by Susan Barrie
Toni flushed scarlet.
“But I am not a—not a waitress!” she protested. She had nearly said, ‘I am not a musical-comedy barmaid!’ but prevented herself just in time. “And I know nothing at all about waiting. Surely there are other girls here who would be more suitable than I’m likely to be...?”
Marianne’s eyes glinted maliciously,
“What you actually mean, I’m afraid,” she said softly “is that you think you’re a little above waiting on the terrace? You don’t mind ruining your hands on the upper floors, where no one is likely to see you, but you shrink like a modest violet from appearing on the terrace in what you no doubt think of as a chocolate-box uniform, often encountered in the theatre when the programme-girl shows you to your seat! Well, my dear, that sort of attitude is quite all right if you happen to be completely independent, but not here in an hotel where you are dependent on the generosity of the management to provide you with a job.”
“But Monsieur Antoine told me only two nights ago that there would very soon be a vacancy in the office which I could fill,” Toni put in rather desperately.
“Oh, he did, did he?” Marianne tightened her lips. “Well, it is I who organise matters here, and just because you probably pestered him and made complaints—”
“I did nothing of the sort!”
“Well,” shrugging her shoulders impatiently, “you probably looked pathetic and his heart was touched, which it can be sometimes for the most extraordinary of reasons! But the sooner you get it into your head that, while you wish to remain here, it is I who will find work for you and not Monsieur Antoine, then the better it will be for you and everybody else. Monsieur Antoine has absolute confidence in me, and I assure you that if you were so foolish as to make an appeal to him he would snub you as you deserve to be snubbed.”
Toni remained absolutely silent.
Mademoiselle Raveaux, looking slightly ruffled, crushed out her cigarette in an ashtray, and lighted another.
“And while we are on the subject of Monsieur Antoine, you will in future address him only as Monsieur, do you understand? To you he is not Mr. Antoine, or even Monsieur Antoine! He is the owner of this hotel, and has nothing in common with a silly little English girl who was too stupid to keep the job she had in Switzerland!”
Toni spoke stiffly.
“When do you wish me to apply for my uniform to the linen-keeper?” she asked.
“Ah, that is better!” Marianne exclaimed. “A little co-operation and we shall all be much happier.” She attempted to compose her face into an amiable smile. “You will apply for it at once, and you will go on duty at midday. Is that clearly understood?”
Toni answered even more stiffly that it was quite clearly understood.
By the time lunch was nearly over Toni was receiving the co-operation of the other girls with whom she worked, and she was surprised—as well as extremely grateful—because they put themselves out to give her confidence, and prevent her appearing in front of a sea of strangers as if she was as inexperienced as she actually was.
The girls—Vera, Gerda and Elisabeth—encouraged her every time they passed her with their own trays.
“You’re doing fine!” Or its equivalent in German. “That fat man over there can’t eat you, although he looks as if he’d like to! The dress really suits you! ... You look much nicer in it than Trudi did.”
Toni was not at all sure about that. Her skirt felt ridiculously short, billowing out from her slim waist—a froth of lilac banded with black velvet; and her muslin blouse, although crisp and immaculate, had an extremely décolleté neckline. As for her absurd little apron, and the flower in her hair ... those were the final musical comedy touches!
What with her consciousness of her appearance, and her fear that she would drop a tray every time she hurried with one along the sunlit terrace, she was in a continual state of nervous tension, and perspiring profusely—although, fortunately, no one would have guessed it—by the time the terrace had emptied and everyone had disappeared for lunch.
One good thing about this new arrangement was that the waiters served coffee, and she was allowed to go off duty once the aperitif rush was over. Another good thing about that first morning was that neither Kurt Antoine nor Philip Gresham appeared on the terrace during her period of duty, and for this she could not have been more grateful.
Although Antoine was her employer, and it was in his interests that she was dressed up in her eye-catching uniform, she shrank from the thought of meeting his eyes when he first caught sight of her wearing it. And Gresham would be certain to take advantage of the opportunity to talk to her, since all he had to do was lift his finger and beckon her to his table.
“Fraulein, bring me a nice cool lager, will you?”
It was quite easy to imagine the anile in his eyes, and the efforts he would make to detain her.
But somewhat to her surprise when Gresham did first catch sight of her in her new role, and beckoned her over to his table, it was to ask her somewhat explosively what in the world this meant.
“Are you determined to learn the hotel business from the bottom to the top, or vice versa?” he asked. “I could take it when you first appeared on my horizon as a chambermaid; but I’m not at all sure I can take this.” He touched her ridiculously short skirt, and her absurd little apron. “Do you like wearing this get-up?” He was frowning heavily. “If you do you must be more like the sort of girl I first took you for, and somehow I don’t think you are!”
She flushed, because his voice was not merely characteristically English, but it carried clearly as English male voices so often do.
“Really, Toinette, you have handed me a surprise! Or are you doing it for a wager?”
“Of course not,” she answered hurriedly, and bent to excuse herself because someone else wanted her. “I’ll have to go. I—”
“Fraulein!” a guttural German voice called just as impatiently, and just as clearly, as the English voice.
“Tell him to wait on himself!” Philip Gresham exclaimed, with snapping, cold blue eyes. He rose and pushed back his chair. “I’d like to have a few words with you—in fact, I must have a few words with you! —as soon as it’s possible, Toinette. I’m off to Vienna after lunch tomorrow, and I’ll be away about a week. Could you manage to slip out and meet me some time this evening? In that wood where we met before?”
Kurt Antoine strolled along the terrace towards them, and Toni bolted like a startled rabbit at the first hint of his coming.
Gresham regarded him as if he disliked him personally, and then strode off along the terrace in the opposite direction.
Toni was making a disastrous business of filling a glass with Vichy water, when her employer appeared at her elbow and said in a quiet undertone that he would like a few words with her as soon as she was free.
“Come along to my office, will you? I’ll be waiting for you.”
Toni could only think that she had committed some enormous crime to be thus ordered to report to his office; and the customer who had ordered the Vichy water looked openly surprised when she slopped so much of it over the table that she had to fetch a cloth and mop it up. Then, with her heart knocking as if it was attached to a string inside her, she made her way to Kurt Antoine’s office.
She had no need to knock on the door. He must have been listening for her footsteps, for he called out at once:
“Come in!”
Feeling about as noticeable as a tropical bird amongst a gathering of starlings, Toni accepted the invitation, and then accepted another invitation to be seated.
She found it quite impossible to cover her knees with her brief lilac skirt once she had accepted a chair, and she could almost fed Antoine’s eyes staring at the shapeliness of her legs. Then he lifted them to her face, and he asked quietly:
“I want you to tell me something truthfully, Miss Darcy.” The fact that he didn’t call her Toinette filled her with apprehension. “I was amazed when I heard that, in preference
to accepting a position in the office, you had decided to step in and fill the breach left by the departure of Trudi, one of our terrace waitresses. I don’t mind admitting I was so amazed that I could hardly believe it at first! But Marianne assures me that it is true. Apparently glamour appeals to you more than assisting with the routine work of an office!”
If he was amazed by what he had heard Toni was so amazed that she could hardly speak. Then she realised what had happened ... Marianne, fearing that he might be slightly critical of the niche she had found for his protégée, had decided to proffer her explanations before she was asked for them. And in doing so she had made it impossible for Toni to complain, and certainly she had made it impossible for her to state bluntly and baldly that Mademoiselle Raveaux was a distorter of the truth.
“Well?” Antoine was looking at her, frowning at her as if there was just a chance he would have believed her if she had told the truth about Marianne. But it was such a flimsy chance Toni couldn’t take it.
He would probably be so furious with her for destroying—or attempting to destroy—the character of his manageress, that he would sack her, Toni, on the spot.
Toni took a deep breath, and then sacrificed any good opinion of her he might possibly have held.
“I don’t know anything about office work,” she said quietly. “It seemed to me that I should be a— a sort of square peg in a round hole.”
“But you do know something about serving drinks to men who can seize the opportunity to admire your legs?” in such a tone of icy displeasure that she would rather he had accused her of robbing the office safe.
“Of course not.”
“Then shall we say you thought it was an excellent opportunity to acquire that knowledge?”
She swallowed. Her face was so red that she felt as if it was literally on fire.
“I’m disappointed in you,” he remarked. “I thought you would jump at the office job, particularly as I created it especially for you, and in time it might have led to something worth while. However, if you prefer that frilly apron, and that ridiculous flower in your hair...!” He stood up and started to pace about the room, and then came back to her and stared down at her with dark and hostile eyes. “One other thing, before you return to your duties...”
“Yes?” she said, barely above a whisper.
“When I came along the terrace just now you were talking to a man whom, presumably, you had just served with some sort of refreshment, and because he made no effort to keep his voice down I heard very clearly what he was saying. He called you ‘Toinette’, and he said he must have a few words with you—in the wood where you met before!”
Toni felt that this really was a disaster. For a moment she couldn’t even think how to answer him, and then she decided to fall back on a partial truth.
“I think you must be referring to Mr. Gresham,” she replied, finding it difficult to get the words out. “He—I met him on the first day that I was here, and his father is a close friend of a relative of mine...”
“I thought you didn’t possess any relatives?” raking her with his hard eyes.
Her fingers twined and untwined themselves in her lap.
“I don’t ... At least, not relatives I see anything of. This one I haven’t seen for years.”
“But he is a close friend of Mr. Gresham’s father? And Mr. Gresham is a young man with a background, money, position, possibly even influence! Are you quite sure you’re telling me the truth, Miss Darcy?”
“Quite sure.” She looked down at her hands, and she wondered how much longer this inquisition would last.
It lasted another few seconds. He turned his back on her, walked to his desk and picked up his gold-mounted fountain-pen.
“In future you will remember, Miss Darcy, that whether you are on familiar terms with the guests who stay here or not, you will not associate with them in your free time. That is absolutely forbidden! Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she answered. “Yes—Monsieur—I understand.”
“Good,” he said, without turning to look at her again. And as she left his office she thought with a most curious pang that it was extremely unlikely she would ever feel his hand resting warmly and reassuringly on her shoulder again.
And she thought with sudden, bitter envy of Marianne Raveaux, who could do no wrong in his eyes, and didn’t scruple to lie when it suited her.
For the next few days she managed to carry out her new duties without making it too plain that she disliked them, or betraying the fact that she was covered in self-consciousness from the moment she appeared in her pseudo-Tyrolean outfit on the terrace for two painful rush-hour periods each day.
Once, when she was accepting the order of a couple who were newly arrived at the hotel, she saw Marianne and her employer seat themselves at a table to which she was bound to attend, and a sensation like sheer panic took possession of her. To stand before the two of them while Marianne smiled secretly but triumphantly—perhaps even with open triumph—up into her face was something that she suddenly knew was quite beyond her. So when Elisabeth passed her with a tray of drinks she whispered to her urgently that Monsieur and Mademoiselle Raveaux had been waiting for several minutes, and would she attend to them?
Then, without waiting for Elisabeth’s surprised look, she fled inside.
Ten minutes later, slipping back unobtrusively, she found that Antoine and Marianne had been served with drinks; but Marianne beckoned imperiously as soon as she made her appearance.
“Why did you disappear just now?” Marianne asked, in a cold, accusing voice. “You saw that we were waiting—at one of your tables—and you disappeared!”
“I asked Elisabeth to serve you,” Toni replied.
“Quite. And she attended to us immediately. But she has her own tables, and at the moment far more customers on her hands than you have, so why should the extra duty have been placed upon her? Are you in the habit of getting Elisabeth to do a share of your work for you?”
“No, no, of course not!”
“Then don’t let it occur again!” With a cool, dismissing nod she made it plain to Toni that she could go; but although perfectly well aware that, on this occasion, there was some justification for her criticism, her manner of displaying annoyance caused Toni such an unusual rush of resentment that she bit her lip hard, and then threw back her head a little—while careful to avoid Kurt Antoine’s eyes.
“If you consider I’m not satisfactory you can always dismiss me,” she said, with a tremble of anger in her voice. She had a wild vision of herself approaching the nearest Consul and asking for assistance to get home to England; but suddenly it didn’t matter what she did so long as she got away from the Rosenhorn. “In fact, I think it would be a good thing if you agreed to release me immediately, and I could hand my uniform back to the linen-keeper!”
Marianne frowned, although a slight brightening of her eyes indicated that she was not averse to the notion; but Kurt spoke for the first time, in a peculiarly decisive tone of voice.
“Get back to your duties, Toinette. If you have any grievances that you wish aired you can do so later!”
Instantly Marianne, after glancing at him sideways for a moment with a mere flicker of concern, softened. “Of course, if you were not feeling well...”
But Kurt repeated even more decisively:
“Go, Toinette!”
That night, when she had donned her uniform for her second theatrical performance of the day, Toni wondered whether, having already more or less indicated that she would like to be free of a job she could never carry out satisfactorily, and which was so alien to every instinct she possessed that it required a strong effort of will to get through her periods of duty at all, it would or would not be a good thing to stand by the decision she had taken in a moment of violent revulsion and resentment. And she decided that it would.
There must be numbers of jobs that she could perform without sinking to the level of being ordered about by a woman like Mariann
e Raveaux. Even Mrs. Van Ecker had treated her occasionally like an equal, and not as if she was entirely beneath contempt and anything in the nature of consideration.
So when she had donned her lilac skirt that night, and tucked the all-important flower into her hair—actually it made her look extraordinarily attractive, and in some curious way emphasised her dislike of being thrust into the public eye—she found that since it no longer mattered whether she pleased or displeased, she was able to carry out her duties with far more calmness and indifference than usual. She even managed to exchange a natural smile occasionally with the customers, and decided that most of them were quite pleasant—but not the minority of amorous males who deliberately winked at her, touched her skirt as she passed, and made whispered suggestions for meeting somewhere when she was off duty.
It was not until she caught sight of Philip Gresham at one of her tables that a little of her new confidence fled. He frowned at her, and she turned her back on him and rushed back into the cocktail bar to collect an order that she had just received, leaving him still frowning behind her at his table, with the owner of the hotel, impeccably dressed as always for the evening, making a leisurely inspection of the terrace on his way to the hotel dining-room.
The order Toni had received was a large one, and it involved a loaded tray and a large amount of caution if she was neither to drop it nor come into collision with anyone hurrying to the cocktail bar. Philip Gresham, from his seat at the far did of the terrace, was still able to see that she had some difficulty with the swing doors; and he had actually risen to go to her assistance when the accident occurred. A couple of hearty young Americans came thrusting through the swing doors before Toni was entirely clear of them, with the result that she was caught a sharp blow on the head and her tray made an appalling crash as it hit the floor of the terrace.
In the midst of a sea of broken glass, escaping wine and minerals, Toni wondered vaguely what had happened to her. She tried to pick herself up, but the blow on the head had partially stunned her, and she was only vaguely aware that one of her hands was bleeding profusely. It was Philip Gresham who got to her first and hauled her up out of the wreckage, and he was making explosive sounds of sheer fury when Kurt Antoine attempted to put him aside and ascertain for himself how much Toni had been hurt The blood flowing from her hand alarmed him, and he picked it up at once and examined it with a tense, white expression on his face. Then he sighed with relief.