‘She is someone to talk about, isn’t she?’ said Pia, wondering why she felt pangs.
‘Is she?’ said Carl. ‘Well, she’s a very unknown quality. I’ve never met her myself. I have parents and sisters, but no wife.’
‘Oh,’ said Pia and the pangs went away.
‘I also have a Benz. In these days that’s not such a worry as a wife.’
‘A Benz?’ said Pia.
‘Motor car,’ said Carl, and thought about the Benz and James and his sisters.
‘Please don’t go dreaming again, that isn’t very flattering,’ said Pia, then wondered what was happening to her that she could say something so silly.
‘Do you wish to be flattered, signorina? No, I think not.’ Carl was ironic. ‘That sort of thing is, in fact, unwelcome to modern women, isn’t it? In the world that’s coming all words must be practical, all actions useful.’
Agitated, Pia said, ‘You have no right to say things like that to me.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Carl and they sat in silence for a while. It did not seem to worry him. He had his cognac for warm company. She sipped her wine, grateful that it enabled her to keep her eyes lowered.
‘How long do you have before they send you back to the pass again?’ she asked when she was calmer.
‘Do you mean how long before I’m out of your house?’
He was unbreakably hard. She had not meant that at all.
‘I think perhaps you don’t really wish us to be friends,’ she said.
‘But I speak Italian with you. Isn’t that friendly?’
‘Yes. Yes, I suppose so.’ It was ridiculous, the things that were suddenly important to her. ‘But how long do you have? You see, Mariella wishes you to be her best friend, and I should like to tell her you will at least not be gone by tomorrow.’
‘You must know, signorina, that we are usually only out of the line for short spells. But Mariella?’ Carl smiled. It diminished his bleakness and set Pia’s emotions dangerously on edge again. She was alarmed at what was happening to her. ‘We need say nothing to Mariella about going,’ he said.
‘I must get back,’ said Pia. She did not have to, not immediately, but she felt she needed sanctuary and the reassurance of her mirror. Her mirror would tell her she was still resolutely Italian, wouldn’t it?
‘May I walk with you?’ asked Carl.
Her sense of immediate pleasure was such that she was not sure if she would look into her mirror at all.
She said lightly, ‘Oh, now I am flattered.’
It was only ten minutes to the house. She did not hurry and he measured his pace with hers. She asked him what his interests were and whether he would like to talk about them.
Was she off her head? thought Carl. What interests did she think he could have except in staying alive?
‘I’ve few interests at the moment,’ he said. ‘What are yours?’
‘Oh, I just have my family,’ she said, and it did not occur to her that her omission of separatism represented to him a large hole in her answer.
‘The English,’ he said, ‘always talk about the weather when they can find nothing else to discuss.’
‘That must be very dull. They are dull too, I suppose.’
‘Should you say that about your friends?’
‘My friends?’ Pia refused to concede. ‘The English aren’t my friends.’
‘They’re your allies, they’re on your side, fighting for your Italy.’
Pia felt a rush of unhappiness.
‘I am an Austrian subject, you have told me so yourself.’
‘But I am quite aware you’re an unwilling one,’ said Carl. ‘I don’t think we should discuss that again. I met someone from England just before the war.’
‘I’m sure she wasn’t dull,’ said Pia.
‘She?’ he said, and Pia felt herself the hapless victim of the set thought patterns peculiar to a woman becoming far too interested in a particular man.
‘He?’ she suggested.
‘Well, he or she,’ said Carl drily, ‘he wasn’t dull. He nearly broke my sister Sophie’s heart. No dull man could have done that—’
‘Oh, what happened?’ Pia felt suddenly and intensely curious.
‘What happened? The war,’ said Carl.
‘But,’ she began, and then she said, ‘Oh. I see. Oh, how sad.’ She paused. ‘I want you to know,’ she said, ‘that my mother sometimes says I’m a great donkey.’
‘I can tell you,’ said Carl, ‘that in my time I’ve been the greatest of idiots.’
He was smiling. It warmed Pia. As they went up the steps to the house she said, ‘Thank you, it has been very pleasant.’
‘Pleasant?’ said Carl.
‘Well, we did not actually quarrel, did we?’ she said. They parted in the hall. She sought her mother and found her in the cosy sitting room, darning some of Mariella’s woollen stockings. One had to do that sort of thing these days. In the past old stockings had been given away and new ones bought.
Signora Amaraldi, watching Pia taking off her hat and shaking her hair, said, ‘You came in together.’
‘Yes.’ Pia was glowing. ‘We met by the bandstand. They were playing music, an Austrian regimental band, would you believe.’
‘That’s the Austrians for you. When they should be miserable they’re playing music. So what difference is there between them and Italians?’
‘Mama, I’m not going to argue with you,’ said Pia, ‘I’m going to say we must still be careful but that needn’t stop us from being nice to him.’
‘Haven’t I been saying that myself?’
‘Well, I am saying it too now,’ said Pia.
Her mother used shrewd eyes on her daughter.
‘While you’re being nice,’ she said, ‘remember you’ve said we must still be careful. I think you must be more careful than any of us.’
‘I’d never be indiscreet, never,’ said Pia.
‘I’m not talking about being indiscreet.’
The front door knocker sounded. Maria answered it, then came to say an Austrian officer had called. Pia went into the hall, a polite smile masking apprehension. A grey-haired major clicked his heels.
‘Major Wessel, Fräulein Amaraldi,’ he said.
‘Yes, Herr Major?’ She spoke in German. She was being careful.
‘I wish to see Major Korvacs. Is he in?’
Pia heard Mariella’s burst of laughter upstairs. Major Korvacs was obviously with her sister. She took Major Wessel up. She felt a little worried. Carl came out of Mariella’s room and took Major Wessel to his own. Pia had lost some of her glow by the time she returned to the sitting room.
‘Mama, I think someone has come to order Major Korvacs back to the front.’
‘Perhaps that’s all for the best,’ said Signora Amaraldi.
‘It isn’t for him,’ said Pia, ‘he’s done his share. Mama, four years. You can see that just by looking at him.’
‘I have seen it. It was there when he first entered the house. Men go to war thinking it’s not much more than a game. Major Korvacs discovered long ago that it has nothing to do with games at all.’
Pia swished restlessly about.
‘I wish,’ she said, ‘you wouldn’t be so wise and superior and know everything.’
‘I don’t know everything, but I know a little about men. And I know about you, with your Italian flag and other things tucked away in the attic.’
‘Oh, hush!’
‘Suddenly it isn’t so simple, girl, is it?’
‘Is anything?’ Pia would not be drawn.
‘Are you beginning to think that Austrians are people too?’
‘Oh, I’ve never been as prejudiced as that! There are Austrians here, people we know and have lived with. But we are Italian—’
‘Then let us go and live in Italy and not plot to throw bombs at people we’ve lived with.’
‘I would never do that, you know I wouldn’t! Oh, you’re as unkind as he is sometimes—’ Pia broke off and turn
ed her back.
‘Ah,’ said her mother, ‘he’s been telling you you have no sense, I suppose. Well, you’ll have to change your ways to impress a man like him.’
‘I wouldn’t do that for any man,’ said Pia proudly, ‘I’d want always to be myself. Mama, please, I’m only saying Major Korvacs has been in the war a long time and that we should be sympathetic.’
‘I know exactly what you’re saying,’ said Signora Amaraldi. ‘If they’re sending him back to that pass, however, it’s prayers he’ll need, not sympathy. And we must hope the military authorities won’t ask us to lodge anyone else.’
‘We must be firm,’ said Pia, ‘we have to keep the room ready for Major Korvacs when he comes back.’
‘Oh?’ Dark eyebrows lifted. ‘There’s a change in our standing as a fine old Italian family, is there?’
Pia, restlessly picking up china ornaments and replacing them, said, ‘Mama, there’s Mariella. She likes Major Korvacs very much, she wouldn’t want anyone else here. She’d want us to keep his room for him—’
‘Are you crazy, girl? Do you think we’re keeping a hotel or pensione, with rooms reserved? Major Korvacs is a good man, yes, but you’ll be storing up trouble for us all if you encourage the authorities to keep lodging him on us. As far as I’m concerned, he’s more than welcome, but you know as well as I do that feelings aren’t important. Ah – or are they?’
‘I have simply come to understand I can’t blame Major Korvacs personally for Austrian oppression of Tyrolean Italians.’
‘I’ve never felt oppressed. You have, your father has. Look at me, Pia, instead of walking around in circles.’ Signora Amaraldi looked long and hard as Pia faced her. ‘Listen to me. What do you think your father would say if he knew you’d been walking out with an Austrian officer?’
‘He would say it was a big song and dance about nothing, because I’ve been walking out with nobody! I met Major Korvacs by accident and he saw me home. Did I ask him to? No.’
‘Good,’ said Signora Amaraldi, ‘it’s as well not to invite trouble, it knocks at one’s door all too often without being asked.’
‘You seem comfortably off here,’ said Major Wessel, looking around the spacious, well-appointed bedroom with its marble-topped washstand, polished tallboy, wardrobe, dressing table, pictures and chairs. The bed itself was huge, its brass gleaming.
‘I wouldn’t deny that,’ said Carl.
‘You’ll appreciate how short we always are of suitable accommodation,’ said Major Wessel, ‘and we felt we had at least found a reasonable residence for you, even though it was Italian. If you can hang on for another day or so I think we can offer you accommodation with an Austrian family. The house of Pietro Amaraldi isn’t quite the right place, I know, but—’
‘Pietro Amaraldi? Should that name mean something to me?’
‘It does to others.’ Major Wessel stood squarely to the window, from which the view was of glittering snow. ‘Pietro Amaraldi has been agitating for years to have the Trentino region unite with Italy. He’s a leading irredentist.’
‘And head of this family?’ Carl was not very interested.
‘Yes,’ said Major Wessel, too old to be anything but an administrative officer and frankly glad about it. ‘The authorities intended to put him away somewhere when Italy declared war, but he saw it coming and slipped us. However, he was captured, with thousands of Italians, at Caporetto last year. But he escaped. The authorities would like to get him back. We searched this house some time ago. He’s the kind of man outrageous enough to come calling on his family. It’s believed he’s back in Italy now. Very wise of him.’
‘It saves him getting shot,’ said Carl.
‘Yes.’ Major Wessel turned. ‘You’ve found the family unfriendly?’
‘Not at all.’ Carl’s smile was thin.
‘Well, they’re not in a position to be too outspoken, although they have land and farms in the area and consider themselves better than others.’
‘True, the family portraits do look down on one.’
‘The farms are managed and worked for them,’ said Major Wessel. ‘I imagine it’s a blow to their pride to have to quarter a military man.’
‘My pride has felt no blow,’ said Carl, ‘why should theirs?’
‘They’re so damned Italian,’ said Major Wessel. ‘But look here, I didn’t want you to think your request had been pigeonholed. In two days at the outside I can promise you—’
‘Yes, thank you,’ said Carl, ‘allow me to see you out.’
They parted on fairly friendly terms at the front door, then Carl went back up to his room. Pia, talking to Mariella, heard him. Mariella had just asked if she could get up.
‘Yes, after lunch,’ said Pia, ‘but wrap up warmly.’
‘Oh, I will. Pia, someone has just been to see Major Korvacs.’
‘I know.’
‘He’s not going to leave us yet, is he?’
‘I shouldn’t think so,’ said Pia,’ I’ll find out.’
She knocked on his door a minute later.
‘Come.’ His voice sounded wetly muffled.
Pia looked in. He was cleaning his teeth at the washstand. He wiped his mouth on the towel.
‘Signorina?’
Pia said very casually, ‘Oh, it’s Mariella.’
‘Yes?’
He was always so calm, so much in command. Her father could fire off a thousand hot-blooded words for every precise one spoken by Major Korvacs. She could have dealt so much better with her emotions if he had been like most of the other Austrian officers she knew, extrovert and reckless.
She said, ‘It’s just that Mariella asked whether you have to go.’
‘Not immediately,’ said Carl. ‘Major Wessel is the billeting officer. He called to offer me the opportunity of alternative accommodation in a day or two.’
‘Alternative accommodation?’ Pia thought she had never heard such woodenly unattractive words.
‘It’s nothing personal,’ said Carl, ‘simply that I put in a request when I realized it was inconvenient for you to lodge me here.’
Pia stared at him. Humiliation crimsoned her.
‘Oh, how could you! Major Korvacs, how could you! Oh, to do that, to insult us so! I shall never forgive you!’ She swept out, she ran to her room.
He appeared at lunch, as correct as ever. Pia would not look at him, but her mother was more philosophical.
‘You are leaving us, I understand, Major Korvacs,’ she said as they began their lentil soup.
‘Yes, in about four or five days,’ he said, ‘I doubt if our rest period will last longer than that.’
‘Four or five days?’ Signora Amaraldi looked puzzled. ‘But Pia said—’
‘No,’ interrupted Pia angrily, ‘I only repeated what Major Korvacs said.’
‘Yes, that he was moving to another house in a day or so.’
‘I was offered that,’ said Carl. He broke a piece of black bread.
‘Yes, because you had made a request.’ Pia was vehement. ‘Mama, we are insulted—’
‘Pia!’ Signora Amaraldi flashed her eyes at her daughter.
‘When I saw Major Wessel out,’ said Carl, spooning soup, ‘I told him I was so comfortable here that I wished to remain. Certainly, I’ve no wish to leave my young friend Mariella until I have to. She’s to get up this afternoon, she tells me. We’ve arranged to play chess.’
Pia was reduced to devil-provoked speechlessness. Oh, he was out of cold hell, this one. Deliberately he had let her make an idiot of herself. Had he enjoyed that? Did he dislike her so much?
Finding her voice she gasped, ‘Oh, you are impossible, you told me you were moving to another house, you said nothing about remaining here!’
‘I said I’d been offered the chance to move,’ said Carl. ‘Signora Amaraldi, in the middle of my answer to her question, your daughter vanished.’
‘Ah, she never stops to think,’ said Signora Amaraldi, ‘she runs and rushes where everyon
e else walks. She has no head, Major Korvacs.’
Bitterly Pia said, ‘Yes, I have told him I am a senseless donkey.’
‘Let us enjoy the soup,’ said Carl, ‘it’s very good.’
‘Major Korvacs,’ said Pia, while her mother watched her out of knowing eyes, ‘when I next ask you a question will you please not reply in such a deceptive way?’
‘If you will promise to stay and listen,’ said Carl, ‘I’ll be as straightforward as I can.’
Signora Amaraldi smiled. Pia bit her lip.
Chapter Six
To keep Mariella cosy and to give Major Korvacs no reason to complain, Pia saw to it that the drawing-room fire was ablaze that afternoon. The piled logs crackled and the armchairs grew warm. The chess table was moved close to the fire. There Mariella and Carl sat down to play. Signora Amaraldi, who enjoyed domestic tasks and accordingly worried less about the shortage of servants than Pia did, settled herself in her chair with a basket of sewing on her lap.
Mariella, fire giving her a glow, turned the chess pieces out of the box.
‘I’m white, that’s Italian,’ she said with adolescent ingenuousness, ‘you’re black, that’s Austrian.’
‘Black, hm,’ said Carl. ‘Very well, my young friend.’
‘I shan’t mind if you win,’ said Mariella.
‘I’ll be racked with shame if I don’t,’ said Carl, ‘you’re only half my size.’
‘It’s brains that count, not size,’ said Mariella.
‘Ah,’ said Carl, ‘that’s a different kettle of fish.’
‘Never mind,’ said Mariella magnanimously, ‘you are still nice.’
‘Thank you,’ said Carl, ‘you are quite my best friend.’
They began the game. Mariella was good and played with youthful, earnest confidence. Pia, who had been upstairs, came in. She had changed into a brown velvet dress. It gave her a rich, lush look. She had recovered from her lunchtime brush with Carl.
‘May I watch?’ she asked, putting her hands on an armchair.
‘As long as you don’t talk,’ said Mariella.
Carl got up and brought the armchair forward so that Pia could sit next to her sister. Pia thanked him and asked who was winning.
‘I am,’ said Mariella, ‘but Carl is doing awfully well for someone without much brains.’
The Longest Winter Page 30