A Silver Lining

by Anne Douglas

One day, she decided, she would take him along to see a pantomime, and it would be just one more strand for him to learn about and enjoy, as she would learn German and all the things he would teach her about Vienna in their future life together.

  A happy daze seemed to occupy her then, and she had to concentrate hard to return to her seat for the rest of the performance. Already, in her mind, she was seeing Viktor arriving at the station, stepping off the train and looking for her, and they were meeting at last, holding, touching, their eyes filled with delight – had it not really happened, then?

  Not then, but only eight days later, when she’d taken an extra day’s holiday, all that she’d dreamed came true. She really was on a Waverley Station platform, seeing Viktor’s train come steaming in from London. She really did see his handsome face at one of the doors, his far-sighted blue eyes searching, finding, smiling – and then he opened the door and hurtled out with his cases, dropping them as she ran to him and they were in each other’s arms.

  ‘Oh, Jinny, liebchen!’ he was murmuring against her face. ‘It’s been so long! So long without you! Wasn’t it long for you?’

  ‘Never ending, never ending! But you’re back now and I’m so happy!’

  At last, their mouths were able to meet in a first ecstatic homecoming kiss that seemed as though it would never end, when a voice sharp as a shot close by made them made them spring apart, their faces stricken.

  The voice was Mr Comrie’s.

  Twenty-Six

  The bakery owner’s face was scarlet, his round eyes outraged as his gaze went from Viktor to Jinny and back to Viktor.

  ‘What’s the meaning of this?’ he asked, oblivious of the flow of passengers from the London train hurrying around the tableau of their three standing figures.

  ‘I come to the station, Viktor, to give you a lift home, and what do I find? My nephew kissing one of my own employees, a young woman whose welfare I’m responsible for, as I am for all who work for me!’

  ‘Uncle, I didn’t know you were coming to meet me,’ Viktor interrupted. ‘I didn’t expect you to come.’

  ‘That’s obvious! But I knew which train you were likely to get, and I thought I’d do you a favour and take you home quickly as you’d be tired. And all I see is you and Miss Hendrie, behaving in a way that shows me there’s been something going on between the two of you behind my back for who knows how long?’

  Taking off his hat, Mr Comrie mopped his brow with his hand then, replacing the hat, pointed to Viktor’s cases. ‘Pick those up, Viktor, and come home with me – you as well, Jinny – I want the truth from both of you about what’s been going on and what you’ve got to say for yourselves. What your mother’s going to say, Viktor, is another matter.’

  ‘My mother?’ cried Viktor, stricken. ‘Uncle, there’s no need to bring her into this!’

  ‘We’ll discuss that when we’re out of this public place, if you don’t mind. Come away now, the pair of you – the car’s parked nearby.’

  Following Mr Comrie’s plump figure, Jinny walked by Viktor’s side without any conscious feeling of putting one foot in front of the other. To be plunged from delight to the fear of unknown consequences was almost too much to bear, and even Viktor, she felt, could not help her now, though when she looked at him he smiled in encouragement. As though he could make things better! There was too much at stake. At that very moment she might be facing the sack – ‘not a suitable person for his workforce’, Mr Comrie might say. And as for Viktor, he might be made to go home. She caught her breath, thinking of it, seeing the wonderful feeling they shared as a glistening bubble rising away from them, waiting for Mr Comrie’s stick to burst it.

  In the car, Viktor was made to sit next his uncle at the front while Jinny sat at the back, and for the drive to Mr Comrie’s house, in an elegant terrace off the Dean Bridge, no one spoke, the atmosphere carrying so much tension that the trip for Jinny was an ordeal. At one time, she knew, she would have been fascinated to see where Mr Comrie lived because that was where Viktor lived, but now she felt so numb with apprehension that all she wanted was to learn what was going to happen so she could somehow face it.

  Opening his front door, Mr Comrie ushered the young people into a handsome hallway and, as Viktor set down his cases and caught Jinny’s hand in a strong squeeze, a middle-aged woman wearing a dark dress and her grey hair in a bun came forward.

  ‘There you are, Mr Comrie!’ she cried, though her eyes were on Jinny. ‘And Mr Viktor! Did you have a good time in Vienna, then? How was your ma? And your father?’

  ‘Not too bad, thank you, Mrs Orchard, and I had a very good time—’ Viktor was beginning, when Mr Comrie interrupted to say she would hear all the news later.

  ‘For now, Mrs Orchard, we’d like some tea in my study, please. I have some things to discuss with Miss Hendrie here from Accounts. Jinny, this is my housekeeper, Mrs Orchard.’

  After exchanging polite greetings, Jinny, followed by Viktor, was shown into a large, high-ceilinged room furnished with shelves of books, a mahogany desk and comfortable chairs, at which Mr Comrie pointed. ‘Take a seat, please. Tea won’t be long. Then we can talk.’

  Twenty-Seven

  Silence fell. Jinny, glancing at Viktor for possible comfort, thought he seemed calm as he sat in his armchair, but when he met her gaze she saw in his eyes the same sort of anxiety that he must see in hers. He smiled, and his smile was as encouraging as before, but though she tried she couldn’t manage to smile back. For this was no time for smiling.

  She’d never before felt so ill at ease, so afraid for the future, which was now so much in the power of another person. Could she really lose her job for kissing a man on a station platform? A man she loved? Circumstances alter cases, it was said, and it seemed to her quite possible that in this case Mr Comrie would consider himself within his rights to give her the sack.

  ‘Tea, Mr Comrie,’ Mrs Orchard announced, entering with a loaded tray. ‘And I’ve brought some of my shortbread, Mr Viktor, as I know you like it, eh?’

  ‘I do, Mrs Orchard. Scotch shortbread is not served in Vienna, but when I’ve learned to make it perhaps it will be.’

  ‘That’d be grand. Shall I leave it to you to pour, Miss Hendrie?’

  It was the last thing Jinny wanted to do, but as Mrs Orchard withdrew she poured the tea with a shaking hand and passed the cups. Only Viktor ate some shortbread, which he said he should to please the housekeeper, and after the tea was drunk Mr Comrie put the tray on to a side table and sat down to face his nephew.

  ‘Now, Viktor, you can tell me how long this affair has been going on and who knows about it?’

  ‘It’s not an affair, Uncle.’

  ‘Whatever you care to call it, then. I say again, how long has it been going on, and who knows about it?’

  Viktor sighed and moved uneasily in his chair. He looked across at Jinny, who was winding her fingers together, and whose dark eyes were fixed on him.

  ‘How long has it been going on?’ Viktor shook his head. ‘I suppose since we first met.’

  ‘First met?’ echoed Mr Comrie. ‘You mean, as soon as you saw Jinny you decided to make a play for her?’

  ‘A play?’

  ‘Oh, don’t pretend to misunderstand me, Viktor. You know what I’m talking about, and I want to make it plain that I blame you for this whole thing. Jinny would never have thought of getting involved with you if you hadn’t swept her off her feet.’

  ‘That’s not true, Mr Comrie!’ Jinny cried, stung into finding her voice. ‘We were both attracted from the beginning and before we knew what was happening, we were in love. Viktor never swept me off my feet. Our love just happened.’

  Mr Comrie stared, then shook his head. ‘If that’s true, the situation is worse than I thought. The two of you must have been making eyes at each other at work, at my bakery, no doubt with everyone looking on and enjoying it.’

  ‘No, never!’ cried Viktor, his face a mask of anger. ‘It was never like that, Uncle! How c
ould you think that of us? No one knows, no one saw. We kept it secret, is that not so, Jinny?’

  As he turned indignant blue eyes on Jinny, her own gaze fell. Of course, he hadn’t been at the staff party so he didn’t know what Senga had told her about the laughing and tittering that had gone on behind his back and hers, and she’d had no chance to tell him. But what could she say now? Mr Comrie’s gaze was upon her, and with a sinking heart she realized he had correctly guessed the truth of the matter.

  ‘Well, Jinny?’ he asked impatiently. ‘Do people know, or do they not?’

  ‘They don’t know,’ she said after a pause, deciding it was better not to mention Ross’s name. ‘But I think some have guessed.’

  ‘Guessed?’ asked Viktor. ‘Who says they have guessed?’

  ‘Never mind,’ his uncle snapped. ‘It’s plain to me that you’ve become the object of gossip – my own nephew who I had such hopes for! Well, it’s got to stop – I won’t have it. I’ll phone your mother this evening, Viktor, and as you know what she’ll say, I think you should arrange to go home as soon as possible. As for you, Jinny, your best plan is to forget this affair ever happened. It was never going to work out; you’re both from different countries, you have no future together and that’s all there is to it.’

  ‘And did my mother’s love for my father not work out?’ Viktor asked quietly. ‘They were from different countries and they’ve been happy together for years.’

  Mr Comrie hesitated. He put his hand to his brow, and for a moment or two looked away from his nephew’s level gaze.

  ‘That was different,’ he said at last. ‘Your mother was willing to go to your father’s country. What if Jinny doesn’t want to? What if her father doesn’t want it, either? I don’t suppose he’s happy about your seeing Viktor anyway, is he, Jinny?’

  ‘He doesn’t know Viktor.’ Jinny suddenly turned a passionate dark gaze on her employer. ‘But I do, Mr Comrie, and all I can say is that I want to be with him, wherever he is!’

  ‘Oh, Jinny,’ Viktor murmured. ‘Jinny …’

  But Mr Comrie was holding his head and almost groaning. ‘God, what a mess, what a mess! I don’t know what to say, I really don’t. The thing is you’ve given yourselves no time. These things happen, they don’t always last, and with you two – for heaven’s sake, consider the difficulties! You don’t even know which country you’d want to be in!’

  ‘If you’ll give us some time, Uncle, we can work something out,’ Viktor said desperately. ‘Let me stay until November, when I’m due to leave, and if we still feel the same—’

  ‘What? What then?’

  ‘Well …’ Viktor’s eyes went to Jinny, who was standing with her head down, her hands clasped together, looking suddenly so young, so vulnerable that he stretched out his hand to her as though his touch would give her strength. But she didn’t take it, perhaps didn’t see it, and he dropped it to his side.

  ‘Then we make decisions,’ he said in a low voice.

  ‘Decisions,’ Mr Comrie repeated. ‘But have you forgotten your mother, Viktor? She will be very upset, very upset indeed about all this. She’ll want you back home, and you should go.’

  ‘I know what she wants, and I’ve no intention of doing it,’ Viktor said with sudden firmness. ‘I’m not going home to stay under her eye as though I were a child. If you won’t keep me on here, Uncle, I can find a job elsewhere. I believe that there are other firms interested in what I can do.’

  ‘Other firms? What other firms?’

  With a slight shrug, Viktor mentioned two well-known names, at which his uncle became agitated. ‘No, no, Viktor, that won’t do! Your Viennese cakes belong with Comrie’s! It was my idea to bring you over, and I’ve been the one to encourage and promote them. To make them elsewhere would be utterly disloyal!’

  ‘You’d like me to stay on with you, then?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I would. It’s only fair to me that you should!’

  ‘So what about my mother, wanting me back home?’

  Mr Comrie hesitated. ‘I’ll – I’ll leave telling her for the moment. Maybe you’re right – she needn’t know the situation yet. It would only upset her.’

  ‘You’ll give us time, then, to make sure we know how we feel?’

  ‘Until you are due to go home. And then, as you say, you make your decisions.’ For some moments, Mr Comrie stared at his nephew. ‘At least you are being sensible, Viktor. But you must promise me that you will keep your feelings to yourselves when you’re at work. There must be no more scenes like the one at the station.’

  ‘That was just a welcome home, Uncle. At work things have always been different, anyway.’

  ‘Very well. There’s just one more thing, and this is for you, Jinny. You say your father hasn’t met Viktor. I think he should meet him as soon as possible. In my opinion, he has that right.’

  ‘He has,’ Jinny said bravely. ‘It’s whether he’ll agree to it is the point.’

  ‘Well, do what you can.’ Mr Comrie heaved a great sigh. ‘Now, I think we should get you home. What a day this has turned out to be!’

  Viktor moved to stand next to Jinny. ‘Thank you, Uncle. I’m glad we’ve made things clear. I’ll take Jinny home – you needn’t drive us.’ His glance on her was tender. ‘We’ll take the tram.’

  Twenty-Eight

  When they had settled together on the wooden seating of the Sunday tram that finally appeared, Viktor made Jinny turn her face to his and took her hand.

  ‘You were very quiet back there,’ he whispered, ‘letting me do the talking.’

  Her dark eyes were steady. ‘Except when I told your uncle … what I did tell him.’

  ‘That you’d be glad to be with me wherever I went?’ Viktor pressed her hand hard. ‘That meant a lot to me.’

  ‘You knew it, anyway.’

  ‘You put it into words.’

  ‘And words are important.’

  ‘Liebchen, what are you meaning? I haven’t been saying the right things? Did I not say “Ich liebe dich”?’

  She looked down at his fingers clasping hers. ‘You did, and I know the translation. But what did you mean when you told your uncle that if we still felt the same after a certain time, we’d make decisions?’

  Viktor gazed around the tram, which was only half empty yet still showed enough pairs of eyes and ears for him to look back at Jinny with some concern. ‘Let us wait for our stop. This is not the place to talk, I think.’

  ‘It’s not,’ she agreed, but withdrew her hand from his so that he would not feel it trembling.

  It was better in the darkness of the street, when they’d alighted and could walk together without fear of being overheard, when there was just the two of them ready to face momentous things.

  ‘What did I mean?’ Viktor asked. ‘It was what I had to say. That if we still felt the same about each other, we’d decide to be together.’

  ‘You think we might not feel the same?’

  ‘No! No, Jinny, of course not. I said that to please my uncle; I knew it was what he wanted to hear. That we were prepared to be reasonable.’ He looked anxiously into her face. ‘You understand my reasons, Jinny?’

  ‘Oh, yes, yes, I do! But, you see, we’ve never talked about the future, have we?’

  ‘You mean I have never put anything into words? I suppose that is true.’

  ‘But why not, Viktor? Why not put things into words?’

  ‘Because—’

  He drew her to a halt, and took her gently into his arms. ‘Because I suppose I was thinking that you are still so young, Jinny. I thought again today how young you seemed, how vulnerable, and that’s what’s always been in my mind.’

  ‘I’m not young, Viktor! I mean, not too young. You’re only a few years older than me, anyway, so what are you talking about?’

  ‘Those years matter, Jinny. They’ve made me feel responsible for what I’m asking of you and I used to wonder sometimes if it was too much. I mean, expecting you to move into my
life, giving up what you have here. I wanted you to be sure.’

  ‘Well, now you know I am. I’ve never been so sure of anything before. I agree, we had to let your uncle think we needed time, but it’s just like I said; I want to be with you, wherever you are.’

  ‘But maybe it’s still right, liebchen, to take this time my uncle is giving us. We’ll take it and be happy. We will feel the same at the end of it, but we’ll have proved to my uncle that we’re right to make a life together.’

  ‘So it’s right in every way to take the time,’ she whispered. ‘I feel better now that we’ve decided what to do.’

  ‘And maybe my uncle has done us a favour.’ Viktor smiled. ‘But let’s not talk any more. Just let me kiss you.’

  ‘In the street?’ she asked teasingly. ‘What will your uncle say?’

  ‘The street is dark and there is no one to see us. But if you do not wish it—’

  He was laughing, and so was she. They both knew what they both wished, and kissed long and passionately, time scarcely seeming to exist, except that they did eventually have to part and continue on their way to Fingal Street.

  Here at last was the Hendries’ flat; here were its windows that drew their gaze, as though they might see Jinny’s father looking down. Of course, he wouldn’t be, he’d be at the theatre, where another performance of the pantomime would be about to begin, and yet they felt his presence.

  ‘Somehow I have to persuade Dad to meet you,’ Jinny whispered. ‘And he is very difficult to persuade.’

  ‘Maybe I should be a surprise? One evening you should just bring me in and see what he says.’

  ‘He’s always at work in the evenings.’

  ‘A Sunday, then. A Sunday afternoon?’

  ‘We could try it, but there’s no knowing how he’d take it.’

  ‘I say we do try it. Next Sunday.’

  ‘Next Sunday?’ She gazed at him fearfully. ‘All right, then, if you think it might work.’

  ‘We must make it work. Even if he does not want to meet me, I want to meet him.’