AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Cecily followed her upstairs, led her across the landing, and opened the guest bedroom door. She turned, smiling.
Margot walked in. It had been arranged especially for her. The things she had loved years ago reappeared. Thin, soft curtains that moved with the breeze and brought back a sharp memory of going to see a desperately romantic musical drama with Cecily. Margot had been old enough to know how unrealistic it was, but it was an escape from the practical. Looking at the curtains now, the whole atmosphere of that dreamy evening returned. White curtains, stirred by the breeze, revealed so much, and hid all the framework that separated the real from the dreams, the present from an imagined future.
There were flowers on the dressing table. Not roses—that would be too ordinary. These were daisies of some sort, shaggy with loose, careless petals; some kind of chrysanthemum. Cecily had remembered those, too, and for Margot a memory danced just out of reach: the smell of damp earth, laughter, leaves turning gold on the trees.
The wardrobe door was half open, showing enough space for all the dresses Margot had brought for parties, for afternoon walks, and of course for the wedding itself and the dinner afterward.
Margot turned and saw Cecily in the doorway, her face eager to know if she had got everything right, if Margot remembered all the same things, despite the difference in their ages.
Margot felt tears prickle in her eyes. “It’s beautiful,” she said with intense feeling. “Nobody else could have brought it back, never mind so delicately. Thank you.”
Cecily smiled happily and looked a little embarrassed that Margot had accurately recognized her feelings. “Tea downstairs,” she said quietly. “You must be gasping.”
“I’ll be there,” Margot promised.
As soon as the door was closed, Margot let out her breath. She was pleased to be here; it seemed almost immediately to have proved its worth. And yet she began to appreciate that the visit was going to be even more weighted with emotions than she had foreseen. Was she the only British friend to come? Or perhaps just the longest known, the only one who had shared briefly some of Cecily’s girlhood, allowing herself to relive her own? Maybe she was the only one to have any understanding of the deeper situation, both their fathers having served in the British embassy in Berlin. Perhaps they had seen the changes in fortunes in Germany, felt the despair, the anger, and the hope. And now, also, the fear?
She stood up and opened the first of the cases in which her clothes were packed. She took out a comfortable dress, a dark, dramatic floral, one of her favorites. And after giving herself a brief wash in the bedroom basin, she put it on. She hung up the suit she had worn for two days of travel. She would brush it and freshen it later. Now, to put on new makeup. She had arrived, she was safe and comfortable, but this was still a performance. Not only might every word she said be weighed and remembered, but so also would be her expressions: the momentary smile or hesitation.
Winifred and Cecily were both waiting for Margot when she knocked on the sitting-room door and went in. It was at first glance so much like the way it used to be years ago. The carved fireplace was polished, but the fire in it was smaller than she remembered, although there was an autumnal nip in the air. The long curtains drawn back from the windows were the old ones, rich velvet, but carefully tied to fold over the places where she guessed the pile was worn. The same pictures were on the walls and she found herself smiling at the familiarity of it.
“I always liked this room,” she said to Winifred. “One of the good things that’s still here.”
Winifred smiled quickly. “And it’s going to get better again,” she promised. “More people are working. There is order. Buses and trains are running. Of course, you know that. You came by train, didn’t you? How was it? Was it clean? On time?” There was an eagerness in her eyes, as if she knew the answer.
Margot felt a rush of relief. It was a question she could answer honestly. “Yes, exactly on time, and it was clean. A bit worn, but perfectly patched. Someone took care.”
“Exactly,” Winifred agreed. “So much has changed under the surface, like a tree when you can see the buds swelling and you know there will be leaves soon. I have great hopes…”
Cecily looked at her mother, and for an instant Margot saw the intense affection in her, even protectiveness. “Don’t try to hurry it, Mother. They’ll get it at their own pace. When the new take the place of the old, they have to do so with a certain hesitancy…gentleness.”
“I know, dear. I’m just telling Margot what hope there is.”
Cecily looked at Margot. “We can see so much more of the new government because of Hans.” She smiled a little self-consciously and glanced down at her slender hands folded in her lap, the diamond engagement ring prominent on her left hand. It was clearly still new to her and she was always conscious of it. She looked up and saw Margot’s eyes. “He’s rising quite quickly…”
“Very quickly,” Winifred affirmed. “It’s early yet, of course—we all know that—but he has caught the attention of the authorities with his intelligence, and the speed at which he sees the bigger picture.”
“Of what?” Margot asked. “Germany’s future?” Then immediately she wished she had not spoken. She was tired from the long journey, and now she was with people who had become partial strangers, old friends who had had different experiences from hers and had seen the reflection from the other side of the glass. Too much was reversed.
Margot spoke again, this time very carefully. “I h
aven’t met your Hans yet. Tell me all about him. I feel almost as if he is going to be part of my life, if he is already part of yours.”
Cecily blushed.
Margot knew it was part self-conscious pleasure and part embarrassment. She could remember feeling just that way when people asked about Paul.
“What else do you like about him?” Margot asked, prompting her and knowing exactly what she would say if someone asked her about Paul now. He was wise, had an honest gaze, he never evaded the truth, even if he had to tell it gently. She recalled it now as if the intervening years had not existed.
Cecily was still thinking. Winifred drew in breath and then thought better of answering for her. “His loyalty,” Cecily said at last. “It takes courage and honor to be so loyal, not afraid of what other people think of you, or—”
“It is what he truly believes.” Winifred could not resist speaking.
“Loyalty is a great quality,” Margot agreed, maybe too quickly. “You can trust him completely. What do you enjoy doing together?”
“We…we haven’t been alone together a lot,” Cecily replied. “But he has introduced me to some marvelous friends.” She smiled and looked down, as if not wanting to seem to boast. “Some of the people who are going to make this country great again. Such vision, such belief, is a little overwhelming.”
“He is proud to show her off,” Winifred cut in, to say without immodesty what Cecily could not.
