“What are you doing here?” Suzy asked rather sharply.
“Waiting to take Fatty home. Ma doesn’t want her on the subway alone.”
Suzy’s manner softened. “Do you want to come in and wait?”
Topaze shook his head. “Too hot. Just wanted to say good night to the music lady.”
“Good night, Topaze,” Katherine said, and he bowed, deeply, then moved away from them onto the grass.
“Poor kid,” Suzy said. “He quite often walks Emily home from school in a funny, protective, old-fashioned way. And I’m grateful to him for that.” She opened the glass doors to Cathedral House and a blast of hot air rushed out at them. “The office air-conditioners are off for the weekend. Sorry. It’s fairly comfortable once we get up to the apartment.”
“After climbing Mount Everest,” Mimi said. “You go on up, Suzy. We old folks will take it more slowly.”
“You go on, too,” Katherine urged. “You’re used to dashing up and down stairs at Tenth Street. Felix and I will climb at a pace suited to our exalted age.”
At the first landing, Felix stopped to mop his brow. “How did you like my homily?”
“It made me believe that you were truly a bishop.”
He laughed ruefully. “Is it so difficult?”
“Not difficult at all. And I liked what you said. It reminded me of Wolfi.”
“Thank you.” Felix bowed slightly. “Thank you, my dear. You couldn’t say anything that would please me more. I’m glad you had a chance to see me functioning, at least a little.”
They started up again, and at the second landing Felix paused once more. Despite Katherine’s arthritic knees, the stairs were not as hard on her as they were on Felix. Rather curiously she asked, “How on earth did Mrs. Gomez come to cook for the Undercrofts?”
Felix said carefully, “She is a magnificent cook.”
He was prevaricating. “How did they find her?”
Again carefully, Felix said, “The cook Yolande had returned to South America, and she needed someone.”
“So how did she find Mrs. Gomez?”
“People who can afford servants know where to ask around, and I think Yolande’s old cook knew Mrs. Gomez, who is, I must say, a far better cook. However, according to Emily, Mrs. Gomez got fired from her last job because she hit one of the children in the family.”
“How would Emily know that?”
“I suspect Tory told her. Little pitchers have big ears. We’d better start climbing again, or they’ll be sending out a rescue party for us.”
And indeed, Jos and John were coming down the stairs, offering help.
“We’re slow,” Felix said, “but like the proverbial tortoise we get there, and without any help from you young hares.”
He had been holding out on her, Katherine thought, though she was not sure why she was so certain about this. But there was more to Mrs. Gomez coming to work for the Undercrofts than that they needed a cook.
Dean Davidson had changed to blue jeans and a striped T-shirt; he had cooked the dinner, some kind of Spanish stew with beans and sausages and vegetables, rather highly spiced. Katherine was glad she had a hearty digestion. She sat at his right during the meal and relaxed into the general noise of family dinner-table conversation. Emily and Tory argued until Suzy threatened to send them from the table. Jos prodded his mother into telling him, in detail, about some complicated emergency heart surgery she had performed that morning. Felix and the dean, ignoring the rest of the conversation, began discussing who would be elected the new suffragan bishop.
“It will be hard to find someone with Merv’s irenic qualities,” the dean said, “and a peacemaker is what we need in this diocese.”
“Mother Cat is generally popular,” Felix said.
“True, but I doubt very much she’d accept being put up for election. St. Andrew’s is very dear to her heart.”
“Sister Mary Anna is an excellent headmistress and takes care of most of the administrative work.”
“Also true. But Mother Cat wants nothing to do with ecclesiastical politics.”
“They’ll ask her to run, anyhow,” Felix said.
The dean smiled at Katherine. “One thing that kept me from the Church for a long time was all this politicking, but I suspect you don’t escape it anywhere.”
She nodded. “But I was lucky. My husband, and then my manager, kept me out of it.”
“We’ve discussed it enough for tonight. The subject’s going to be around until autumn when we have Diocesan Convention. This is not going to be an easy election. In one of C. P. Snow’s novels there’s the very political election of a new master of a college, and one of the dons says, ‘I want a man who knows something about himself. And is appalled. And has to forgive himself to get along.’”
5
“Now.” The dean clapped his hands for attention. “Let’s get organized so that we can make music.” With a wave of his arm he swept everybody from the table, shouting out instructions. Jos and John did the dishes, while the little girls prepared coffee, and then they all assembled in the airy living room. Katherine was placed in one of the comfortable chairs by the fireplace, where she waited expectantly.
John was as good as she had hoped he would be. She heard Dave murmur to his wife, “John approaches the violin the way I approach the chalice and paten.”
Felix’s playing was better than Katherine had anticipated. His technique was rusty, but he handled the bow well, and his tone was clear. Dave played the English horn as though pouring through it all the pain and loneliness of his life, of the lives of everyone around him, everyone surrounding the Cathedral. After a certain amount of badgering by Felix, he played the overture to the third act of Tristan.
“That does something to me,” Mimi said. “I’d like to put my head down and howl.”
“Let’s have something cheerful.” Dave took sheaves of music from a mahogany rack. “Something we can all play. Warm up your recorders, Suzy, Tory, Jos. Here, let’s tackle this Vivaldi, and then we can try some Diabelli.”
The three recorder players were adequate, though certainly no more than that. Dave had switched from the horn to the flute and murmured that his lips were out of shape, but he played well. Emily, accompanying, was tense, scowling at the music. She played with precision, and she listened, Katherine noted, to the other instruments. But whether or not she had the same kind of talent that John did was impossible to tell from her accompanying.
Then, without warning, Emily banged her fists down on the keys with a loud discord, shouted, “It’s intolerable! I’m playing horribly!” and stormed out of the room. In the distance came the sound of sobbing and banging.
“Leave her,” Dave said to Suzy.
“How can she be so awful?” Tory demanded indignantly.
Felix started to rise.
“No, Bishop,” Dave said. “Don’t go in to her.”
“But she’s in pain—”
“Not really—” Mimi started.
Felix cut in, “I didn’t mean physically.”
“Please, Bishop,” Dave restrained him.
“I do apologize,” Suzy murmured.
“Let’s get on with the music,” John said.
Jos looked at his recorder. “Em’s temper’s never been the best, but lately it’s been getting out of hand. Why do you let her get away with it?”
“I don’t think we’re letting her get away with it,” Suzy demurred.
“My dears.” Felix held up his hand for silence. “Don’t you see what Emily is doing?”
“No,” Tory said.
“What, Bishop, please?” John asked. “She’s always had a quick temper, but since her accident—”
“Since her accident she’s been spoiled rotten,” Tory said.
“Hey, hold it, Tory,” John warned. “You used to be the spoiled baby and you resent—”
Again Felix held up his hand. “Children. Quiet. Your parents have not spoiled Emily, nor have you. But she’s an
gry. Wouldn’t you be?”
Tory scowled. “Sure, but I wouldn’t take it out on everybody.”
“You would if your talent—that which is death to hide—had been taken away in one instant.”
Tory looked sullen. “Since I don’t have any particular talent, I wouldn’t know.”
“Tory,” Suzy remonstrated.
John repeated, “Hold it.” He looked directly at Katherine. “Uncle Bishop is right, Madame Vigneras, Em was terrified this evening. She knows she can’t ever dance again, but she doesn’t know whether or not she can play the piano. Can she?”
Katherine returned his gaze. “I don’t know, John. I couldn’t tell enough from her accompanying. One thing I do know, she has the artist’s drive. And I’ve seen one talent destroyed and the drive turned in another direction. When she has her program worked up I will listen to it, but I will not insult her by making a decision on the basis of this evening.”
“Thank you,” Dave said. “Some people tend to be sentimental where Emily is concerned, and she sees through it immediately. I’m not happy about her explosions, but I think she has a certain amount of cause.”
“And you leave her alone,” Mimi agreed. “That’s the best way of handling a tantrum. Pay it no attention.”
“Well—” Suzy sighed and turned to Katherine. “You’ve certainly seen us naked and unadorned.”
“I have children and grandchildren,” Katherine said. “And I agree with Felix and Mimi—and John—about Emily.”
“Right,” Dave said. “Shall we get back to some music?”
“How can we,” Jos asked, “without Em?”
“Shall I try to get her to come out?” Suzy suggested.
“No.” Mimi spoke quickly.
Again Suzy sighed. “As a mother I leave a great deal to be desired. I’m away from my children—at the hospital too much—”
“We like you the way you are,” John said. “Part-time you is better than most full-time mothers I know.”
“Thanks, John, that’s balm to my heart. But if we’re to go on playing, shouldn’t I—”
“No.” Katherine eased herself out of the chair with the help of her stick. “I’ll accompany.”
She was not accustomed to accompanying, and she found it a challenge to listen to the others, to try to guide them. Tory had a tendency to accelerate, so Katherine emphasized the beat and the melody until the child had checked herself.
“Oh, wow,” Tory said when the suite was over, everyone finishing more or less at the same time. “That was terrific. I could feel myself speeding up and then Madame Vigneras pulled me back. And I never understood that sort of hiccupy—”
“Syncopated,” John supplied.
“Yes, that part.”
Dave set more music on the piano, in the stands. “Just one more. That is, if you can bear it, Madame.”
“One more. I’m enjoying it, but it’s getting late.” Katherine looked at the music. “Good. I’m moderately familiar with this. My eyes are no longer what they used to be for sight-reading.”
“A lot better than mine,” Felix said. “We haven’t played that for ages and I fumbled all over the place.”
She smiled at him. “You’re not half bad, Felix. Ready?”
He pushed his half-moon spectacles into place. “It’s hot. They always slide when it’s hot. Yes, let’s go on.”
While they were playing, Emily came back and sat on the sofa beside Mimi, not speaking. Mimi patted her gently, and continued listening to the music.
When they had finished, Emily rose and went to Katherine. “I’m sorry. It was extremely discourteous of me to fly off the handle like that.”
Katherine regarded her, nodding acknowledgment. This apology was not coming easily.
“I have an absolutely vile temper,” Emily continued. “I’m sorry it got out of control, everyone, truly I am.”
“We missed you,” Felix said. “You cover up for my mistakes better than Katherine does.”
“You didn’t make mistakes—” Tory started.
Felix said, “Where we really missed you, Emily, was in the ballet music, because you play that with more authority than anyone else. Which makes me think—don’t you have a ballet dancer as one of your tenants, Katherine?”
Katherine had almost forgotten about Dorcas and her problems. For a moment it seemed to her to be heartlessly tactless of Felix to bring her up, but then she realized that to refuse to talk about ballet with Emily was as stupid as refusing to talk about someone who has died. “Yes. Dorcas Gibson. But she isn’t dancing now, she’s pregnant.”
“Very pregnant?” Tory asked with interest.
“Very visibly pregnant, at any rate. Do you know her, Emily? Was she in your company?”
“Yes, but we kids didn’t see much of the real company—except those who teach in the school. During the Nutcracker, I got to know her a bit a couple of years ago when I was dancing Klara, the little girl, and she was the Sugar Plum Fairy. I wasn’t supposed to dance Klara—it was a girl a year older, but I’d been told I’d have a chance the next year. But she got a stress fracture in her foot the day before the opening, and I slid into the role. A good thing, because I couldn’t have done it the next year.” Her voice was factual, with no residue of self-pity. “Dorcas is nice. She talked with us kids, and told us stories about when she’d been in the school, and she helped me with a couple of steps where I was getting out of rhythm. I like her. I hope she has a nice baby.”
“Is her husband a dancer?” Tory asked.
“He’s a banker or lawyer or something gross like that,” Emily said.
“What’s he like?”
“He’s a turd,” Emily stated categorically.
“Emily!” Suzy protested.
“Don’t you mean a nerd?” Jos suggested.
“Turd.”
The air was becoming charged again. Felix said, “Did you know that once upon a time, thousands of years ago, I played the violin in a nightclub in the Village? I was awful, but it was all that kept me from starvation for a full season. Now, children, it’s past my bedtime.” He wrapped his violin in a white silk scarf before tucking it in its case.
Mimi rose. “Bedtime for us, too.” She glanced at Katherine. “I have to be at work early tomorrow morning.”
“As do we all,” Suzy said. “Dave has been known to throw people out who haven’t left at what he considers a suitable hour.”
Emily let out a guffaw. “One time he left the room and came back in his pajamas, carrying his toothbrush.”
“Don’t tell Madame Vigneras all my secrets.” The dean turned to Katherine and Mimi. “I’ll drive you home.”
“No, Dave. You or the boys walk us to Broadway and see us into a cab.”
The dean walked with them and stayed till he’d closed the door of their taxi.
6
As they neared Tenth Street, Mimi suggested, “How about a back rub?”
“I’d love it. But, as you said, you have to be up early.”
“I’m wound up. It’ll help me unwind. Take your bath and I’ll be down.”
Katherine, too, was wound up. Emily had touched her more with her outburst than with her calm courage. The child was going to attack life like an eagle; but a one-taloned eagle is woefully vulnerable.
—And no one can help her, she thought,—as no one could help me. We’re on our own. No wonder I yell for a God I do not understand in times of stress. Every time I’ve tried to depend on a human being it’s been disastrous.
She took her bath and lay down on her bed, waiting for Mimi.
The cardinal, her idol. She had gone running to Wolfi. He would tell her what to do, would make it, somehow, all right.
But he couldn’t. She had been a blind fool. He had no answers for her. The carved wood statue of the Virgin had no answers.
She had left the lights and shadows of Wolfi’s cathedral and told the chauffeur she wanted to walk. She moved blindly through the streets. Munich had becom
e a familiar city, but she recognized nothing. She groped in her handbag for her dark glasses, as though they would disguise her pain, and walked directly into Lukas.
Not yet Lukas. Into Kommandant von Hilpert.
He caught her and held her. ‘Madame Vigneras!’ In prison he had called her Katherine.
‘Kommandant von—’
‘Nein. Herr Hilpert. Lukas. Please, Lukas. You are trembling, you are cold, you need coffee.’ Without hesitation he took her arm, led her along the street, around a corner, into a small cafe. He seated her and ordered coffee, ‘Mit Schlag ober, and pastries.’ He looked across the table at her. ‘I thought never to see you again.’
‘I’m sorry …’ She was still half in shock, and seeing Lukas von Hilpert was almost as shocking as the cardinal’s proposal.
‘What is it?’
‘Nothing,’ she said quickly. ‘I was just—very depressed.’
He rested his hands on the table. She noticed that he wore a wedding band. ‘Were you? So was I. It has been a dull day. Until now. But why are you in Munich? I saw no notice of a concert.’
‘I came to see Cardinal von Stromberg.’ So unused was she to evasions that she blurted out the truth.
‘And have you seen the eminent cardinal?’
‘He wasn’t there.’ Nor was he, the great éminence grise she had been running to see, the marble statue who had never existed except in her own imagination, the earthly father who would make all things well.
‘My wife is one of his many admirers,’ Lukas said, and dismissed him. ‘I have been to your concerts. How you have matured in your playing!’
‘Thank you.’
‘I wanted, but I did not presume, to come backstage.’
She nodded. She would not have been pleased to see him. She did not understand why she was pleased to see him now.
‘Your husband’s music is played frequently.’
‘Yes, he is becoming a fine composer.’
‘He is all right?’
‘Moderately. He was tortured at Auschwitz.’
He made an anguished face. ‘I did not know. There was much that I did not know when I talked to you in that funny school building outside Paris.’
A Severed Wasp Page 25
