“How fun! How lovely!”
She removes her hat. Her fair hair falls over her face, covering her eyes like a net. It’s as though everything is in a mist, which is even nicer.
Nikolai talks so much. And Odette, too. They talk too much. She can’t feel the hand on her knee any more. Why did it go? It felt so lovely there.
Liza lifts up her head.
“I want to dance.”
Andrei and Cromwell both jump to their feet. Their eyes meet.
Odette claps her hands.
“So now you’re rivals! And you must fight a duel!”
Liza gets up too.
“I’ll dance with you, Crom.”
She edges carefully around the table. Her head is spinning and she could easily trip and fall. She makes it to the centre of the room. The parquet is shiny and everything is spinning. Liza, too, is spinning. Her short blue dress fans out as she dances, but she doesn’t care.
It’s so easy to dance, so much fun! The music is marvellous, so joyful and so sad. Her head is spinning.
“Hold me closer or else I’ll fall. Oh, is it really over? I want to dance again!”
They sit back down at their table.
“Now I’ll dance with you, Andrei.” Liza smiles. “Tonight is such fun! I want to have dinner like this every night.”
A tall Englishman in tails enters the restaurant. He stops in surprise when he sees Cromwell and regards him coldly. He makes his way past them to an empty table by the window. Cromwell turns bright red and jumps to his feet.
“Crom, where are you going?” Liza grabs his hand.
“That’s… That’s Leslie, my cousin. I must speak to him.”
Cromwell quickly goes over to the Englishman. Even the tips of his ears are burning red with anxiety. Liza stretches out her neck. She wants to hear what they’re saying, but the music is deafeningly loud. But does it really matter what that puffed-up Englishman has to say?
“Let’s have a dance, Andrei.”
And now everything is spinning once again, and her skirt is fanning out, and her heart keeps stopping, keeps dropping into her stomach.
Cromwell is already back at their table. He’s still bright red and there’s a folded cheque on a small dish in front of him. Odette looks angry and annoyed.
“Are we leaving already?” Liza sits down on the banquette. “I don’t want to go just yet.”
“We have to. Leslie said he’ll tell my mother, so…” Cromwell blushes a deeper shade of red.
Liza shrugs her shoulders.
“So? Let him.”
“If he does, I’ll be sent back to London.”
Liza lets out a sigh.
“How idiotic. We were having such fun! What’s it to him anyway, that English goblin!”
She gets to her feet. Andrei passes her the coat with the stoat collar. Liza wraps it around herself, regards herself in the mirror and shakes her head.
“We were having such fun.”
She makes her way slowly towards the exit. People are staring at her. “She’s so pretty!” she hears someone say. She pauses at the door to wait for the others. Turning her head, she looks straight at the Englishman in a tailcoat.
He is looking back at her coldly, but his expression is one of outrage. He is holding the menu in his hand and a waiter is standing over him, frozen in a polite bow. But the Englishman is ignoring him. He is waiting for Cromwell to leave.
Liza bows to him mockingly and then opens her mouth to stick out her tongue at him. It all happens so quickly. She’s already in the hallway. She only just has time to hear someone in the restaurant start laughing, and the sound of applause.
“You’re mad,” Odette whispers to her.
Andrei takes her arm.
“Well done, Liza, you stuck up for us.”
Cromwell is silent.
“So, where to next?” asks Nikolai.
Odette waves her hat in the air.
“Onwards and upwards!”
It’s cold. Cars drive past them, one after the other.
“So, where to?”
They stand and look at each other. Odette laughs.
“Where to?”
“Unfortunately… I… we…” Cromwell sounds embarrassed. “We can’t go anywhere.”
“What! Why?”
Cromwell pauses before answering, as if weighing up his words.
“I don’t have any money,” he says quietly.
“No money?” Nikolai can’t believe his ears. “But—”
“I don’t have any money,” Cromwell says again. “I’ve just spent the last I had. I pawned my motor car today, so I can’t get any more. And now, to top it all off, I’ve run into Leslie!”
Nikolai walks up to him and stands very close.
“What about your mother?”
“She won’t give me a franc until Christmas.”
“Until Christmas?” Nikolai lets out a long, derisive whistle and throws his arms out wide. “Until Christmas!”
Liza wraps the fur coat more tightly around her. Her arms drown in its sleeves. It’s as though the conversation passes her by, doesn’t concern her.
“It’s so cold,” she says absent-mindedly. Nobody answers. They are all still standing on the pavement.
Nikolai raises the collar of his coat.
“Well, what can we do? We have to get home somehow. I hope you can drop us off?”
Cromwell nods.
“Yes, yes, of course.” He hails a cab. “There are five of us. I’d better sit next to the driver.”
But Andrei gives him a gentle shove.
“Climb in with us. There’s space for everyone.”
They drive down dark, empty streets. Nobody says a word. Cromwell gazes at Liza.
They’ve almost reached her house. She won’t invite him in. He has less than five minutes left in her company. She won’t invite him in with her. If she were to say, “Maybe you could come in,” no matter how coldly, even if she added, “but it’s getting late,” he would agree. He wants to be in her home, in her room, just one last time. He wants to look into her eyes with the lights on, wants to sit beside her on the divan.
She sits with her back to them, staring out of the window. Her hat—the hat with the white feathers—has fallen to the floor. Cromwell picks it up and replaces it on her lap. She doesn’t even turn to look at him.
“Do you feel sick?” Odette asks her.
Liza scowls.
“I feel sickened.”
The taxi draws to a halt. Liza climbs out first. Her face is pale. She holds her hand out to Cromwell.
“Goodbye. I imagine you’ll be going straight home. We’re all frightfully tired. Goodnight.”
Odette also says her farewells to Cromwell.
“Thank you,” she says.
“Whatever for?” he asks, abashed.
“For a fun evening.” Odette smiles, before giving him a nod and running after Liza.
Liza is already making her way up the staircase. The large fur coat drags over the stairs. Her fair hair glimmers dully. She looks both miserable and regal.
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
Andrei and Nikolai head into the house. The door slams shut. Cromwell is left on his own. He lets the cab go. It’s better to walk, in case he doesn’t have enough money.
Cromwell stands in the middle of the deserted street. What is he supposed to do now? Oh, yes, he must go home. He cannot just loiter at someone else’s garden gate all night, with his hat in his hands, like a beggar. He dons his hat. He must go home. After all, he knew it was going to end like this. He was expecting it, wasn’t he? But still… She didn’t even look at him, as if he no longer existed. Well, he doesn’t exist any more. Not now that he can no longer entertain her and her friends. He walks down silent, unfamiliar streets, as trees gently rustle in gardens and the sky gradually grows light.
He casts his mind back to the day when he first saw Isolde. How happy he was before he knew her! How
happy he was, without even realizing it.
As he thinks of that day, he recollects the sand, the waves, the sunset. All of a sudden, quite vividly, he sees the girl who drowned. He sees her black wet bathing suit and her dead white face. He sees her closed eyes.
Suddenly he feels sorry for her, for the first time. Back then, when he was so anxious and scared for Isolde, he hadn’t had the time to spare a thought for her.
“That poor girl! That poor, poor girl!”
She had such a lovely, honest, calm face. She wouldn’t have behaved like Isolde. No, she was different.
The pity he feels allays his own misery for a moment, but only for a moment.
“Isolde!” he says aloud, before bursting into tears.
“What’s come over me?” he thinks desperately. “I’m crying! I’ll soon be scared of mice at this rate.”
He wipes his eyes with his hands. The sky has grown quite light. The wispy grey clouds allow glimpses of pink to shine through.
Cromwell lets out a sigh and lifts his face up to the sky. He sees the face of the drowned girl looking down on him, pale, transparent, dead. She’s right there, just above him, glowing amid the cold dawn of the Paris sky. Transparent, bright, almost happy. Silently, she radiates comfort. Her pale lips smile at him, and her smile shines brightly.
It grows even lighter. The clouds melt away into the dawn sky. Her face turns faint and misty. No longer is it possible to make out her closed eyes and her thin eyebrows. Everything has faded. Only her smile remains. And now that smile too has disappeared. But up there, in the pink sky, where the dead girl’s face had once been, a shimmering light lingers on for a long, long time.
IV
THE LESSON had just ended. Liza took off her black pinafore. Beside her, Odette was slowly placing books into her satchel. She was very pale and had dark rings around her eyes. Liza nudged her with her elbow.
“What’s made you so dull all of a sudden?”
“I feel wretched. I have such a headache.”
“Some fresh air will do you good. And make sure you eat a gherkin when you get home.”
“A gherkin?”
“That’s right. Kolya always has one after he’s been out. It’s the best remedy.”
Their teacher walked over and pressed her hand against Odette’s forehead.
“Do you have a fever? There’s a flu epidemic, you know. You’ve been playing outside without a coat again, haven’t you? You must take better care of yourself!”
Liza laughed quietly.
Boisterous schoolgirls piled out of the classroom, shouting and pushing each other as they went. They took their time getting dressed in the corridor. Liza pulled on her short navy-blue jacket with gold buttons and put a childish little hat on her head without even glancing at herself in the mirror. Here she was just a girl, a schoolgirl, so that’s how she had to behave.
She curtseyed to the class teacher.
“Goodbye, madame.”
The teacher smiled at her benevolently. “If only all our girls were as good as this little Russian.”
Outside, Liza took Odette’s arm.
“Well? Do you feel better?”
“A little.”
“Just don’t forget the gherkin. And if that doesn’t help, dilute some smelling salts and take ten drops.”
They heard dark, thin Angèle shouting: “Are you going home already? Jacqueline and I want to go to the fish museum.”
“The fish museum? What’s that?”
“Come and see for yourselves.”
Jacqueline placed her hand on Liza’s shoulder.
“Oh, do come with us,” she pleaded. “It’s always fun when you come. Come on, Liza, it’s really not far, just by the Trocadéro.”
Liza nodded.
“All right, if you really want me to.”
Georgette linked arms with Liza.
“Yesterday, I went to the zoo to look at orang-utans. They were so big and sad, just like real people. I felt sorry for them. But the lions were funny. They have giraffes, too. What about you, Liza, what did you do?”
“Odette and I went to the cinema.”
Odette raised her eyebrows in surprise and took a deep breath of the damp autumnal air.
“We saw a really marvellous picture. There was a restaurant and dancing. Everyone was getting drunk and kissing each other. It was so racy and thrilling. Then one of them ran out of money, so everyone went home and locked him out. The actresses were wonderful. The actors, too,” Liza smiled. “One of them in particular. He was so dark and looked a bit like a bird.”
Jacqueline’s eyes lit up.
“Racy? Did they get into bed?”
“No, there wasn’t a bed, but there was knee-stroking under the table.”
“Really? Which cinema was this?”
“La Motte-Picquet, but last night was the last showing.”
“Did it end well?” Angèle interrupted.
“Of course! One of them married the dark boy and the other one married the brother.”
Odette clapped her hands.
“Oh, Liza, you are wonderful!”
“What’s come over her?” Angèle was taken aback.
Liza shrugged.
“She must have a fever. She said she had a headache.”
Odette skipped in front of them.
“Yes, I have a fever. I’ve caught the flu!”
Liza grabbed her by the collar.
“Stop it. You look like a frog when you jump around like that.”
“Well, you look like a pair of scissors when you run!”
“It’s here on the right,” said Angèle, turning off into a narrow alley that led to a grotto.
The grotto was cold and damp. Water dripped down the uneven stone walls.
“Now, line up, take each other’s hands and close your eyes. Give me your hand, Odette. I’ll lead. But you can’t open your eyes until I say ‘Open’, and you can’t say anything either. All right, let’s go.”
They shuffled forward uncertainly, treading on each other’s toes and walking into one another as though they were blind.
“I’m scared,” whispered Jacqueline.
Angèle squeezed her hand.
“Be quiet. It’s right here. Be careful, there’s a step.”
Angèle stopped.
“Look now!” she announced loudly.
They opened their eyes. They were standing in a narrow corridor flooded with light. Tall glass walls rose up on either side of them, through which they could see enormous fish swimming languidly in clear green water. Electric light filtered through the water, looking like pale moonlight.
“Snakes!” Odette grabbed at Liza’s sleeve.
“They’re eels, silly.”
Shiny live black ribbons were slowly twisting and turning among the green seaweed.
“Oh, they’re disgusting. Let’s keep going.”
They were quite alone. Their footsteps echoed hollowly.
“This is so strange. It’s as if we’re walking on the seabed,” said Liza quietly. “Like the Jews who walked on the bottom of the Red Sea. There’s water on either side.”
Liza was standing next to Angèle, looking at the wall of water. The water looked green and cold, and it gurgled gently. Enormous fish swam heavily past them, slowly beating their fins as they went. They kept opening their mouths wide, while their flat round eyes stared blindly ahead. Liza imagined the glass cracking there and then. The water would come crashing down, and large, wet, slippery fish would swim across her, across her face and her breasts.
She shuddered.
“Look at that one!” Jacqueline laughed. “That one over there, the one lying on the bottom, with the red gills. Look at his face! He looks just like our history teacher. All he needs is some glasses.”
Liza couldn’t take her eyes off the fish. The gurgling green water, the pale light, their grotesque faces and glistening scales, the moist, heated air, all weighed on her like wearying moonlight.
; Jacqueline’s laughter seemed far, far away. Liza’s knees grew weak. She wanted to lean against the glass wall behind which the fish were swimming. She wanted to stay there for ever. And she wanted Andrei by her side, not Jacqueline. She wanted him to be standing next to her, kissing her lips, while she observed the monstrous fish watching them. They would stand there for a long time, kissing, until they grew dizzy, and then they could lie down together on the damp earthen floor.
Liza turned to Odette.
“It must be nice to kiss here, in front of the fish.”
“To kiss?” Jacqueline asked. “Do you kiss?”
Liza shook her head.
“No. But I would have kissed the dark boy from the film yesterday.”
Jacqueline blushed.
“I’d hate to kiss a man. But I’d kiss you or Angèle…” She smiled dreamily. “This summer I was visiting my uncle in Brittany and I shared a bed with my cousin Simone. It was lovely. We always kissed when the moon was out.”
“What does the moon have to do with it?” Angèle was surprised.
“When the moon was out, neither of us could sleep. And the moonlight made Simone look so pale and so delicate. Sometimes we’d spend the whole night kissing, until dawn.”
“While the nightingale serenaded you in the garden?” said Georgette, laughing.
“No, the garden was full of frogs. They croak loudly all through the summer.” Jacqueline paused for a moment. “But I couldn’t kiss a man, it would be disgusting.”
Liza shook her head.
“I don’t understand. Odette and I have shared a bed lots of times, but we’ve never done anything like that.”
Jacqueline blushed even deeper.
“Men are so coarse. And they don’t shave properly. The stubble on their cheeks is always so prickly.”
“But you don’t even notice that when you’re kissing them,” said Odette quickly.
“How would you know?”
Odette lowered her gaze modestly.
“I’d just imagine that’s how it is. Otherwise, nobody would ever kiss. Anyway, let’s go. It’s time to head home.”
They made their way back to the street.
Angèle checked the wristwatch under her glove.
Isolde Page 7