Old Blood - A Novella (Experiment in Terror #5.5)

by Karina Halle

  I placed the costume in his hands and headed for the door.

  “Call me when you are properly attired,” I said and stepped out into the hallway, shutting the door behind me.

  I let out the breath I was holding and shook out my arms and legs. He was already doing a number on me. Still, I showed him I wasn’t going to fall for any lothario type advances. This was my job and I had to treat it as such.

  That didn’t stop me from grinning to myself until I heard him call me back in.

  He looked rather ridiculous in the costume. It was all green. The velvet robe, the high-waisted pants, the shirt. Even the pointy shoes.

  “How is it?” he asked as he eyed himself suspiciously in the mirror.

  “You look like a tree,” the words escaped my lips.

  I thought he would take offense to that. If it had been Frederick, I would have never heard the end of it and he would have probably demanded some other woman work on him, one who didn’t compare him to plants. But Ludie wasn’t like that.

  Ludie laughed. It was loud and calming at the same time. Uninhibited.

  “You’re quite right Pippa, I do look like a tree,” he twirled around so we could get the full effect of the cape. He paused and pondered his reflection. “But what kind of tree? That is the most important question. What kind of tree would Hamlet be…or not to be?”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at his corny joke. “That is the question.”

  After that, things got easier between us. I should say it got easier after I poked him in the eye with my makeup brush. I felt so terrible about it but Ludie said the only way he wouldn’t tell Lisbeth that the makeup artist tried to blind him was if I agreed to go out for dinner with him the next night, before the round of shows began.

  You know I said yes.

  I won’t go into too much detail for the sake of you both. I know the last things you want to hear about are the sordid thoughts and actions of this woman in love. Yet, I also want you to understand just what Ludie did to me – and why our affair would affect me for the rest my life.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Needless to say, I was fretting about the apartment all of the next day. I hadn’t been with a man in years and part of me was afraid that it would be just like the time with Stäva. That I would feel nothing and, because of that, there would be something very wrong with me.

  The other part of me was excited, a feeling that was scary in its own right. What if I fell for this man? What if he broke my heart? What if the date went wrong and he never wanted to see me again and I’d have to spend the rest of my career working under him?

  Luckily, Anne was around to talk me down and make sure I had enough to eat. She dressed me up in the finest dress I had, one I had snatched from the theatre, and for once I had my own hair and make-up done. I wanted to wear my hair down – it was long and shiny– but she put it up with curls which highlighted my cheekbones and eyes. She nixed my usual red lipstick in favor of something more “kissable.”

  Then she gave me a round of advice on how to be a lady. Let the man open doors for you. Laugh at his jokes. Try not to drool over him like a fool. Don’t talk down to him or poke fun of him.

  Also, when she thought I wasn’t looking, she slipped a condom into my dainty purse. I was shocked and a bit abhorred by her actions. Condoms were for sailors and dirty prostitutes. They weren’t for young ladies like myself and Anne.

  I could tell from the look in her eyes though, she was just trying to prevent another pregnancy with me. I had broken down drunk with cognac one night and told her everything that had happened. I was dying of shame still and it helped to have someone else know what I had been through. Anne was looking out for me and far ahead of her time when she whispered, “The man may rule the date, but don’t count on him for everything.”

  Truer words had never been spoken.

  Ludie rang the buzzer five minutes early, cutting into my preparedness time. I slammed back a shot of vodka hoping to relax myself in a hurry and danced on pins and needles until he arrived at the door.

  He looked absolutely gorgeous, wearing a dashing dark blue suit that illuminated the golden tones in his hair.

  “Ladies,” he said as he took off his sharp fedora and did a slight bow from the waist. “I am here for the beautiful Pippa Lindstrom.”

  Forget about the vodka – just being in his presence made me feel drunk. Thank goodness for Anne who put my coat on my back, my purse in my hands and led me to the door like an invalid.

  “I expect you’ll return her at a reasonable hour,” Anne said. Her voice was hard but her eyes were good-humored.

  “A reasonable hour by my standards or by your standards?”

  Anne pursed her lips. “Well, I’m going to guess they are the same.”

  He winked at her, happy with that response and held his arm out for me. I had enough sense and power to oblige and together we stepped out of the apartment. I looked back one last time at Anne but the door was closed and I was alone with Ludie once again, about to embark on an evening that was very much on the table. This wasn’t about work. I wasn’t with him because I had to be. I was with him because he wanted me to be.

  Outside, Ludie’s car was waiting. It wasn’t new but it was shiny and sleek like it had been painted with a million pounds of chrome. It was also sky blue and extremely eye-catching in a time where decadence and frivolity was frowned upon. Ludie didn’t care though and as I stepped into the car, he informed me that he had bought it after his first big theatre gig. It cost more than his living expenses, so at first he was sleeping in it until he could afford an apartment again. But to him, he worked hard and he deserved it and it was a sign he was living his dream.

  That was always Ludie’s philosophy in life. There was much to be admired about that, taking what you knew was yours and enjoying the finer things. Later on I would realize how selfish that way of thinking could be. Everything was always owed to him and there never were any consequences, at least not for him. If he thought he deserved something, he went for it, even if it meant trampling over other people.

  But I will get to that later. For now, I was enthralled with him and his dashing looks and mannerisms. He took me to a fine seafood restaurant on one of the upper class streets I never walked down because it inspired too much envy in me. He wasn’t recognizable yet, not the way Frederick was, but women stopped to stare at him just the same.

  They also stared at me and unlike the doe-eyed girls that fawned over Stäva in school, these were full-grown women with hearts full of jealously and hate. I was their enemy just for being on the young man’s arm and though I knew I wasn’t too bad looking myself, it brought upon feelings of being inadequate.

  Ludie did his best, however, in making me feel like I was the only one in the restaurant. He asked me many questions about myself and always kept his bright eyes tuned to mine. Oh, he wasn’t mysterious either and would gladly answer any questions I had about him. I learned about his upbringing (in Gotland), his family (father died when he was young, he was still close with his mother and two younger sisters), his love for performing arts (he was a dancer before he moved into acting). The night flew by in a whir of clinking cutlery, smoke, coffee and brandy. Our talk was easy, the flow between us was effortless. As first dates go, this one could not be topped.

  I am sure you don’t want to know how the night continued but I can tell you that I was very much a lady and I was home at a reasonable hour – even by my own watch. I burned inside for Ludie, feeling flames that I had never felt before but that night I had listened to the caution in my heart, that feeling that I had to approach things slowly and carefully.

  If only I kept on listening to the whisper inside, the one that knew of things to come. The next time Ludie and I were together we made love. Love, right in his dressing room, a ferocious and consuming sort of love making that both surprised and scared me. It turns out my fears were unfounded and there was nothing wrong with me at all. I had found the one I was meant to sp
end the rest of my life with and my body responded in kind.

  And so began our very messy, passionate affair. Things were easy at first. We couldn’t get enough of each other and were intimate every chance we got. As we would emerge from the back looking rather untidy, it soon spread like wildfire that we were an “item.” Lisbeth had a few words for me, mainly not to get too close to a man like Ludie and to be aware of our working situation, but I was reckless and stupid and didn’t listen. What did Lisbeth know about men anyway? I knew Ludie and he was mine.

  But Lisbeth was right. Ludie was a performer, an actor, and as such he not only attracted a great deal of attention from the opposite sex (indeed, the looks he got on our first date were nothing compared to the ones he received while reciting Shakespeare on stage), he was moody, selfish and insecure by nature. He demanded time and attention, not just from me, but from everyone. He was jealous of every man who talked to me, including the other actors, yet he enjoyed the flirtations of other women. He would be in a joyous, generous mood one night, and depending on how much he drank or how well his performance was perceived, he would turn angry and cynical the next.

  I wasn’t the sort of woman to take things lying down, either. Despite the rules that Anne had told me, I did often poke fun at him and I often talked down to him. It was hard not to when he was behaving like a child. What resulted were nights of constant fighting – fighting that would eventually combust when we found ourselves in each other’s arms again.

  It was push and pull, give and take, love and hate for a number of years. Despite how bad we would get on each other’s nerves, how vicious we could be with our insults, how miserable we could make each other, it never dampened the unending, all-consuming love I felt for him. The fire that roared in my loins, my heart, my soul. I believed that he felt the same way too, why else would Ludie stick around if he didn’t love me the way I loved him? I was so naïve and blind that I never really considered any other reasons.

  I discovered the reason in person one fateful summer day between shows. Her name was Hanna and she was Anne’s new understudy. I was cleaning up around the theatre, believing Ludie to have gone to a café with Peter and Lisbeth, when I heard some noises coming from his dressing room.

  To his credit, Ludie had locked the door. It was my curiosity and concern that kicked the door in anyway, especially after hearing a female’s high pitched giggles from inside.

  What I saw…I can’t even describe. I don’t even want to think about it, it still destroys me, burns my heart to this day. All these decades later and I can’t…well, all you should know is that I found Ludie with his pants down around his tanned ankles, with blonde and vivacious Hanna attending to him.

  The rest was a blur, thank the Lord. Instead of cleaning up his dressing room, I messed it up, throwing chairs, tossing about clothes and makeup. I slapped Ludie repeatedly until Hanna tried to intervene, then I hit her right in the lip. I was livid, beyond this plane of existence, I was somewhere else trying to breathe and hold onto the belief that I had love on my side. In one second it was all over. Everything I had, that was important to me, was gone. Ludie was my life and the reason my heart kept beating, the reason my soul kept soaring.

  Sadly, even after all that, even after finding out that he had been carrying on with Hanna and a few other women from time to time, he still continued to be my all. I was doomed by my love.

  I called in sick the next day and the next day after that. Anne took care of me when she could but she had to go to work – she wasn’t going to let that horrible woman take her place on stage, not after all of that. In fact, Anne was just as mad as I was, also feeling duped by Ludie and she made a vow to make his life and Hanna’s life a living hell.

  I never figured out if she did or not. Oh, Anne would tell me how she tripped up Hanna one day after rehearsal, or she openly mocked Ludie during one of their scenes. But I never saw it for myself because I quit my job. My wonderful, promising job. Oh, it wasn’t my dream of all dreams – it hadn’t got me up on the stage yet. But it kept money in my pocket and hope in my life, and I was good at it, damn it all. I was good at my job and I had to go and fall in love with a self-centered actor and spoil the whole thing.

  For the second time in my life, love had ruined me, only this time it was my own love that was at fault.

  I am more than aware of how dramatic I sound. Let’s face facts, Ludie was not the only actor here. I wasn’t on stage but I had all the desires of the craft and unfortunately the same tendencies as he did. I am sure I was as much to blame for the end of our relationship as he was. But it was a terrible ordeal nonetheless.

  Because I quit the theatre and the life I had built up steadily over the years, I had to find work elsewhere. I stayed with Anne because I had no other choice: she was my best friend and confidant and let me live with her rent free until I found a new position.

  At first I applied to other theatres, not even caring if I ended up putting makeup on Frederick again, but soon the search proved to be fruitless. It was after the war and money was still tight. Businesses were closing and people were learning how to prioritize in the wake of global turmoil. I eventually found work at a coffee shop near the ferry terminal, serving pastries, cake and caffeine to passengers bound for Finland or Denmark.

  It was thankless work but with tips it brought in more money than the theatre position, particularly as tourists would ditch their remaining kronas with me. But despite the steady income, it did nothing to fill the void in my heart.

  I worked there, feeling empty and joyless, for a few years. A year can feel like such a long time when you are young and living it, but looking back, I don’t remember a single event or day of my life during that period. Just occasional evening with Anne, listening to her talk about the newest man in her life, as we both drank more than we should. All my work days blurred into each other, an endless sea of hot brown coffee and faceless people. Such a waste of my life. Life is such a precious commodity when you’re done living it.

  Then I met Karl. Karl who was kind and warm and gentle. Karl who was tall and built like a small bear. Karl who had a dark beard and dark eyes but possessed the sunniest, lightest disposition in Sweden.

  Karl was a frequent customer to the café as he was often taking the ferry over to Tampere, Finland, to do business. He would sit at the counter and make small talk with me, always tipping generously, and when he would return from his voyages, no matter how early in the morning or late at night it was, he would bring me a Finnish Moomin toy as a present.

  As I didn’t have much going for me, I started looking forward to those visits from Karl. And I started to find Karl more and more attractive each day. It wasn’t the burning desire I felt for Ludie, nor was it the brotherly indifference I felt with Stäva. It was somewhere in between and that was finally sounding smart to me.

  Karl’s intentions were pure, honest and obvious. We started courting each other with the caution I should have taken with Ludie and soon we were an agreeable and happy pair. Karl had his own business importing caviar to other European countries and he did quite well for himself. I quit my job as he took care of me and eventually I moved out of Anne’s and into his house on the outskirts of town. We were married shortly after.

  The wedding was a very small, civil ceremony in a courthouse. Anne was my maid of honor, Lisbeth was there too and so was Peter. Karl had his older sister Lulu and a few of his employees and army buddies. I wore a simple white gown that matched the ease of the event and for our honeymoon we sunned ourselves for a week on the beaches of Spain.

  We frantically tried for a baby. I felt that because my career was a now distant dream and I had security and a reliable sense of love, that having children would be the most logical step. I felt ready for them, more than I ever had before.

  But though Karl and I were intimate as much as possible, nothing ever “stuck.” I was left feeling useless and ashamed. I worried that the abortion I had all those years ago had done some permanent
damage to my body and I blamed myself day in and day out as my monthly redness kept coming like clockwork.

  Being the good man that Karl was, he never blamed me. He was over ten years older than I and often made remarks that perhaps he was too old to become a father. I told him it was nonsense – he was older but he was a still a man and in fine shape and health. I knew it was because of me, because of the horrible choices I had made when I was younger.

  We kept trying though, year after year. The goal eventually became less important as we got older and we focused on other things in our life – for me it was watching films and sewing skirts in the latest fashions, for him it was sailing his new sailboat around the archipelago. But the urge to have a child kept building and building inside me, like tiny flames that would never fully go out.

  Eventually though, I had to give up on that like I had given up on so many things in my life. Oh, I know I sound selfish complaining about a life that most women would have been happy to have. I had a husband who loved me, whom I loved too, I didn’t have to work ever again and spent most of my days toiling around our house in the countryside or on the sailboat. But I was lonely and loneliness can do so much damage to even the hardiest individuals. Anne had married a film director and had moved to Hamburg, Germany and I had lost touch with my other friends. Only Karl’s sister Lulu would come by but even though she was pleasant company, she was too plain for my liking. There was still that part of me that craved the drama and excitement that life used to have.

  To tell you the truth, there were some days where I would pray to see Jakob again. My meetings with him had happened so long ago but there was excitement and adventure in the ghostly boy and it saddened me to think that might all be over too.

  As it was, in 1959, when I was 34 years old, my past finally came back to haunt me. Only it wasn’t Jakob. Not at first.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I was strolling through the open air market down by the docks, perusing the stands for the freshest shrimp for that night’s dinner when I heard someone call my name. It was a male voice, deep and rich but ripe with uncertainty.