by Susan Firman
CHAPTER 7
Privilege
The weather began to improve as nature began to shake off the gloom of winter. Bulbs which had remained dorment under the icy ground now began to stir as they pushed upwards through the grass and the earliest daffodils brought splashes of white and yellow into the gardens and along the college driveway. A few weeks later, millions small bells exploded from the winter litter and turned the forest floor into the brightest blue carpet nature could offer. Their glory lasted but only a few weeks and no sooner had they set their tiny seed heads, than Hans began to notice Anne and Gerald together more and more frequently. Lofty had stopped going out with the boys and he had made them aware that cricket would be off his menu for the coming season. He told Hans that he had decided to throw all his energies into his studies as an opportunity had opened up for him to further his studies at Cambridge.
The college re-opened after the short Easter break. Students settled once more into their studies as warmer days increased. Waves of white and yellow daffodil trumpets covered a countryside which was beginning to take on a faint light-green hue as the earliest leaves burst from the trees and announced that the end of winter had truly arrived.
The school committee, made up from the head boy, two parents and four masters, announced that the senior classes could have a social evening. This was part of their education as it gave the ‘young men and young women’ the opportunity to experience some of the acceptable social graces under the watchful eyes of the staff. This form of social ‘get-together’ had long been an important part of the college and after that, the students were expected to settle down to hard work and diligence until the final exams in June.
It was a great privilege for the girls to be invited to the evening as all invitations had to be sent out, and received, by the young men. Masters were on hand to give advice and the students had to make themselves available during lessons to write out invitations and to decorate the hall, as well. Good weather was prayed for, even in the church on Sunday morning. If they could have just a few weeks of good weather, the large hall doors could be left open so that students could dance or chat on the paving or grass area that connected the hall to the main school building. But, knowing English weather, one really never quite knew what was round the corner. Then it turned cold again and someone said it had been snowing further up the country. In May! A decision was made not to decorate the outside area.
One of the girls had previously whispered to her boyfriend that it would be a good idea if small titbits of food were on offer, a new idea that was beginning to catch on quite rapidly with the young ones. The only problem seemed to be the music, finding a small group of musicians who were prepared to play what the adults considered to be reasonable dance music. Miss Turner forbade any of the loud, modern dance music commonly found in the rowdy music-halls. She did condescend, however, to permit the Charleston or one of the other latest dances . . . only as long as it didn’t get out of hand. She had seen how the young danced; jiving and wriggling in all directions, flinging out parts of their bodies they ought to keep strictly to themselves. She had made it quite clear to the students that she did not approve of the modern ways or of the latest Flapper craze.
Everyone was given a list of rules to be adhered to. Everyone would be checked in and out at the main entrance. Strict dress code was to be observed and no-one without a partner was permitted to enter. It would be like the animals going on to the ark, arriving two by twos and immediately being taken inside. Mr Somerville, one of the masters who was known for his copious proportions and booming voice was given the job of standing at the entrance and announcing each couple as they arrived. The final obstacle was to be approved and welcomed by Mr Bowes-Heath and Miss Turner. Now only the invitations needed to be hand delivered. Everything to the exact detail had been sorted and Janine Turner had been told she could go.
“Resmel, you can show me how honourable you can be and offer your invitation to my niece.”
That was all that Hans wanted to hear. He was sure Miss Turner was making absolutely certain that Jan would be able to attend for what she said sounded more more like a command than any suggestion. By his calculation, Janine Turner was still too young to be seriously taken to a dance, especially by him. Besides, if it was permissible for Jan to be allowed to attend, then Hans thought he might be able to ask for Heidi to be his partner. But that would have meant asking Miss Turner and she had already chosen her niece.
Miss Turner made it quite clear that Heidi was here to work; not to mingle with the offspring of the well-to-do. Everyone was expected to know their place and never, never cross the boundaries that separated the classes. Then, he thought of Miss Anne Sutherland but he would have to get his invitation to her ahead of any one else. Could be tricky for Anne was one of the most popular girls and was always in great demand: seen either in the company of some lucky lad as she sat perched on the rear seat of a sporty motorcycle, her arms wrapped with great satisfaction around the lean leather waist on the front; or she would be seen on many Saturday mornings riding to hounds with some eligible young son of one of the local gentleman farmers at her elbow, so Hans did not think he’d have much chance with Anne. And now Miss Turner had firmly quashed both ideas. Janine Turner it was to be. Still, once inside the dance hall, who knows what may happen?
Hans could feel the tension and excitement in the house as Ellen spent a good hour setting the twenty or thirty slim curlers into Jan’s hair. Ellen enjoyed messing around with hair and had previously shown she had a talent in that direction. Jan sat reading one of her favourite novels as her hair was tightly twisted around each blue curler and then doused heavily with the strong smelling setting lotion. When Hans had opened the living room door and had watched the procedure for a few minutes, it was Ellen, with the bottle of liquid in her hand, who turned round and gestured with a nod of her head that anything that resembled a male was not wanted in the vicinity.
Late in the afternoon, the unveiling of the wrapped head of hair was ready and as the hair fell free in ringlets onto her shoulders, Jan’s voice carried from the living room and along into the hallway.
“How does it look? What’s it like, Ellen?”
“You look a treat, miss. Real grown up.” Ellen handed over the silver-backed hand mirror Miss Turner had lent her niece for the occasion.
Jan pushed the morning gown she was wearing off her shoulders and held up the mirror as she moved it around to admire her new style. Ellen had had a bright idea to decorate the curls with small white daisy flowers.
“Jus’ like a princess, miss. As beau’iful as Queen Alexandra was when she was young.”
“Oh, stop being so silly, Ellen.” Jan shook her head to make the curls swirl. “Tidy up and then come and help me change. I’ll be in my room.”
Jan rushed out of the room in such a hurry her morning gown slipped down to her waist and she almost banged into Hans at the foot of the stairs.
“Do watch yourself Hans Resmel!” she exclaimed as her hand gripped the banisters to steady herself. Her chest heaved up and down under the light camisole as she caught her breath. Hans could not help noticing she had breasts.
Breasts, just like her aunt’s, he thought. So, Jan has reached the age of breasts. No wonder she has been giving me strange side-glances, lately.
As for Jan, she could hardly wait to get into the dress she would wear. Hans stepped aside. She grabbed at her clothing and pulled it back around herself, and with a flick of her head, together with a smile that would have satisfied a cat that had found the cream, she passed him by and floated up the staircase, using both her arms to push her forwards so that she could fly above the steps three at a time.
When Ellen arrived and helped fasten her into her dress, Jan danced her way over to the long dress mirror on her wardrobe door, turning first one way and then the other as she admired the way the straight laced bodice flared out just below her hips into a full skirt. It did emphasise the curvature of her youthful hips. The fabri
c swished and swirled around her like water in slow motion. Around the hip line were clusters of daisy beads which had been sewn on to look like cascading flowers She shook her head slightly from side to side so that her curls bobbed and swayed rhythmically around her head and laughed out loud in sheer enjoyment at it.
“Don’t you think my dress looks beautiful, Ellen?” she asked patting the v-shaped neckline flat against her chest. The pale-blue colour suited her. The neckline was not too low to show the crease between her breasts but low cut enough so that Jan could wear a necklace.
“Try this one on, Miss Janine,” Ellen suggested taking out the fine set of pearls from the small white jewellery box on the dressing table. “They’ll match the pearl bangle there.”
Jan was already doing up the clasp around her wrist. She decided that her three-quarter length sleeves needed just that little extra to compliment them. And now with the necklace in place. Jan felt like a débutante.
“ ‘ere, miss, put this around you. It might be cold outside.”
Ellen draped Miss Turner’s warm fox fur cape around Jan’s shoulders. She had fussed around her as though Jan were her own daughter about to walk down the aisle but in reality there was less than six years between them. A transformation had taken place and the normally quiet clothed Miss Janine Turner had emerged in the colours of a beautiful butterfly.
Other than his everyday college uniform, Hans did not possess much other clothing. He did not possess any formal evening wear but he had managed to borrow a striped black suit together with a dark waistcoat from Robert. It was fortunate that Robert was the owner of several suits, as he jokingly said: One for each occasion.
“Mister Resmel and Miss Turner!” boomed out the voice of Mr Somerville.
Jan hung onto Hans as though he were the prince who had rescued her from some horrible fate. She was too overwhelmed this evening to say much to him and Hans was grateful for her silence. He escorted her through the open double doors and guided her over to Miss Turner
“You look a treat, my dear.” Miss Turner beamed with pride at her niece. “And Mr Resmel escorted you in so very much like a gentleman. It was a pleasure to behold.”
Hans could not help thinking about the arguments Jan and her aunt had had as Jan tried desperately to persuade her aunt to allow her to wear something very modern, something without sleeves and much much shorter than halfway down her calf. The shocked gasps of disapproval from Miss Turner told Jan everything she was to know and then the laying down of rules if Jan was going to attend were so strong that in the end Jan bit her lip and silently submitted. She would have to wear something her aunt approved of and far less daring and modern than Jan had imagined.
“Mister Woodhill-Jones and Miss Sutherland!”
Anne looked stunning. She was an attractive girl at the best of times but tonight she took the breath away. A shining silver head band had been set low over her short auburn hair so that part of it covered the top of her forehead and her dress, made up of alternate bright yellow and deep orange sections, each with tasselled edges and coloured frilly bits which fluttered and twirled in a rainbow of colour every time she moved. Anne looked slender, exquisit and terribly sophisticated. Jan noted with envy that Anne’s dress was both sleeveless and so short it only just covered her knees. How Jan wished she had been allowed to wear something equally so modern.
The first dance of the evening was the fox-trot and after that the dance music filled the hall and the room came alive with colour and movement. Hans had danced the opening fox-trot with Jan, but after leading her back to one of the chairs, had managed to excuse himself and slip away into the crowd. He’d done his bit: he had escorted the girl onto the dance floor. He glanced over his shoulder and was even more pleased when one of the other young men approached her and whisked her away for the next round. He was winding his way between the swirling figures when he bumped into Robert and his partner half-way across the floor.
“Not dancing this time, Hans?” Robert shouted as his own partner twirled around, holding on to his outstretched arm.
“No,” he shouted back trying to be heard over the loud dance music of the quartet. “I’m saving my toes. I’ve already been trodden on several times. My shoes need polishing again.”
“Just rub ‘em on your trouser leg and keep going.”
Before Hans could comment further, Robert and his partner were out of reach. Hans pushed his way through again until he was able to reach the opposite side where the outside doors had been thrown open. He stood at the edge of the opening, looking back across the hall.
“Hello, chappy!”
This time it was Bertie Williams. He was one of the boys Hans played cricket with. Hans turned and stepped backwards out of the hall doorway.
“Hello, Bertie. I didn’t notice you before.”
“Wasn’t here, then Hansie. Just been out for a quick puff. Don’t tell anyone. It’s not permitted but everyone knows that if you disappear for a bit, you’re either snogging, grogging or puffing.”
Hans grinned and patted his friend on the back. He looked past Bertie, stretching his neck to look back into the hall.
“Lost your partner?” Bernie asked.
“No. I was hoping to see someone. You haven’t seen one of Miss Turner’s maids, have you, Bertie?”
“Which one?”
“Miss Friedl.”
“The young foreign girl?”
“Yes.”
Bertie laughed loudly.
“Looking for a bit of crumpet, eh Hans?” Hans missed the joke.
“I am lucky that Miss Turner did not have them made,” he answered dryly. The puzzled expression on his face told Bertie that he didn’t like the taste of crumpets very much.
“That’s all right, Hansie. Leaves more for me. But I think that’s the one you’re looking for . . . over there. She’s not bad looking but I think a trifle too young for me.”
Bertie pointed through the throng and across to the other side of the hall. He patted his friend on the shoulder and the two of them pushed back into the crowd, each going in a different direction. Hans struggled through a thick cluster of dancers until he found Heidi by the side-table.
“Hello. How’s it going?” He reached forward and picked up a small triangular sandwich, popping it all in his mouth. “Mmm. Good. English cucumber sandwiches. Will they be playing any Strauss, do you know?”
“The waltz. I do so love that music.” Heidi had a dreamy look in her eyes. “I think of home. So much music.”
Hans remembered the Mozart musical festivals that were held annually in their home town. He could almost see the Mozarthaus in his mind, the large, grey building where the famous composer had been born.
Heidi handed Hans the plate of English triangular cucumber sandwiches again. He popped another in his mouth and tried grinning at her as he ate.
“Shall I find out for you?” she asked as she tipped a half empty plate of tidbits to fill the plate next to Hans.
“No. I’m sure they will play a waltz . . . at the end. There’s always a waltz at the end. Strauss, the waltz and Vienna go together. Papi took Mutti several times to Vienna when there was an officer’s ball. I think Mutti said that even the Archduke and his wife, Sophie, were there once.”
Heidi’s eyes went soft and dreamy.
“Oh, how I should have loved to have been there,” she sighed. “All those beautiful dresses and dancing in the same room as the royals!” Her mind was already twirling in time to her favourite Strauss waltz. Suddenly she returned to the school hall and her face became serious again as her body stiffened. “But no more dreaming. I have to work!”
“Not dancing much tonight, Mr Resmel?”
Hans had been so engaged in conversation with Heidi, he hadn’t noticed that Miss Turner had appeared. She looked around and over towards the seating, which was not too far away. Several girls were sitting together in silence watching couples spill on to the dance floor as the small orchestra returne
d their instruments for the next dance.
“Janine!” She beckoned to her niece. “You’ve got some spare dances on your card, haven’t you?” Jan nodded and produced the card for her aunt to inspect. “Well, see here. This is blank. No partner for that one?,” Miss Turner pointed. “Hans would like this dance. I’ll write him in for this one. He can accompany you. I think the next one’s called the Camel Walk.”
Hans went a bit pale. He had learnt to keep his inner emotions more under control as he had found it much safer to do so, especially when Miss Turner was around.
“I cannot dance that!”
“No such thing as can’t! What’s your problem, young man? Stubborn again?”
“No. Sorry, Miss Turner. I really don’t know this one.”
Miss Turner shook her head like a cow with a fly irritating its ear. Her voice went up to a higher scale.
“Don’t let that bother you, young man. Janine will soon show you. She’s just learnt it, haven’t you, m’dear?” She pushed him towards her niece and smiled condescendingly at him. “Come, Resmel. There’s very little to it. Be the gentleman. Veneratio est nostrum rector. Now, off you go.”
Jan tugged at his arm with the familiarity of a younger sister.
“Come on, Hans. I’ll lead.”
For once in her life, Jan felt superior. She had Hans Resmel just where she wanted. She remained in front of him, holding out her arms in expectation. Her aunt stood like a sentry guarding against any thought of escape. He knew he had no choice but to obey.
The music started again. Hans and Jan stood together, yet as far apart as their arms would permit. They waited. Hans hoped that by watching the couple in front, he could try and follow their movements. He waited for Jan to take the lead. It was all so painful. It was awkward holding her at arms length and trying not to look at her. He hoped that this dance would be as short as that first introductory fox-trot. He tried to imagine he was Papi dancing with his mother but Jan’s vocal instructions kept breaking into his thoughts and after only a few bars, all his imaginations were destroyed. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the drum beat announced the end had arrived.
Hans returned his partner to her seat, made some excuse to leave and disappeared once more into the crowd. He was able to hide himself away for the next few dances and then his luck changed. He had bumped into Anne, just at the end of one dance and before the next had begun. He had previously asked her to include his name on her list of dance partners and now he had her attention, he was not going to let anybody else slide in between them and take her away.
“Sorry. This dance is for me,” he blurted out when another student came closer than three feet away. “She’s taken. She promised me this one. My name’s on her card.”
“That’s all right.” The student stepped back and held up the palms of his hands .“I can wait.”
“Sorry, Gerald. Didn’t see you for a minute.” Hans was embarrassed that he hadn’t recognised his friend.
“That’s all right, old chap,” Gerald replied with a grin. He bowed his head slightly in Anne’s direction and spoke softly to her. She laughed, showed him her card and nodded. Gerald pointed on the card.
“Would you do me the honour of allowing me the following dance? I see you don’t have any name written in for that one.”
Anne laughed again. She knew she’d been extremely popular and, for a girl like her, there would be no rest from those wanting to dance with her. Her card was quite full with the names of prospective dancers.
“Certainly, Gerald. I’ll see you back here as soon as the music stops.” She fluttered her hand seductively in his face and then pulled at his bow-tie. “Now, don’t you run away. Wait here.” She pushed him and pursed her lips at him. “Stay!”
“Won’t budge. Not an inch. Promise.” Gerald turned and faced Hans. “She’s all yours.”
Hans held out his arm and led Anne into the crowd as the orchestra made squeaking and rumbling noises which they always did to announce they were ready.
A waltz began. Hans was glad. He knew how to do that. Papi had allowed him and Renard to look over the top balcony at one of the dances below as partners swirled as if on a carousel. Both boys had been wonder-struck. The hall was magnificent. It was the biggest and grandest room Hans had ever seen with exquisite wall decorations and large candle chandeliers hanging high above the dance floor. It had been such an exciting experience that the boys talked about it for days afterwards, marvelling over the officers’ gold-braided uniforms and wanting to be soldiers just like them. Hans could remember manoeuvring their toy soldiers around their bedroom floor for several weeks until the novelty began to wear off.
“You waltz very well, Mister Resmel,” complemented Anne as they twirled together in complete harmony. “Better than most. Where did you learn to dance like this?”
“Mutti showed me. She’d let all of us practice with her, especially after Papi had taken her to a ball. My father was too busy. He didn’t have the time nor the patience to teach his children how to waltz.”
“Your mother did a very good job.”
Hans nodded. He was feeling special again, dancing with Anne. The school hall changed into a beautiful ballroom, like the one in which Hans had watched his parents dance together and for a moment, he imagined that he was his father and Anne was Mutti, charming and radiant in her elegant gown.
They continued to dance in silence, round past Gerald on the sideline. As they drew closer, Gerald waved his hand and mouthed I’m waiting and then the dancers whirled and twirled even more as the music became faster and faster and the walls of the hall past them by with the mad rush of a speeding locomotive. Then waltz slowed and the last bars of music dissolved into the atmosphere. The clapping subsided and they found themselves on the opposite side of the hall from Gerald. They waited side by side for a few minutes as the dancers began to thin out.
“What did your father do . . . before the war, of course?” Anne asked.
“He was in the military,” he answered. “An officer in the Imperial army. Families paid for their sons to go into the military but I don’t like to talk much about it. The war and all. It’s rather embarrassing now.”
Hans took her by the hand again and they began walking together. They dodged round several couples who remained together in the centre of the hall.
“Doesn’t bother me,” she added. “It’s exactly the same here. A military career was a most respectable occupation. Most of the upper-classes here still send their sons into one of the services. It’s considered good training.”
“And you approve?” he asked.
“Of going into the military? Such men do have a certain bearing. And then there’s the discipline.”
“True, but didn’t the military make the mess in the last war? The one to end all wars.”
“Did rather.” She answered quickly and then laughed. “But I still think they look so handsome in their uniforms!”
Hans was contented. He had enjoyed dancing with Anne and he found it was so easy to discuss sensitive topics with her. She was so mature. He was sorry to have to hand her over to Gerald but all good things come to an end sometime.
The master on the megaphone announced that before the final waltz, students could let themselves go a little as the orchestra had been given permission to play the latest hit: Yes Sir, that’s my baby.
“Oh, Gerald,” squealed Anne in delight as she bent her knees and wriggled her hips. “We can do the Shimmy together. Spiffing!”
Hans watched as she pulled Gerald teasingly on to the dance floor. He wished it could have been him. The music was loud and exciting. It drowned out the calls and shrieks of laughter.
Hans sat on one of the assembly hall benches for a few minutes as he sulked at not capturing Anne’s interest as Gerald seemingly had. He needed to talk with someone. He thought of Heidi. He could talk with her. He made his way along the wall and watched the enthusiasts swinging their knees and flinging out their arms as th
ey danced face to face. He wished he could have danced the Charleston or the Shimmy with Heidi instead of watching her walk round with the sandwich plate.
“Would the young men like to take their partners for . . . The Turkey Trot!”
Hans knew instinctively that Anne would be delighted. A modern girl like her knew all the latest crazes. And after that, the Cakewalk. Such lively tunes and certainly not to the taste of the masters or Miss Turner. What the young saw in the Shimmy or the Black Bottom . . . or, indeed any of them, Miss Turner could never begin to understand.
And after the modern tunes, the finale: a slow, soothing and respectable waltz to bring the evening to a respectable close.
Hans’s last partner had been one of the girls from Anne’s group. Anne had promised to find Hans a partner and to introduce him to the Camel Walk. It had been such fun; arms and legs swinging in all directions and had been so much fun that Lydia suggested they remain together for the farewell waltz. Hans was thankful he did not have to dance with Janine Turner again.
As the last bars of the music melted into the walls, the students jumped with their arms in the air and shouted in glee. If Hans didn’t count the ungainly fox-trot he had had with the young Miss Turner and his ungainly attempts at the Camel Walk, the evening had gone off remarkably well. Although he had not disliked the evening, neither had he been elated by it. But it had been an experience and everyone had been so friendly and happy. A spiffing time! As Anne would say.
He hung back and waited for Heidi to collect her hat and coat. Jan had also remained, helping her aunt lock the doors and switch off the new electric lighting. Together, the four of them walked back through the gardens to the Turner house. Through the trees and in the distance they could just make out the faint glimmer of the town street gas lights. In another hour, the gas-man would begin his round and snuff out each burning light, inviting the darkness of the night to draw its silent blanket over the town.
The following day was clean-up day. Anne and three of her friends had come over to give a hand as the task of clearing up was far greater than Ellen, Mary or Heidi could easily manage. Miss Turner had also commandeered the assistance of Hans and Jan and, as usual, the school matron was like a sergeant major, constantly barking orders at them, then checking and re-checking that everything was done to her satisfaction.
“Resmel, you can help Mary with the tables. A strong lad like you can pick them up and take them round to the shed behind the hall. Heidi, you can see to it that all that rubbish is put into those bins, and, oh yes, . . . just a minute . . . No! Don’t put those there! They’ll have to be properly stacked and stowed away under the stage. Janine, show them where the door is, will you?” She indicated the last remaining chairs to her two maids and left Jan to open the small door under the side of the stage. “Now, where was I? Oh yes, Heidi. Stand those rubbish bins over there by the rear door. The groundsman can collect them later today. Then help Resmel and Mary. ” She looked around for Ellen, saw that she was still occupied with taking down the lanterns, so decided to leave the girl in peace a while longer.
As they seemed to be making headway, Hans heard Miss Turner remind Jan to go and do her music practice. In some ways, Hans did feel sorry for the girl, for her aunt made sure she kept to a very tight schedule and Jan had to account for her every move.
Heidi collected all the rubbish. Mary had joined Anne’s group and was folding up the tables and stacking them against the wall for Hans to carry out. Things were going smoothly until Ellen called for help to unthread the wires from the branches and foliage. Everyone, except Heidi left the stacking and rushed off to help. Heidi struggled alone with the remaining tables.
“Let me help you with that, Heidi.” Hans had noticed the girl’s predicament and turned back. He lifted one end of the trestle table so that she could fold away its legs. “It’s far too heavy for a girl,” he commented. They had almost finished, when Miss Turner walked over.
“I’m pleased to see you are lending a hand, Resmel. When you first came here, hard work was never one of your strong points. Why, I almost think you’re beginning to grow up!”
He made no comment. She could cut through ice with her words when she so wished and he had begun to realise that it did him no good to make any remarks back to her. She had a frosty way and he was certain nothing could be done to thaw her out. The matron nodded her head in satisfaction. “Good. Yes, good, Mr Resmel.” She caught sight of the groundsman. “Ah, Mr Cummins,” and rushed off to remind him about the rubbish bins. Hans and Heidi carried the last table outside and across the courtyard to the small store shed at the rear. After the table had been stored away, they dawdled back to the hall. Heidi seemed to be troubled about something, for several times she tried to get out the words but everything was jumbled and nothing was making sense. Hans stopped walking. He grabbed Heidi roughly by the arm.
“Heidi, tell me what’s wrong.”
“Hänschen, I’ve had a letter, she said, her bottom lip beginning to quiver.”
“Who from?”
“The government. It says I have to go.”
“Go? Where go?”
If it was was he thought it was, it came to him as a bullet in the chest. He waited while Heidi composed herself enough to talk.
“I must return to Austria. No more visa to stay. I have to leave.”
Hans did not know what to say. He didn’t realise Heidi would be with them for such a short time. He’d only just got used to having her around him. Her presence made him easier and far less homesick.
“I’m s . . . sorry,” he stammered. “I’ll miss you dreadfully.”
“I’m sorry, also, she replied.”
“So?” He kicked at the ground. There was a silence before he cleared his throat and asked when she had to leave.
“Not for a month but I cannot stay longer.”
Hans wondered how he could cheer her up. He tried to think of something to light-hearted to say. Suddenly, he had an idea.
“Heidi, if you’ve got the day off tomorrow, and it’s not raining, maybe we could go for a walk up the hill. I know of a great place up there where you can see for miles. You’d love it, Heidi, not as good as our Alpen meadows but still a good view. What do you say to that?”
Heidi’s eyes lit up. Even if the day rained, she wouldn’t mind. A walk in the country was just what she needed.