‘Yes, I was a bureaucrat in Budapest—what a line! I should write a song!—a statistician. Shall I tell you what that is? Here, I intend to make money—what else? I did not escape into the capitalist west in order to work for a salary for the rest of my life. Oh, there is a fortune to be made here by anyone with a reasonable knowledge of economic statistics and a little imagin ation—several fortunes.
My friends are doing it all the time and they have no knowledge even of statistics. You see, the country is underdeveloped and the population must also be increased as quickly as feasible. So I intend to become rich, myself; I will be doing a favour to everybody. Tell me, do you prefer Brahms to Beethoven or Tchaikovsky to both?
You are not sure? Well. I will take care of that too if you will permit me. You have such musicality or you could not dance so well. No, I am quite serious. This is a serious matter. So you are reading Anna K, are you—ah, so Lisa lent it to you. Remarkable. Well, life is, fortunately, long, even though not as long as art, so you have plenty of time to finish it and go on to the rest. You are already extremely well-read for a dancer. But now I think it is time for me to shut up, as they say, because you are ready for the dessert and I have not yet finished this, so while I do so I think you had better tell me the story of your life. Begin at the beginning! Who was your father?’
And Fay began to tell, for the first time ever, the story of her life, and as it became quite a sad story quite soon—for her father had been killed in the war when Fay was eleven years old and her elder brother fifteen, and this misfortune had been extended in its consequences through a series of poor choices and contrivances on the part of Fay’s well-meaning but not very competent mother— Rudi brought it to a temporary halt at the point where Fay left school at the unwisely early moment of her sixteenth birthday, and called for the dessert menu.
‘It is time for you now to eat something very sweet and tasty,’ he said. ‘I can recommend the chocolate pudding here, it is formidable. Let me digest the story so far before you give me the next chapter. I had not imagined you to have such a tale to tell—you Australians are mysterious people, no one would guess that this is a place where people can also suffer. It is the constant sunshine, it hides everything but itself.’
Fay was glad to stop talking for the time being, for oddly enough she now found that her tale was affecting her too: she had almost been on the point of tears at one or two moments.
‘Listen,’ said Rudi, ‘let me tell you a Hungarian joke. Let me see, I must translate.’
She laughed so much that tears—now—came into her eyes. How sweet she is, thought Rudi. A nice healthy Australian girl, just as I commanded, but with a tragic tale withal. What a lucky bastard I am. Then he had, unchar acteristically, a twinge of doubt.
Does she like me? he wondered. I’ll have to be careful. He did hope that she did for, if she did, he thought it quite possible that he might actually decide to marry her.
‘What would you like to do tomorrow night?’ he asked. ‘Shall we see if there is a concert programme which appeals? I’ll look at the Herald in the morning and telephone you in the afternoon.
Well, your landlady will have to put up with it—I will smother her in Middle European charm, don’t worry, she will soon be looking forward to my telephone calls, she will not mind the disturbance at all.’
He’s so nice, thought Fay. I never knew men could be so nice.
What on earth does he see in me? She wasn’t even trying any more, she was simply swept along on the tide of Rudi’s energy and charm.
It was the most entirely novel, and the most blissful, sensation.
45
‘Stefan, please be entirely frank with me. Do you think I am too fat in this costume?’
Magda posed herself attractively in the bedroom doorway, one hand placed on a well-rounded hip, the other gracefully resting against the jamb; she was wearing a two-piece swimming costume made of a white material with large dark red fl owers printed on it.
‘No, no, not for a minute,’ Stefan assured her. He was reading the Sunday papers, such as they were, waiting for Magda to be ready.
‘Stefan, please be serious,’ said Magda. ‘Tell me what you really think.’
‘I have done so,’ said Stefan, ‘I was never more serious in my life. You are not too fat in that costume.’
‘Not too fat,’ said Magda, ‘but fat, yes?’
‘No,’ said Stefan, ‘not in fact fat at all.’
‘I suppose you mean plump,’ said Magda.
‘I am beginning to wish I had never been born,’ said Stefan.
‘Yes, I know what you mean,’ said Magda. ‘I feel like this when my own husband will not give me his frank opinion. It is little enough to ask.’
‘My frank opinion, for the last time, is that the costume and the person inside it look perfectly okay. So could you collect your necessities now and let us be off, for I must say that if we are not on our way within five minutes I believe I shall go quite mad.’
Magda turned with a sigh and he heard her clattering about.
She re-emerged in a dark blue one-piece costume over which she had thrown a beach robe.
‘I like you in that costume too,’ Stefan said, ‘almost as much as the other.’
Magda clucked.
‘Let us go, then,’ she said. ‘I do not want to see you go mad.’
They argued about whether they would go to Bilgola or to Whale Beach, and decided at last on the latter just as they were approaching the former, but at last they were settled under their umbrella with their towels and cushions, books and picnic basket, in time for a swim before lunch. After the swim they argued no more; the blue Pacific had washed away all their irritation, as it generally does.
While they were eating their cold chicken Magda said, ‘Have you noticed something strange? We have heard nothing from Rudi this weekend. I wonder why.’
‘Well, he is obviously engaged elsewhere,’ said Stefan.
‘No, but where?’ asked Magda.
‘Oh, good heavens, how should I know? There is any number of possibilities,’ said Stefan.
‘I would not have thought so,’ said Magda. ‘I see only one.’
‘And what could that be?’ asked Stefan incredulously.
‘Well, did you not see who he left the party with?’ said Magda.
‘No,’ said Stefan, ‘I did not notice. Rudi I think always leaves a party with a girl, usually the prettiest—but I did not see him go.’
‘I did,’ said Magda. ‘He left with Fay. He was taking her home.’
‘That is the least he could do,’ said Stefan, ‘after you had gone to the trouble of asking her, a nice healthy Australian girl, just for his benefit. Didn’t he say he wanted to marry such a one? So it would seem perfectly in order for him to take her home after the party, to say nothing of for the rest of her life. He must begin somewhere. They are probably married by now, come to think of it—the party is almost a week ago.’
‘Oh do be serious,’ said Magda. ‘How can you joke about such a matter? If Rudi is indeed with Fay now, if he is continuing to see her, then I feel I should know of it. I feel responsible.’
‘And well you might,’ said Stefan. ‘I thought it was you who were not serious, when you proposed inviting her in order to accommodate Rudi.’
‘Well, I was and I wasn’t,’ said Magda. ‘I was half-serious. But no more. Whereas, if Rudi is seeing her, then the thing becomes more than half-serious, and I feel my responsibility.’
‘I do not see why you worry,’ said Stefan. ‘She is an adult, after all. She can look after herself.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Magda. ‘Rudi is rather a wolf, I believe. She is a naïve Australian girl, experienced no doubt only with clumsy Australian men. I wonder whether she can deal with someone like Rudi.’
‘Oh, what is this fuss,’ said Stefan. ‘He cannot harm her. He is probably a very amusing companion for her. She is probably having the time of her life.’
&nbs
p; ‘So long as she does not get her heart broken,’ said Magda darkly. ‘It will be my fault if she does.’
‘Oh, do not dramatise,’ said Stefan. ‘They will live happily ever after, and have many fine children, they will ask you to be the godmother, and will be in your debt forever for having introduced them to each other.’
‘Do not joke, I implore you,’ said Magda. ‘You know perfectly well that such a match is quite impossible. Rudi and Fay! I only thought he might amuse himself a little at the party with his healthy Australian girl—and she dances very well, did you see? She told me she had been for a while a professional—that is all. I did not take his idea of marrying seriously, I did not think he meant me to do so. But if he is taking her out now—well, that I would not have expected. What can they have in common? He will break her heart yet, you will see.’
‘This is melodrama,’ said Stefan. ‘The reality is that both are at a loose end, it suits them both for the time being to see each other, that is all. Look! I am almost as bad as you—we do not know if they are in fact seeing each other at all. Rudi may be amusing himself at this moment with someone quite different.’
‘No, I feel he is with Fay,’ said Magda portentously, ‘and I hope that there is only amusement, on each side. But she is a woman, although an Australian, so you know it is never after all only amusement on the part of a woman. The heart is always engaged, and so may be broken. And it will be my fault.’
‘I think you are crossing the bridge before the horse has bolted,’ said Stefan. ‘It is time for another swim. Come along!’
‘I should have telephoned Magda and Stefan this weekend,’ said Rudi. ‘I have seen them so often; they will think my silence odd. I will do it later perhaps.’
He and Fay were sitting on a large towel on Tamarama beach eating sandwiches provided by Fay: there were two rounds filled with peanut butter and celery, and two with cheddar cheese and lettuce. Rudi was charmed.
‘So these are Australian sandwiches, are they?’ he asked.
‘I suppose they must be,’ said Fay. ‘Are they different from Continental sandwiches?’
‘I will make you some one of these days,’ Rudi assured her, ‘and you will see.’
He ate another, pensively, tasting the fl avour of the country.
There was fruit to eat afterwards and then Fay read some more Anna while Rudi looked about him, sizing up the young women and making mental notes on the behaviour of the families in the vicinity.
He was fairly sure that the forthcoming chapter of Fay’s life story would contain details which she might feel some shame in divulging, for if ever there were a girl who had, according to the code of the time and place, fallen, however inadvertently, then Fay was likely to be that girl. The thing was to elicit the details as quickly and painlessly as possible, to reassure her, and to pass on swiftly to the tale’s conclusion which must thereafter be nigh. Then, after delivering a somewhat edited account of his own amours, he could at last begin to prepare the ground for a possible proposal of marriage. What a time these things took!
‘I have decided to live in the Eastern suburbs, by the way,’ he remarked. The North Shore is very pretty but it is too far away. And on this side there is more bustle, it is more like city than surburban life. So I am going to look seriously for a flat this week—I prefer Bellevue Hill but it is so expensive; perhaps I will try Rose Bay or Vaucluse. What do you think?’
‘Well, they’re all nice,’ said Fay wonderingly.
Rudi was talking about the posh side of the Eastern suburbs; well, he had announced his intention of making lots of money; perhaps he would begin to do it soon. Oh, how frightened she felt.
Here she was, with an extraordinary man, so kind, so understanding, so funny, and attractive too, and determined to be rich into the bargain, and why he was interested in her was an entire mystery; but the point was, that soon—for she was sure she could not conceal these episodes—he would learn about Mr Marlow and Mr Green, and that would very likely be that. In the midst of the blissful sensation which Rudi’s attentions to her had induced she felt the sudden sharp bite of fear. My life is wrecked, she thought; she put down her book and looked out at the sea.
‘A penny for your thoughts!’ said Rudi.
‘Oh, nothing,’ said Fay sadly.
‘Tonight, when we are having dinner,’ said Rudi, ‘for that is what we shall do tonight if you are free—yes?—good—you will tell me the rest of your story. Or would you rather tell it to me now?’
‘No,’ said Fay. ‘I’ll wait until tonight.’
It will be easier with something to drink, she thought.
‘After that it will be my turn to tell you about my own disgraceful past,’ said Rudi. ‘You will probably not want to know me after you have heard the tale!’
Fay looked at him uncertainly, and then they smiled at each other. Rudi leaned over and kissed her cheek. She suddenly realised that everything was going to be quite all right.
‘It’s time for another swim,’ Rudi said. ‘Come along!’
46
Patty opened her eyes to the new day, and remembering, despaired. For two pins she would have stayed where she was forever. But that wouldn’t do; she must keep going; at least it was Monday again and her duties were plain; there were no dreadful acres of empty time to fill: it was time to rise and get ready for work. She sat up and climbed out of bed, but as her feet touched the floor she was seized by a sudden feeling of quite awful nausea, and she sat rigid until it passed. Then gingerly she stood up and went into the bathroom.
She managed to wash and dress but shortly after putting the bread into the toaster she found the horrible sick sensation seizing her once more, and this time so violently that she ran into the bathroom and threw up. Oh Jesus, she thought, what is happening to me? It can’t be. It must be something I ate yesterday at Manly. It was the meat pie, that’s what it was. I knew I shouldn’t.
She felt quite dazed, here at Goode’s, with the second week of the sales at full throttle all around her. I should look at the swimming cossies in my lunch hour, she thought. Maybe I should get some new clothes, too, like Joy keeps saying. Splash out. But she felt so sick, so weak, that when her lunch hour came she could do no more than retire to the canteen. Fay didn’t accompany her.
‘I’m going to change and then look over the sales things,’ said she brightly. ‘I need some new clothes!’
Oh yes, thought Patty bitterly. Make hay while the sun shines. She felt dreadful, sitting in the canteen with a cup of tea and a salad sandwich from which she had taken only one bite.
‘Off your food? That’s no good!’ cried a sharp voice, and its owner sat down suddenly in the chair next to hers.
‘Oh hello, Paula,’ said Patty wanly.
‘How’s the nightie?’ asked Paula, with a vaguely suggestive smirk.
Patty tried to smile.
‘Oh, it’s fine,’ she said. ‘It’s really nice. I should have bought two.’
‘Yes, I told you,’ said Paula. ‘They’ve all gone now so you’re too late. Still, we’re getting new stock in a fortnight so you should pay us another visit, you might see something else as good.’
‘Yes, I will,’ said Patty.
She was desperate. Paula’s question, the conversation which followed, were terrible reminders of her situation and its prelude.
But a brilliant light suddenly at this moment flashed on in her mind.
She had never previously quite seen that the night of the black nightdress and Frank’s disap pearance, the one event following so hard upon the other, might in fact be connected in some way.
A vast area of speculation was revealed but where she was to begin to speculate she did not know. She had never had to think in such a manner before and did not know how it was to be done; she knew only that the possibility of a connection was placed before her, and that if the connection were to be established, she might then know something about the reason for Frank’s disappearance. But all opportunity for
further thought was snatched away by Paula who continued to chatter brightly until it was time for Patty to return to Ladies’ Cocktail. The burning desert of the long afternoon now stretched before her.
Shortly after three o’clock Lisa noticed a weatherbeaten-looking man hovering about on the edge of the Ladies’ Cocktail section and she took particular note of him for the three very good reasons that, one, it was excessively rare to see a man (other than Mr Ryder) on this floor at all, and two, that if one were to see a man (other than Mr Ryder) here it would be a Rudi-ish sort of man, and not, three, someone who looked like one of the strange bipeds to be seen in the vicinity of the Hotel Australia during the week of the Sheep Show. I wonder if I should ask him what he wants, she thought. He must be lost.
Fay noticed the man at just this moment.
‘Gee, look at that,’ she said in a low murmur to Lisa. ‘He’s a long way from home!’
The two began to giggle and this sound alerted Miss Jacobs.
‘Now, you two,’ she said, ‘save your laughter until after hours. I can’t see what’s so funny about this section at the moment. Haven’t you got better things to do? There’s Patty doing all the putting-away. You see if you can’t help her while we’ve got a few moments to ourselves.’
The two young women turned away to do her bidding but a customer approached as they did so and Fay remained at the counter to take her money. Lisa took a step towards the rail where Patty was replacing some frocks which had been tried on and found wanting but at this instant the man, whom she had managed (intrigued as she mightily was) to keep in her sights all the while, began to come nearer. He seemed to be approaching Lisa herself—how odd!— perhaps he wanted help after all; perhaps he wished to buy a frock for his wife and wanted advice for which he had only now found the courage to ask. As Lisa reached the rail of frocks, Patty, who had had her back towards both Lisa and the strange weatherbeaten man, turned around.
The Women in Black Page 13