“Yes,” she replied after a moment’s hesitation. “very much.”
“That’s nice. So, now we can move on to the stories.” He indicated one of the two empty armchairs. “May I?”
She watched in bewilderment as he sat down without waiting for her permission.
“The stories?” she repeated after he had settled in his chair.
“Yes. The stories that go with this tea. You took the tea made of stories, didn’t you?”
She wanted to say she hadn’t imagined it would be like that, but then it would look like she hadn’t known what she was ordering and this would only compound her distress. She had no idea what was to follow, but there was no turning back. Just see what the desire to do something reckless had brought her.
“Of course,” she agreed.
The waiter coughed slightly, like an actor clearing his throat before going onstage, and then began.
“Up until the thirty-third execution, the executioner had successfully performed his duty. He belonged to a respected family of executioners that had been doing this responsible job impeccably for six generations. There had never been any complaints about their work; they had even been decorated for their exceptional devotion and diligence during periods of great social upheaval. Families of the convicted would write sometimes and thank them for the skill with which they’d despatched their loved ones from this world with the least possible suffering.
“A veil of secrecy surrounded the reason why the youngest scion of this honorable family tree suddenly decided to break with their glorious tradition. He refused to offer any explanation, thus his reasons could only be surmised. The last execution he’d performed was thought to have influenced his choice, although he couldn’t have been particularly affected by the elimination of a baby-faced hardened criminal who had mercilessly killed eleven librarians, first forcing them to put on firefighting uniforms and read the same excerpt from an ancient epic, while he accompanied them on the harp, wearing diving equipment.
“It was also conjectured that the fact that he’d recently joined an association to protect white bear cubs had influenced his decision to leave his profession. This had allegedly dulled the insensitivity that is a characteristic of every good executioner, but that wasn’t very convincing either. It is a well-known fact that compassion for animals usually does not go hand in hand with compassion for humans. Haven’t most of those who’ve left the bloodiest trails behind them been remembered for their touching gentleness towards some cat, dog, horse, parrot or crocodile?
“Be that as it may, the executioner withdrew to a tuberculosis sanatorium in the mountains even though he was perfectly healthy. That is when he started to collect rare mountain flora. The head nurse supported him in his efforts, as she herself was an amateur botanist. Sometimes, when she was not on duty, she would take long walks with him across the slopes and peaks and they would return with a multitude of new specimens for their herbariums.
“Rumors about a sentimental attachment between them inevitably spread through the sanatorium, but they paid no attention, offering no grounds for this gossip in their public behavior. nothing can be said for sure, of course, as to whether or not anything happened when they were out of the doctors’ and patients’ sight. If it did, it was very discreet, as befits such a highly dignified institution. Everything might have been disclosed in the end if it weren’t for an unfortunate incident that thwarted the would-be lovers.
“When one of the patients, a retired mining professor, found out that in spite of everything there was no hope and he had only a few weeks left to live, he became gravely concerned about the fate of the large hoard of napkins that he’d been collecting since he was a schoolboy. Since he had no heir, he had no one to leave it to. He wrote to various museums, offering his collection free of charge, even including his considerable savings to maintain it. For the most part there were no replies, and those he did receive hurt him with their indifference and often unconcealed disdain.
“In the throes of a nervous breakdown, without considering the consequences, the professor put all his napkins in the middle of his room and set them on fire. The fire blazed into a fury and quickly spread to the neighboring rooms, then engulfed the whole floor and finally the entire sanatorium, an old building without proper fire precautions. In the chaos that ensued, all efforts were focused on saving the helpless patients, so what the executioner did passed almost unnoticed.
“When it was already too late to stop him, he was seen rushing into the flaming building. By some miracle he made his way to his room on the first floor and threw a bunch of herbarium tanks through the closed window. In spite of everyone’s exhortations to jump and save himself even at the risk of injury, he went back for the rest of the herbarium tanks, although tongues of fire were already flickering all around him.
“Nothing else came flying out the window and he did not appear at it again. The sanatorium burned to the ground. The remains of eight bodies were found in the charred ruins. This, however, did not agree with the number who had disappeared, which was nine. After great effort, when they identified the burned bodies, it turned out that the only one to disappear without a trace was the executioner. It was concluded that his body had been vaporized in the fire, and he was officially declared dead.”
Finishing the story, the waiter bowed briefly. Miss Greta was tempted to applaud, but held back, returning his bow with a smile. This was the kind of story she liked best—romantic and mysterious. True, there had been too much violence in it for her taste, the hero shouldn’t have been an executioner exactly, and many people had died in the fire, but she shouldn’t grumble. After all, it was only a story.
She was no longer sorry she’d ordered this tea. What a wonderfully clever idea it was to offer a good story along with an equally good drink. The only pity was that it had been so short. She wondered what would happen if she ordered another one. Did the waiter have a new story for every new cup of tea? First she had to finish the one in front of her as it would be inconsiderate not to do so, even though it had most likely cooled off while she was listening to the story. She lifted the cup and took a long sip, surprised to find that it was still quite hot.
“Wonderful,” said the waiter when the cup was on the saucer once again. “So now we may continue.”
Without giving an explanation, he got up and headed back to the counter. Along the way he passed the cashier, who was headed for her table. Without even asking for permission, the tall woman sat right down in the same armchair as the waiter. She took a green handkerchief from the breast pocket of her vest, removed her oversized glasses and started to wipe them. This made her chestnut brown eyes look smaller. When she put her glasses back on she didn’t start the story right away. She gazed at Miss Greta for several moments, as though looking through her.
“After the calamity in the sanatorium, the head nurse decided to change her profession. not even the avalanche of attractive offers she received after winning recognition for saving the patients from the fire could dissuade her from this decision. She withdrew from the world for several weeks and when she came back she was like a different person. Everything about her had changed: the raven-haired woman had become a blond, her classically-cut dark dresses were replaced by striking leather suits in bright colors, and instead of being modest and gentle she was sharp and gruff.
“But the biggest surprise was her choice of new profession. She became a stuntwoman, showing an acrobatic agility and courage that were unimaginable even to those who knew her best. She was
undaunted by the most perilous assignments and soon the best film directors started to ask for her. A brilliant career awaited her, but then something happened that made her cut it short.
“The assignment was to shoot down a dangerous waterfall with two other stuntpeople in a rubber boat. All protective measures were taken and the scene had been gone over in detail, but the security cable snapped during filming. Instead of being held back, the boat and its occupants ended u
p on the rocks at the bottom of the waterfall. By some miracle, the former nurse was the only one to survive, suffering just minor scratches.
“The investigation that was conducted established that it had not been an accident as first thought. The cable hadn’t snapped, it had been cut. Who had done it remained a mystery, although the two people who died turned out to have a motive. They were actually part of a strange love triangle. He was obsessively in love with the new stuntwoman, even though she rejected his advances unrelentingly, while she was jealous of her, convinced that she’d stolen the man she loved so desperately.
“Once again the nurse turned stuntwoman withdrew for a long time and came back drastically changed. Her blond hair was now red, light sportswear replaced the leather suits, and her behavior changed accordingly—she was cheerful and coquettish. The change in profession was also a surprise. She joined a traveling circus.
“First she tried a number of secondary jobs. She took care of the books, looked after the trained animals and was makeup artist for the clowns. She might not have advanced if it weren’t for two young illusionists who came to the circus and needed an assistant. They said they were brother and sister, although their behavior was suspicious from the outset. They were demonstratively tender with each other and often held hands, so rumors started to circulate that they were lovers who had a reason to lay low or, worse yet, that they were having an incestuous affair. But since their act soon became the hit of the show, no one made an issue out of it.
“All of their acts were brilliant, but the one in which the former nurse took part won the greatest acclamation. A glass box resembling a sarcophagus filled with water was placed in the middle of the circus ring. The assistant, dressed in a turquoise one-piece swimsuit, would take a deep breath and plunge into the water. The box was closed and locked with huge padlocks and then the two illusionists threw a turquoise cloth over it. The suspenseful moments that followed were accompanied by appropriate tension-inducing music. When the audience was already fidgeting fretfully, the cloth was removed, revealing the empty sarcophagus with the padlocks still in place. That same moment there would be a fanfare of trumpets, the curtain would open and the assistant would run into the ring, completely dry, to the audience’s thunderous ovation.
“Unfortunately, after the seventeenth performance this act, along with all the others put on by the young illusionists, was removed from the program. Something inexplicable happened that made them leave the circus. After their departure it was said that just before the strange event relations between the brother and sister had suddenly cooled. They stopped holding hands and were overheard quarrelling in low voices. It was even said that tears were seen in the brother’s eyes. These stories, however, were not to be trusted.
“One thing set the seventeenth performance apart from the previous ones. When the fanfare sounded, no one appeared from behind the curtain. Everyone except the illusionists was surprised. They alone remained unruffled, as though everything was perfectly fine. There was another fanfare, but again no one ran out before the audience. The failure might not have been so complete if news about the act hadn’t spread, with the result that the audience knew what to expect. The mysterious disappearance of the assistant from the sarcophagus was certainly striking in itself, but her absence at the end caused first a commotion and then a great chorus of whistles. It almost closed the entire show.
“After the show was over, everyone set out in search of the former stuntwoman, but in vain. She had disappeared as though the earth had swallowed her up. The brother and sister were questioned but claimed to know nothing of her fate. They denied having anything to do with the unpleasant event, indicating that the assistant might have been dissatisfied with her secondary role and this had led her to leave.
“The ringmaster briefly thought of notifying the police, but in the end he didn’t because this would merely have saddled him with greater worries. His ears were still filled with the whistling; if the police were to start sniffing around the circus his audience would disappear entirely. In any case, no offence or crime had been committed that would require police intervention. Everyone had the right to leave the circus whenever they felt like it. In the end the two illusionists were forced to abandon the troupe. The circus lost a highly popular act, but this was the price that had to be paid.”
The cashier bowed at the end just as the waiter had. This time Miss Greta had to clap, although she did it almost soundlessly, barely putting her palms together. The story seemed tailor-made for her—full of romantic suggestions and secrets, without too much violence. True, two of the main characters had died in the stunt episode, but this seemed unavoidable. If it was any consolation, love had guided them to their deaths. Love was also in the background of the circus event. She was curious to find out more about the relationship between the brother and sister, and of course what had happened to their assistant.
She thought of asking the cashier, who remained at the table after the end of the story. There certainly must be a continuation, particularly since the first two stories were connected. And then she remembered that she hadn’t had to ask for anything the last time. If she was not mistaken, it had been enough to take a sip of tea to get a new story. perhaps it might work again. It wouldn’t hurt to try. And she had to finish the tea anyway.
Swallowing a new sip, she wondered who would talk this time. Probably the waiter. The easiest thing would be to take turns until the customer drank all the tea. After all, they weren’t professional actors accustomed to giving long performances, although they certainly were deserving of praise. They were very skilled at storytelling, letting the listener enter easily into the spirit of the tale. They must have acquired this skill through frequent repetitions. Tea made of stories was undoubtedly a favorite in this teashop.
But when the cashier bowed once again and headed back towards the cash register, Miss Greta had a surprise in store. She watched in bewilderment as the young couple sitting at the table by the window approached her instead of the waiter. Smiling, they sat in the two armchairs without saying a word. There was no time to think about this unusual turn of events because the young man started the story right away.
“After they left the circus, the two illusionists split up. He found work as a cook on a luxury ocean liner. During one of the cruises through tropical seas he met the rich young widow of a notorious arms merchant who had died when a stray golf ball hit him clean in the temple. For some time the tabloids played up the story, claiming it hadn’t exactly been an accident, but if there were any conspiracy it was soon covered up.
“The cook attracted the widow’s attention with an excellent soup composed of mushrooms, figs and snails that he made from an ancient recipe that was said to have a strong aphrodisiac effect. She asked to meet him, and when he was brought before her he captivated her at first glance. She continued to see him under various pretexts, always leaving large tips, even when there was no reason.
“Her attempts to lure him into her cabin, however, met with failure for a long time. The ship’s crew was strictly forbidden from any sort of fraternizing with the passengers, and entering their cabins was considered a particularly serious offence. nonetheless, on the penultimate evening of the cruise the widow’s intentions finally succeeded thanks to her cunning and to alcohol that the young cook was unaccustomed to drinking.
“No one knows for sure what happened that night in the cabin. When the maid entered in the morning she found him sound asleep on the floor, while the widow lay dead in the bed. The ship’s doctor established that she had died of a heart attack, so he could not be blamed for her death. Even so, he lost his job on the spot and disembarked at the next port.”
At this point, the young man turned towards the girl and nodded. She nodded in return and took up the story.
“After leaving the circus, the sister illusionist found work as a restorer in a museum. She soon caught the eye of the director, who had a bad reputation as a womanizer. Behind him were four broke
n marriages and seven daughters, as well as numerous adventures, but this did not stop him from new entanglements, even though he was no longer a spring chicken.
“The restorer coldly rejected his advances, but this only made the director more resolute. In the end, when it was clear that he would fail, he resorted to the last means available, something that had yet to let him down. He accused the restorer of doing an unprofessional job and threatened to fire her unless she satisfied his desires.
“She protested, informing him that she had just made a discovery that would not only prove her professionalism but also make her famous. Working on a late renaissance canvas, she came to the realization that it was some sort of palimpsest. Underneath it was a considerably older work by a famous master from the end of the Middle Ages that had been considered lost forever. She invited the director to be the first one to see this painting under a painting.
“Not suspecting anything, the director rushed to see it, already devising plans on how to take credit for the discovery. But what he saw turned him numb. The original painting portrayed a scene from hell. A monstrous devil was taking great relish in torturing a sinner who had spent his life in vicious debauchery. When he looked at the sinner’s face more closely, it was like looking into a mirror. By some miracle the old master had depicted his face to perfection.
“At that moment something seemed to break inside the director. Instead of firing the innocent restorer, he resigned immediately and soon retired to a remote monastery where he lived in extreme abstinence from all physical pleasure, outshining many of the ascetics in this regard. As a sign of recognition, the restorer was offered his position, but she refused without an explanation and left the museum too.”
The young girl and boy nodded to each other once again, then he took up the relay.
“The former ship’s cook soon got into trouble in the port. He was sitting by himself at a table in a disreputable tavern when a bunch of noisy, drunken sailors burst in. They started to pester the guests, pouncing in particular on the pretty, young and timid tavern maid. They heckled and pinched her aggressively, and when one of them, who was exceedingly arrogant, grabbed the girl by the hand and pulled her onto his lap, trying to kiss her by force, the former illusionist could no longer sit there indifferently. He jumped up to protect the poor girl.
Twelve Collections and the Teashop Page 8
