by ILIL ARBEL
He opened the door, and was surprised to see a total stranger, holding a suitcase and a large grocery bag. Putting the grocery bag down, the man took off his hat, exposing an egg-shaped head. His brown eyes, shining with intelligence, looked respectfully at Mr. Alcott’s. It was a look brimming with candour and reliability, even though his face was completely impassive. “Mr Alcott, sir? My name is Shymmering. Mrs. Lewis advised the Agency to send me over.” This was said with a perfect English accent; Mr. Alcott was wondering if the gentleman was an aspiring actor, too, with perhaps Shakespearian experience, but it seemed a little farfetched.
“Oh, yes,” said Mr. Alcott. “You wish to consult me about hiring the staff? I thought Mrs. Lewis handled it.”
“She did, sir. I am a member of the staff that she had engaged,” said the man, with a mixture of pity for Mr. Alcott’s low intelligence and his own desire to help the class he served. “I am happy to announce that I am your new valet, or as we prefer to call the position in England, I am your gentleman’s gentleman.”
“I see,” said Mr. Alcott, eyeing his new employee with suspicion and a little fear. “Do come in, Mr. Shimmering.”
The man walked softly in and closed the door very quietly behind himself. “If I may mention it, sir, while I certainly appreciate your good intention, the etiquette requires that you call me simply Shymmering, without the salutation.”
“I understand,” said Mr. Alcott. “Shimmering it will be from now on. Is it within etiquette to ask you to sit down?”
“Not quite, sir; I shall remain standing at present, but you should sit down by all means as we talk. We do not wish you to be tired out, as we have very busy days ahead of us. And if I may mention another small matter, the name is Shymmering, not Shimmering. As a matter of fact, sir, I have left my previous employment because the gentleman whom I had served insisted on using the wrong spelling when he addressed me, despite my expressed protestations, and even made crude jokes about it. It is beyond belief, I know, but he also made it a point to mention, again and again, that I moved so softly that I seemed to shimmer, and therefore the name fitted me. Naturally I could not put up with such behaviour.”
“Of course not,” said Mr. Alcott, who could not tell the difference between Shimmering and Shymmering if his life depended on it. “How very vulgar of him. I will make a point of pronouncing your name properly.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Shymmering. “That is most gratifying. I am to start my duties immediately, and the cook and housemaid will arrive tomorrow. Even though the Agency is extremely careful, I personally inspected their references and they met with my complete approval.”
“That’s great,” said Mr. Alcott. “Thank you. By the way, I have just arrived and I have no idea where your room is, Shymmering. We must look for it.”
“I have the plan of the house, sir,” said Shymmering, pulling a piece of carefully folded paper from his pocket. “The Agency is most thorough when it gives instructions. Let me see, all the servants’ rooms are on the third floor. You should not be uneasy about the arrangement, sir, as both the housemaid and Cook are persons who have reached the age of discretion, and so am I, of course, so there should be no gossip about our apartments being on the same floor… the butler’s pantry, which I will use for polishing the silver, pressing your clothes, etc., is by the kitchen, and your bedroom, sir, is on the second floor, along three guest bedrooms, and of course bathrooms, dressing rooms, etc.. By the way, sir, I have brought some provisions for tonight – I can do excellent light cooking when Cook is away if I may say so myself – and Mrs. Lewis informed me that you should require plenty of orange juice.”
“You brought orange juice?” asked Mr. Alcott, almost trembling with anticipation at the magic words. “That is brilliant! May I have some right away?”
“I shall serve it to you immediately, sir, if I could just use one of the glasses from the bar… the juice is ice cold.” He quickly polished a large glass with a napkin, put it on a tray, and handed it to his new employer.
Mr. Alcott gulped the orange juice and felt much better. Shymmering looked at him benevolently, much like a cow observing her well-fed and contented calf, and poured another glass in a most understanding manner which felt very soothing to Mr. Alcott’s nervous constitution.
“What a difference a good glass of orange juice can make,” Mr. Alcott remarked. “I feel much stronger.”
“Indeed, sir, I have witnessed the power of orange juice before, while I was in service in England; a number of gentlemen are highly invigorated by it. Some of the chemicals in the fruit of the orange tree must correspond to certain areas in the brains of susceptible individuals. However, I have noticed that this happens only with gentlemen who are strict teetotallers; alcohol undoubtedly inhibits the action of the fruit chemicals.”
“I am a teetotaller, Shymmering; you must be right. Incidentally, what did you mean when you said we had busy days ahead of us?”
“Mrs. Lewis informed me that my first duty is to reorganize your wardrobe, sir. She felt that the Studio did not do justice to your looks and much more must be done. My natural instinct would have been to dress you as a highly refined, soigné English gentleman, as I have done for all my employers. I am sure you know what I mean, sir. Quiet, elegant suits, not too obviously new, elegant ties, never loud, impeccable evening wear suitable for both white and black tie events, plenty of appropriate socks, classic coats and perfect leather shoes would always do. I do not wish to boast, sir, but I have succeeded in improving a number of gentlemen who, not to mince words, needed such assistance. However, when I mentioned the plan to Mrs. Lewis, she warned me that it would not do in the circles in which you are to move. She requested that I dress you like a Hollywood star, with special attention to exciting accessories, particularly hats, neckties, scarves, and ascots. I have, therefore, studied the subject carefully at the best establishments, and I believe I know exactly what her wishes are. When Mrs. Lewis asked me if I were up to such a challenge, I expressed an opinion that it will be a new and interesting experience for me, and I believe I am ready.”
“Very well,” said Mr. Alcott, who felt quite audacious after drinking two big glasses of orange juice; under their bracing influence he thought nothing of the trouble and expense of his new adventure. “Let’s go tomorrow and start on it! I am finally beginning to feel like a movie star! Well, maybe just a little bit… actually, Shymmering, I must confess to you that the whole thing is making me quite jittery. I have a feeling it’s all a hoax and soon everything will disappear and I will be back in my mud hovel. Though come to think of it, the mud hovel was not too bad, I was secretary to Mr. Goldwasser…”
“I am a student of the Psychology of the Individual,” said Shymmering. “Something that all gentlemen’s gentlemen should aspire to. What you need, sir, is a strengthening of your ego; for reasons that I cannot fathom, your ego is frail... It is strange, since you have the support of the best studio behind you, and if I may mention it, your looks are extremely impressive. I do not know if you have what they refer to as “talent” in Hollywood circles, but it should not matter; most great stars cannot act. I feel strongly that the audience will idolize you, particularly the female population, and that both the studio and yourself will reap the benefits. The new wardrobe would be the first step toward strengthening the ego, since one feels well when one knows that one looks his best, and then we should work on the society you keep. It is essential to mingle with the correct and proper people. We shall soon look into it, and you will be backed up by people who will make you shine; I shall take care to make a list, first of all, of all the appropriate young women who are part of your studio and whose presence would benefit you in various events; you must be seen with the most famous and most beautiful.”
“Would Mr. Goldwasser approve of such a list?” asked Mr. Alcott nervously.
“I will do nothing without his consent, sir. We will consult him on everything. But I would venture to suggest that he has alread
y planned something on these lines; the studios do it routinely, sir. You might have noticed the list of ladies that have been associated with, for example, Mr. Rushmore Yukon. At least twelve young ladies were employed in this capacity since his latest film has been released.”
“I have met him,” said Mr. Alcott. “He never mentioned his publicity techniques, but I am sure he has a knack for it; he was rather helpful to me, and said pretty much the same things you did, about the support of the studios.”
“Indeed, sir, I am pleased to hear of his approbation. Incidentally, sir, your name brings to mind the great Transcendentalist, Mr. Bronson Alcott. Would you be connected to this illustrious family?”
“Old Bronson was one of my ancestors,” said Mr. Alcott.
“That is indeed gratifying, sir. I am extremely fond of the writing of the Transcendentalists, and have studied them for years. As a small child I was introduced to the works of Mr. Bronson’s daughter, Louisa May Alcott, and my interest developed as I grew up and progressed to the works of her father and his group; it is remarkable that while many people admire and love her books, they fail to see the strong influence of the Transcendentalist movement on Miss Alcott’s philosophy… I congratulate you, sir, on such an eminent family connection. I find serving the scion of such a family a great honour.”
“So you think I should read his works?” asked Mr. Alcott timidly.
“Indeed you should, sir. I am sure you will enjoy them, but more importantly, you must mention his name often when meeting certain people. He is highly esteemed by the Intelligentsia in this country. I must procure a handsome copy of some of his works for you, with tooled leather and gold edges to the pages… but of course, not new. I frequent a rare and used bookstore that has many excellent editions, and I will look there. The book must have the look of an object which is much used. You will carry it with you to certain events.”
“Indeed, that is a good idea,” said Mr. Alcott. “And if I don’t understand the writing…”
“This eventuality will not present a problem, sir. I will explain everything as you go along. I have another idea. We will create a small library, including the works of other Transcendentalists; Thoreau’s Walden, of course, Emerson’s essays, etc. It will look very good if you sit in front of the shelf during interviews. The intellectual side of the great star, sir.”
“But I don’t need to read all of them, do I?” asked Mr. Alcott anxiously.
“No, just Mr. Bronson Alcott’s works; I shall prepare a list of quotations for you from the rest of the Transcendentalists group, sir. That will suffice, I believe, considering the level of intelligence of the reporters who are going to interview you. And now, with your permission, sir, I should prepare a light supper for you. Would a herb omelette appeal to you? With some consommé to start the meal?”
“Immensely,” said Mr. Alcott. He settled himself comfortably on one of Miss Tudor’s pristine white couches and put his feet on a convenient crimson ottoman. “Thank you, Shymmering.” Life seemed a lot easier with Shymmering hanging around one and doing one’s thinking for one. Extremely restful. Mr. Alcott was so comfortable that he did not even feel the usual need to call Maisie for moral support.
An hour or so later, almost finished with his excellent supper, Mr. Alcott heard the doorbell ring. He automatically got up to answer it, but caught himself just in time. That would not be etiquette, he knew, and Shymmering would prefer to open it himself. So he sat down again, obeying higher laws. In a minute, Shymmering announced, “Miss Robinson, sir,” and Maisie walked in, looking extremely tired and sans lipstick, but quite cheerful. “Hello, Nes! The meeting ended early, and I thought I would drop in and bring some orange juice. But I see you are well looked after.”
“How kind of you, Maise,” said Mr. Alcott gratefully. “Indeed, while I am always happy to see you, I wish you would not tire yourself doing this after your long day at work. Please sit down. Incidentally, that was Shymmering, my new valet. Or as he calls himself, my gentleman’s gentleman. He is going to dress me differently and make me read my esteemed ancestor’s books.”
“It’s about time you read something other than the comics,” said Maisie, laughing. Shymmering walked in with coffee and expensive-looking after-dinner mints. “Will you have a cup of coffee, miss?” he asked respectfully.
“Yes indeed,” said Maisie. “And some of these luscious candies… Thank you, Shymmering. Mr. Alcott tells me you are about to improve him, dress him up, and make him read books. Your ideas seem highly appropriate to me.”
“I am following Mrs. Lewis’s instructions to the best of my ability, miss.”
“Something tells me you have original ideas as well, Shymmering,” said Maisie, who immediately recognized the value of this new employee.
“Thank you, miss. Indeed, I have come to the conclusion that I must strengthen Mr. Alcott’s ego by various methods, if it meets with everyone’s approval. A more assertive approach should help during interviews and publicity.”
“A stronger ego will help a great deal,” said Maisie, “as long as he does not become insufferable and too full of self-satisfaction. Incidentally, Shymmering, have we ever met? You look extremely familiar to me.”
“No, miss, not to my knowledge. I have been in America for only three months, with my previous employer whom I have just left. As for Mr. Alcott’s behaviour and attitude, we shall aim at the perfect balance between self-assurance and impeccable manners, miss. I am thinking of modelling his behaviour after Mr. Clark Gable; in films, of course. I hear he is quite different in private.”
“Well, I have complete confidence in your plans and methods, Shymmering,” said Maisie.
“I endeavour to give satisfaction, miss,” said Shymmering, and flickered out of the room, proving that “shimmering” was indeed quite wrong and the mot juste would be “dematerializing.”
“Now where have I seen this man?” said Maisie, astonished by the zephyr-like disappearance of the rather substantial valet, and furling her brow. “I can swear I know him, but it makes no sense, I would have remembered his intelligent eyes and his egg-shaped head if I had met him anywhere at all… Have you noticed, Nes, how his head bulges in the back? I am told this is the sign of a huge brain; if I were you, I would follow his advice to the letter. It will keep me awake, trying to figure out where I have met him…Ah well, one of life’s little mysteries. Cheers, Nes!” and she sipped her coffee. Mr. Alcott, who did not seem to care, or even notice, that his friend and his employee spoke about him as if he were not present in the room, or were a tiny child, ate one of the superb mints and smiled happily.
***
And as is our habit, now we must leave Mr. Alcott and Maisie in the capable hands of Shymmering, who for some reason seems rather familiar to us too, though we cannot quite place him, and move back to Norton Hall. Lady Norton was entertaining Mr. Alister Cameron, and felt that finally she understood the plans for the greenhouse perfectly. “It is a beautiful design,” she said as he was sipping his tea.
“Mr. Middleton is an extremely talented architect,” said Mr. Cameron. “I don’t know where he learned so much about creating greenhouses, but there you are. He just soaks up information. I must tell you what happened some years ago. Mr. Middleton wanted to meet an expert on Balkan architecture. Naturally, he dragged Mrs. Middleton and myself with him on the Orient Express, God only knows why.”
“But the Orient Express is wonderful,” said Lady Norton, surprised.
“It was not that time. And Mrs. Middleton became so exhausted it nearly killed her… well, we survived and reached Prasvoda, where the expert was awaiting our visit.”
“So did Mr. Middleton get the information?”
“He did, in his own way. The man could not speak a work of English, and just a few words of French, and Mr. Middleton’s French is not good. Since it was summer, Prasvoda was practically empty, and we could not find an interpreter.”
“So how did Mr. Middleton acquire the information?�
�� asked Lady Norton. “I suppose I would have requested it in writing and then had it translated. Did he do that?”
“No, that would have been too logical. Instead, Mr. Middleton talked to the man, in English, for three days without stopping to breathe, about the influence of Graeco-Roman civilization in Prasvoda, with asides about the Greek elements in three or four great poets; I think they were Goethe, Shelley, and Keats, but I may miss someone.”
“And what happened then?” asked Lady Norton.
“We went back home, and Mr. Middleton shut himself in his office and wrote an extremely erudite article about the architecture of the Orthodox Entente, Prasvoda, and other little states, between 1900 and 1936.”
“Then he already knew all that? Why go to Prasvoda, then?”
“But you see, he did not know it before the trip; I am absolutely certain of that. This kind of situation has happened before. No one can understand how Mr. Middleton acquires information. He never lets people get a word edgewise, even if they do know English… as I said, he soaks up the information magically. In many ways he is a genius. If only he did not talk so much, people would realize it much sooner.”
“Indeed,” said Lady Norton. “And now that you have explained everything, let us start with the building. Incidentally, I am delighted that I don’t have to ship everything from America – the fact that Mr. Middleton knows where to acquire the materials in England represents great savings in time and money. The professor will be here in two weeks, and even though the cactus seeds take six weeks to germinate, the sooner I have the greenhouse ready the better.”