her mind stopped being fuzzy and warm and felt very clear and cold and empty. Then she said, “I guess I drank too much wine. I feel sort of funny.”

  “I can feel your heart pounding,” Justin said. “It’s going terribly fast.”

  “It’s the wine,” Katherine said.

  “No. I don’t think it’s the wine.” He bent down and kissed her very gently, and then again, gently. “You’re very exciting, Katherine. Do you know how exciting you are?”

  “It’s the wine,” Katherine said. “I drank too much. I feel funny. I feel funny. I think I’m going to whoops.”

  “What?” He pushed her away, angry, unbelieving.

  “It’s the wine,” Katherine said. “It’s made me feel funny.”

  Justin put his hands on her shoulders. “You want to be put to bed, is that it? You want to be treated like a baby and put to bed?”

  Katherine nodded. Justin went into the bathroom and turned on the bath. He walked unsteadily. Then he stalked into his bedroom without a word. Katherine went into Anne’s room and undressed quietly in the dark without waking her. She slipped into her blue flannel bathrobe, put her pajamas over her arm, and went into the bathroom. When she came out, Justin was standing in the living room in his night clothes.

  “All ready?” he asked. She nodded. “Come here,” he said. She went up to him and he put his arms around her again. “You’re very comforting, little one,” he said. “You’re very comforting.”

  “Oh—”

  “You’ve got such a strong, firm little body. I like the feel of it against mine.”

  Katherine let him lean against her for a long time. Then she said, “My feet are cold.”

  Justin looked down at Katherine’s feet, still red from the hot bath. “My poor baby, of course they are. You should be wearing slippers. Come and sit on the sofa and tuck your feet under you.” He led her over to the sofa and she sat down, and he sat down beside her.

  “I think I’d better go to bed,” she said. “I still feel funny. It’s the wine.”

  “I don’t want you to go. I don’t want you to go yet. I don’t want to be left alone. Don’t go just yet.”

  “All right.”

  He kissed her again, still very gently. “Let me sleep with you. Come on, let me lie near you.”

  Katherine looked at him, at the tight lines of his face, the tenseness of his mouth, his gray-blue eyes, suddenly unguarded and unhappy.

  “Come on. Let me lie with you. Just for fun,” he said.

  “I think I’d better go to bed,” Katherine repeated. “I still feel funny. It’s the wine.” She rose and turned toward Anne’s room, and Justin let her go. He stood watching her.

  “We won’t frighten Katherine any more. We’ll go to bed, and we won’t frighten Katherine any more,” he said.

  She went into Anne’s room and climbed into the small cot by the window and waited. She was afraid he would come in. Of course he wouldn’t, with Anne asleep in the room. But she was afraid he would come. She lay on her back, every muscle tense, and waited. She wanted desperately to have him come.—He’s got to come. Please let him come and speak to me. Don’t let everything be ruined. It wasn’t me. He didn’t know it was me. It wasn’t me he kissed. I was just someone. I was just the person who was there. It would have been whoever was there. It wasn’t because it was me. Please make him come in. Please make him come. Don’t let it be spoiled. I’ll die if he should hate me. Please make him come.—

  She heard him go into his room and slam his door. And still she waited. She slipped out of bed, went into the living room again, and crouched down by the fire. She waited there for a long time, until she started drowsing off and waking up again when a log fell, thinking that Justin was coming and everything would be all right. Finally she got up and went back to bed and curled up into a tight little ball for warmth, because inside her she felt very cold; and at last she fell asleep.

  She didn’t sleep long. She woke up early and lay quietly in bed. After a while Anne got up and dressed in the living room in order not to wake her, and left.

  Katherine sat up in bed and put on her bathrobe. She felt the same way she had felt one morning waiting for Julie to come in. But Justin didn’t come. After a while she got up and dressed. The clock on the mantel said nine-thirty. She found a piece of paper and a pencil and wrote on it, “I can make the ten o’clock train, so I think I’d better go back to school. I have my carfare and my ticket, so don’t worry. Thank you ever so much and please thank Anne for me too. Katherine.”

  She looked around for a place where Justin would be sure to see the note, and finally left it on the piano.

  She went into school through the back gate, and in through the cloakroom. She was just in time for Latin class, and she slipped into her seat without attracting attention.

  The rest of Tuesday, and all of Wednesday, and Thursday until time for her piano lesson had a completely nightmare quality. As the time drew near for her lesson, she was so nervous that her hands were cold and clammy, and she had to clasp them tightly together to keep them from trembling. She stood outside the studio for several minutes before she could gather courage to knock. Penelope Deerenforth was at the piano, playing a Handel Minuet, competently, but without the least imagination. Katherine stood leaning against the window until she had finished, watching Justin. His face was expressionless. Pen said good-bye to Justin, smiled a little self-consciously, and left.

  “Hello—” Katherine said.

  “Hello, Katherine.” He smiled at her, a purely impersonal smile. “The summer holidays are nearly here, and I shall be leaving, and I’d like
to get you started on some new things before I go. Here are some Shpstakovitch Waltzes, more Chopin Etudes, Beethoven’s Fifth Concerto, and I think you might as well do this Bach Toccata and Fugue. Bach is certainly your strong point, and there’s no reason to slight him. I thought you also might like to work on this Kermesse Suite of your father’s. That’s a lot of stuff, and I’ll only be able to start you on it all, but I thought you would probably like to crowd as much as you can into these last few weeks.”

  “Yes, I would,” Katherine said, and they settled down to work. She knew now that he would never mention the night in Territet. And neither would she.

  It happened that Justin’s last lesson before the summer holidays and his departure for Paris was with Katherine. She came to his studio as usual in her regulation blue tunic and white blouse; her long, heavy braids were not pinned up as they had been the day she went to Territet, but somehow she did not look like a child.

  Justin looked at her. “You’ve grown older.”

  “Have I?” she asked, and she was angry because she was breathless. She always seemed to be breathless when Justin spoke to her, and she was sure it made her sound wishy-washy and indeterminate.

  “Yes. You’ve grown older. What’s happened?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.”

  “Who’s hurt you?”

  “Oh, no one.”

  “You’re not telling the truth, are you?”

  “No one’s hurt me.”

  He didn’t say anything more until the end of the lesson. Then he said, “Well, this is good-bye, Katherine.”

  “Yes.” She couldn’t take her eyes off him; she had to stare at him, to look until the last possible moment.

  He saw the misery in her eyes. “What is it?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I’ll miss my lessons with you.”

  “I’ll miss them, too.”

  “You keep on working hard and get out of this place as soon as you can.”

  “I will.”

  “Are you going to London for your holidays?”

  “No.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Aunt Manya’s finished her play, and she isn’t going to do another one till autumn, and she’s taken a villa in France, above Thônon, because she says it will be a good place for Father to compose.”