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He bumped up against Gabrielle, but his smile widened as he gazed at Elena.
She turned around slowly, then reached for the zipper to fasten it at the side. It was, as Aiden had suggested, a little tight across the bosom.
“Excellent,” Gabrielle approved. Then she turned to the child. “I think you had better go to bed, now that you’ve seen us off. Marta will read you a story.”
He held on to her a little more tightly.
“I’ll say good night to you when I come home,” she promised.
For a moment, he looked like refusing, but a young woman appeared in the doorway and held out her arms.
Elena bent down toward the boy, careful not to lean on the soft fabric of the dress, which spread around her. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the light flashing on sequins, just a few. “Thank you, Franz. Now I can go, feeling beautiful.” She kissed her fingertips and touched them to his cheek, which was as soft as the silk of the gown.
He smiled at her, then after the briefest hesitation, turned and went to Marta to hear his bedtime story. Only once did he glance at Gabrielle, as if she might change her mind. It was a routine he was used to, if unwillingly.
Elena looked at Gabrielle, at her rich, dark hair and brown eyes and, most of all, the warm tones of her skin. She had never been blond, even as a child. And yet Franz had the same smile, the same delicate brows, even if his were no more than a suggestion as yet.
There was nothing to say. It was all in Gabrielle’s face. Whatever she said or did, or whatever other loyalties she had, Elena understood that Franz was first.
“Thank you for lending me the dress,” she said with a straightforward smile and an even voice, although her heart was beating hard, almost in her throat. Why? Because in the middle of all this lying and pretending, there had been this intrusion of something real, whatever else happened.
“It suits you better than I expected…” Gabrielle began. Then, as if she realized Elena was not really listening, she changed the subject. “Shoes. You need shoes that go with it.” She glanced at Elena’s feet, and her face expressed her opinion of the shoes Elena was still wearing. She went to the wardrobe and brought out a pair of sandals, so constructed that a size or two one way or the other would make little difference.
Elena put them on. “Thank you,” she said with a smile.
Gabrielle regarded her. “You need a little more lipstick,” she decided. “You look pale, sort of unfinished. Try the top drawer on the left,” she said, pointing to the dressing table. “And take a dab to touch your cheeks. We’re going to face the enemy.”
“Oh…” But Elena obeyed, even as she said it.
“I don’t know who they are,” Gabrielle said with laughter and apology, even regret, in her face. “I just know that they will be there. And don’t look like that. We are probably all wasting our time if they’re not.” She walked over to the wardrobe and took out a heavy purple satin gown, held it up for a moment, decided it was right, and changed her dark dress for the purple. She looked at Elena inquiringly.
“Let’s go and find the dangers,” Elena said. Her voice was higher pitched and tighter than she had meant it to be. Gesturing toward Gabrielle, she added, “They will give up without a fight.”
* * *
—
Aiden had changed into a dark suit that he’d kept at Gabrielle’s apartment. Neither of them explained, and Elena did not ask.
They took a taxi. After twenty minutes or so, driving through heavy, noisy traffic, Elena had completely lost her sense of direction. When they got out and Aiden paid the driver, she had no idea where they were, except that it was clearly in the older and generally poorer quarter of the city. They went down steps, gaslit from a single lamp, to a door well below street level. A small window allowed someone inside to check who was at the door.
As soon as Aiden knocked on the window, it opened.
“Yes?” A man’s face appeared and he looked at them critically.
Aiden stood so the light was on his face. “Anton Salinger, and my guests.”
“Good evening, Signor Salinger. Ladies. Come in.”
The window closed. There was a second or two of silence, then a click and the door opened.
Gabrielle went first, clearly knowing the way. Elena followed and Aiden came last.
They walked a lengthy corridor before double doors opened into a large, cavernous space, transformed with lights and music into a Viennese nightclub. Elena had an impression of lilting voices, a singer in a scarlet gown, people laughing, and the clink and gleam of raised glasses. From the dark narrow street above, it was unimaginable.
Quickly, they melted into the crowd, watching, listening, offering the occasional comment or appreciation for a joke. What could Elena do that was useful? She was here merely to stay with Aiden, and to be safe. But there might be something to learn. Several languages were spoken around them: Italian, German, Hungarian, Serbian, French, and now and again Elena heard a word or two of English.
There was music, and dancing in the pocket-handkerchief of a floor in the middle of all the separate tables. There was room for perhaps a half dozen couples, if they were careful.
