The Prodigal Daughter

by Jeffrey Archer

  “I just remembered. No girl is allowed in the boys’ locker room at any time.”

  “Yes, but you’re a member of—”

  “Good night, Pete.”

  Florentyna began to enjoy the new authority and took her duties and responsibilities on the Student Council very seriously, so much so that as the year passed, Miss Tredgold feared that Florentyna’s academic work was suffering because of it. She did not comment on the matter to Mrs. Rosnovski; rather, she considered it her duty to find a solution. She hoped that Florentyna’s attitude might be nothing more than an adolescent phase of misplaced enthusiasm. Even Miss Tredgold, despite past experience of such problems, was surprised by how quickly Florentyna had changed since being entrusted with a little power.

  By the middle of the second term Miss Tredgold realized that the problem was past that stage and fast becoming out of control. Florentyna was beginning to take herself, and not her work, far too seriously. Her end-of-term report was far from good by her normal high standards, and Florentyna’s homeroom teacher more than hinted that she was becoming highhanded with some of the other students and giving out demerits a little too freely.

  Miss Tredgold could not help noticing that Florentyna had not been receiving as many invitations to parties as she had in the past and her friends did not seem to drop by Rigg Street quite so frequently, except for the loyal Edward Winchester…. Miss Tredgold liked that boy.

  Matters did not improve during the spring term and Florentyna began to be evasive when Miss Tredgold broached the subject of uncompleted homework. Zaphia, who had compensated for the loss of a husband by gaining ten pounds, was uncooperative. “I haven’t noticed anything unusual” was her only comment when Miss Tredgold tried to discuss the problem.

  Miss Tredgold pursed her lips and began to despair when one morning at breakfast Florentyna was downright rude when asked what she had planned to do for the weekend.

  “I’ll let you know if it concerns you, she said without looking up from Vogue. Mrs. Rosnovski showed no sign of noticing, so Miss Tredgold maintained a stony silence, judging that sooner or later the child was bound to discover that pride goeth before a fall.

  It came sooner.

  Chapter

  Nine

  “There’s no reason for you to be that confident,” said Edward.

  “Why? Who’s going to beat me? I’ve been on the Council for nearly a year and everyone else on it is graduating,” said Florentyna, lounging back in one of the horsehair chairs reserved for members of the Student Council.

  Edward remained standing. “Yes, I realize that, but not everyone likes you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “A lot of people think that since you’ve been on the Council, you’ve become a bit too big for your boots.”

  “I hope you’re not among them, Edward.”

  “No, I’m not. But I am worried that if you don’t bother to mix a little more with the students in the lower grades, you might be beaten.”

  “Don’t be silly. Why should I bother to get to know them when they already know me?” she asked, fiddling with some papers on the armrest of her chair.

  “What’s come over you, Florentyna? You didn’t act like this a year ago,” said Edward, looking down.

  “If you don’t like the way I carry out my duties, go and support someone else.”

  “It has nothing to do with the way you carry out your duties—everyone acknowledges you’ve been the best secretary anyone can remember—but different qualities are needed for president.”

  “Thank you for the advice, Edward, but you will discover that I can survive without it.”

  “Then you won’t want me to help you this year?”

  “Edward, you still haven’t got the message. It’s not a case of not wanting you but simply not needing you.”

  “I wish you luck, Florentyna, and I only hope I’m proved wrong.”

  “I don’t need your luck either. Some things in this life depend on ability.”

  Florentyna did not repeat this conversation to Miss Tredgold.

  At the end of the academic year, Florentyna was surprised to find that she had finished first in only Latin and French and overall had fallen to third in the class. Miss Tredgold read her report card carefully and it confirmed her worst fears, but she concluded there was no point in making any adverse comment to the child as she had stopped taking anyone’s advice unless it confirmed her own opinions. Once again, Florentyna spent the summer vacation in New York with her father, who allowed her to work as an assistant in one of the hotel shops.

  Florentyna rose early each morning and dressed in the pastel green uniform of a junior member of the hotel staff. She threw all her energy into learning how the little fashion shop was run and was soon putting forward new ideas to Miss Parker, the manager, who was impressed—and not just because she was the Baron’s daughter. As the days passed, Florentyna gained more confidence and, conscious of the power of her privileged position, she stopped wearing the shop uniform and even started to order some of the junior sales staff around. She was, however, sufficiently cautious never to do this in front of Miss Parker.

  One Friday, when Miss Parker was in her office checking the morning petty cash, Jessie Kovats, a junior sales assistant, arrived ten minutes late. Florentyna was standing at the door waiting for her.

  “You’re late again,” said Florentyna, but Jessie didn’t bother to reply.

  “Did you hear me, Miss Kovats?” demanded Florentyna.

  “Sure did,” said Jessie, hanging up her raincoat.

  “Then what is your excuse this time?”

  “For you, I don’t have to have an excuse.”

  “We’ll see about that,” said Florentyna, starting off toward Miss Parker’s office.

  “Don’t bother yourself, bossy boots. I’ve had enough of you in any case,” said Jessie, who walked into Miss Parker’s office and closed the door behind her. Florentyna pretended to be tidying the counter while she waited for Jessie to return. A few minutes later the young assistant came out of the office, put her coat back on and left the shop without another word. Florentyna felt pleased with the result of her admonition. A few minutes later Miss Parker came out of her office.

  “Jessie tells me she’s leaving the shop because of you.”

  “Miss Kovats is hardly a great loss,” volunteered Florentyna. “She didn’t exactly pull her weight.”

  “That is not the point, Florentyna. I have to continue to run this shop after you return to school.”

  “Perhaps by then we shall have weeded out the Jessie Kovatses of this world who shouldn’t, after all, be wasting my father’s time and money.”

  “Miss Rosnovski, this is a team. Not everyone can be clever and bright, or even hard-working, but within their limited abilities they do the best they can, and there have been no complaints in the past.”

  “Could that possibly be because my father is too busy to keep a watchful eye on you, Miss Parker?”

  Miss Parker visibly flushed and steadied herself on the counter. “I think the time has come for you to work in another of your father’s shops. I have served him for nearly twenty years and he has never once spoken to me in such a discourteous way.”

  “Perhaps the time has come for you to work in another shop,” said Florentyna, “and preferably not my father’s.” Walking out of the front door, she made straight for the hotel’s private elevator and pressed the button marked “42.” On arrival, Florentyna informed her father’s secretary that she needed to speak to him immediately.

  “He’s chairing a board meeting at the moment, Miss Rosnovski.”

  “Then interrupt him and tell him that I wish to see him.”

  The secretary hesitated, then buzzed through to Mr. Rosnovski.

  “I thought I told you not to disturb me, Miss Deneroff.”

  “I apologize, sir, but your daughter is here and insists on seeing you.”

  There was a pause. “All right, send her in
.”

  “I am sorry, Papa, but this is something that can’t wait,” Florentyna said as she entered the room, feeling suddenly less sure of herself as the eight men around the boardroom table rose. Abel guided her through to his own office.

  “Well, what is it that can’t wait, my darling?”

  “It’s Miss Parker. She’s stuffy, incompetent and stupid,” said Florentyna, and she poured out to her father her version of what had happened that morning with Jessie Kovats.

  Abel’s fingers never stopped tapping on his desktop as he listened to her tale. When she came to the end he flicked a switch on his intercom. “Please ask Miss Parker in the fashion shop to come up immediately.”

  “Thank you, Papa.”

  “Florentyna, would you be kind enough to wait next door while I deal with Miss Parker.”

  “Of course, Papa.”

  A few minutes later, Miss Parker appeared, still looking flushed. Abel asked her what had happened. She gave an accurate account of the altercation, confining her view of Florentyna to the fact that she was a competent assistant but she had been the sole reason that Miss Kovats, a long-serving member of her staff, had left. And others, Miss Parker pointed out, might resign too if Florentyna persisted with her attitude. Abel listened, barely controlling his anger. He gave Miss Parker his opinion and told her that later that day she would receive a letter by hand confirming his decision.

  “If that is what you wish, sir,” said Miss Parker, and left.

  Abel buzzed his secretary. “Would you please ask my daughter to come back in, Miss Deneroff.”

  Florentyna strode in. “Did you tell Miss Parker what you thought, Papa?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “She’ll find it hard to get another job.”

  “She won’t need to.”

  “Won’t need to?”

  “No. I gave her a raise and extended her contract,” he said, leaning forward and placing both hands firmly on his desk. “If you ever treat a member of my staff that way again, I’ll put you over my knee and thrash you and it won’t be a gentle tap with a hairbrush. Jessie Kovats has already left because of your insufferable behavior and it is obvious no one in that shop likes you.”

  Florentyna stared at her father in disbelief, then burst into tears.

  “And you can save your tears for someone else,” continued Abel remorselessly. “They don’t impress me. I shouldn’t have to remind you that I have a company to run. Another week of you and I would have had a crisis on my hands. You will now go down to Miss Parker and apologize for your disgraceful behavior. You will also stay away from my shops until I decide you are ready to work in them again. And that is the last time you interrupt one of my board meetings. Do you understand?”

  “But, Papa—”

  “No buts. You will apologize to Miss Parker immediately.”

  Florentyna ran out of her father’s office and returned to her room in tears, packed her bags, left her green pastel dress on the bedroom floor and took a cab to the airport.

  On learning of her departure, Abel phoned Miss Tredgold, who listened to what had taken place with dismay, but not with surprise.

  When Florentyna arrived home, her mother was still away at a health spa trying to shed a few unwanted pounds. Only Miss Tredgold was there to greet her.

  “You’re back a week early, I observe.”

  “Yes, I got bored with New York.”

  “Don’t lie, child.”

  “Must you pick on me as well?” said Florentyna, and ran upstairs to her room. That weekend she locked herself in and only crept down to the kitchen at odd times for meals. Miss Tredgold made no attempt to see her.

  On the first day of school Florentyna put on one of the smart pastel shirts with the new-style button-down collar she had bought at Bergdorf Goodman. She knew it would make every other girl at Girls Latin jealous. She was going to show them all how a future president of the Student Council should behave. As no member of Council could be elected for two weeks, she wore a shirt of a different color every day and took upon herself the responsibilities of president. She even started to think about what type of car she would talk her father into when she had won the election. At all times she avoided Edward Winchester, who had put his own name forward for Council, and she laughed openly at any comments made about his popularity. On the Monday of the third week, Florentyna went to morning assembly to hear herself confirmed as the new student president.

  When Miss Allen, the headmistress, had read out the full list, Florentyna could not believe her ears. She had not even finished in the first six. In fact, she was only barely the runner-up, and of all people, Edward Winchester had been elected president. As she left the hall, no one commiserated with her and she spent the day in a silent daze at the back of the classroom. When she returned home that night, she crept up to Miss Tredgold’s room and knocked gently on the door.

  “Come.”

  Florentyna opened the door slowly and looked toward Miss Tredgold, who was reading at her desk.

  “They didn’t make me president,” she said quietly. “In fact, they didn’t even elect me to the Council.”

  “I know,” Miss Tredgold replied, closing her Bible.

  “How can you have known?” asked Florentyna.

  “Because I wouldn’t have voted for you myself.” The governess paused. “But that’s an end of the matter, child.”

  Florentyna ran across the room and threw her arms around Miss Tredgold, who held her tight.

  “Good, now we shall have to start rebuilding bridges. Dry your tears, my dear, and we shall begin immediately. There is no time to be lost. Pad and pencil are needed.”

  Florentyna wrote down the list dictated by Miss Tredgold and did not argue with any of her instructions. That night she wrote long letters to her father, Miss Parker—enclosing another letter for Jessie Kovats—Edward Winchester, and finally, although the name was not on her list, to Miss Tredgold. The next day she went to confession with Father O’Reilly. On returning to school, Florentyna helped the newly appointed secretary with her first minutes, showing her the system she had found to work most satisfactorily. She wished the new president luck and promised that she would help him and his Council if she was ever needed. She spent the next week answering any queries that came up from the student councillors but never volunteered advice. When Edward met her in the corridor a few days later he told her that the Council had voted to allow her to keep all her privileges. Miss Tredgold advised her to accept Edward’s kind offer with courtesy but at no time to take advantage of it. Florentyna put all her new New York shirts in a bottom drawer and locked them away.

  A few days later the headmistress called for her. Florentyna feared it would take longer to regain her respect, however determined she was to do so. When Florentyna arrived at her study, the tiny, immaculately dressed woman gave her a friendly smile and motioned to a comfortable seat by her side.

  “You must have been very disappointed by the election results.”

  “Yes, Miss Allen,” said Florentyna, assuming she was to receive further chastisement.

  “But by all accounts you have learned greatly from the experience and I suspect you will be wanting to make amends.”

  “It’s too late, Miss Allen. I leave at the end of the year and can now never be president.”

  “True, true. So we must look for other mountains to climb. I retire at the end of the year, having been headmistress for twenty-five years, and I confess there is little left that I wish to achieve. The boys and girls of Latin have excellent admission records to Harvard, Yale, Radcliffe and Smith, and we have always been better than every other school in Illinois and as good as any on the East Coast. However, there is one achievement that has eluded me.”

  “What’s that, Miss Allen?”

  “The boys have won every major scholarship to the Ivy League universities at least once, Princeton three times, but one scholarship has eluded the girls for a quarter of a century. That is the James Adams Wo
olson Prize Scholarship in the Classics at Radcliffe. I wish to enter your name for that scholarship. Should you win the prize, my cup will be full.”

  “I would like to try,” said Florentyna, “but my record lately—”

  “Indeed,” said the headmistress, “but as Mrs. Churchill pointed out to Winston when he was surprisingly beaten in an election, ‘That may yet turn out to be a blessing in disguise.’”

  “‘Some disguise.’” They both smiled.

  That night, Florentyna studied the entry form for the James Adams Woolson Prize. The scholarship was open to every girl in America between the ages of sixteen and eighteen on July 1 of that year. There were three papers, one for Latin, one for Greek and a general paper on current affairs.

  During the ensuing weeks, Florentyna spoke only Latin and Greek to Miss Tredgold before breakfast, and every weekend Miss Allen assigned her three general questions to be completed by the following Monday morning. As the examination day drew nearer, Florentyna became aware that the hopes of the whole school were with her. She sat awake at night with Cicero, Virgil, Plato and Aristotle, and every morning after breakfast she would write five hundred words on such varied subjects as the Twenty-second Amendment, the significance of President Truman’s power over Congress during the Korean War—even on the impact that television would have in going nationwide.

  At the end of each day, Miss Tredgold checked through Florentyna’s work, adding footnotes and comments before they would both collapse into bed, only to be up at six-thirty the next morning to work their way through further old scholarship examination papers. Far from gaining confidence, Florentyna confided to Miss Tredgold that she became more frightened as each day passed.

  The prize exam was set for early March at Radcliffe, and on the eve of departure day Florentyna unlocked her bottom drawer and selected her favorite of the New York shirts. Miss Tredgold accompanied her to the station and the few words they spoke on the way were in Greek. Her final words were: “Don’t spend the longest time on the easiest question.”