Magic in Vienna

They reached Passau well ahead of the main party and were on board, settled in their cabins long before the first of the other passengers arrived. It was a splendid ship, Cordelia considered and the cabin she and Eileen shared was not only roomy, it was comfortable and airy and they had a splendid view from their large window. Lady Trescombe, next door, had a double cabin to herself, and presently Cordelia unpacked for her, listened carefully to that lady’s plans for the cruise, bade Eileen stay where she was for the moment and went to the reception desk to deal with Lady Trescombe’s wishes. They weren’t many but they were exacting and at the same time, she took a quick peep round the ship; the restaurant, the lounge, the sundeck and swimming pool. It all looked very satisfactory.

She was to book any tours which Eileen fancied, she had been told and Lady Trescombe had given her sufficient money to pay for them all and buy any small things she or Eileen needed. She, herself intended spending a quiet time reading and resting and she made it plain that although the pair of them might enjoy themselves as much as they wished, she didn’t want to be unduly disturbed. Which suited Cordelia well enough; she and Eileen spent half an hour deciding where they would go ashore, then they explored the ship, inspected the swimming pool and went back to their cabin to get ready for the evening.

The Captain’s cocktail party, they had been told, was to take place before dinner. The three of them went along to the lounge, Lady Trescombe in a simple black dress which had probably cost more than the whole of Cordelia’s wardrobe put together. Eileen in an equally expensive outfit and Cordelia in one of the jersey dresses. The lounge seemed very full of people; Lady Trescombe sat herself down at once but Cordelia and Eileen, glasses of some drink or other in their hands, found themselves caught up in a cheerful group of passengers. It was a pity, thought Cordelia that they weren’t sharing a table with one or two other people, but Lady Trescombe, while perfectly civil to everyone, had no intention of getting involved in any but the most transitory of conversations. The three of them dined at a window table and since by then it was quite late, went to their cabins afterwards.

The sound of the river water under their window was very soothing, Cordelia was asleep within minutes of putting her head on the pillow.

The pair of them were up early and up on deck before many of the passengers were awake. It was chilly but fine and they hung over the side admiring the magnificent scenery, planning their day. They were to go ashore and see the little town of Durnstein after lunch and a good part of the morning would be taken up with getting tickets for their various trips ashore. And since everything was strange and the scenery changed at every bend of the river, Cordelia thought it unlikely that Eileen would be bored.

They went down to breakfast presently; Lady Trescombe had declared that she would breakfast in her cabin and didn’t wish to be disturbed until after that; they ate their meal unhurriedly, exchanging small talk with the occupants of the tables nearby while Eileen speculated about her stay with Uncle Charles.

The child was worried guessed Cordelia, and did her best to calm her down a little. ‘Look Eileen,’ she coaxed, ‘would it be a good idea to forget your Uncle Charles until we get to Vienna? There’s such a lot to do before then. I don’t believe he’ll be half as bad as you think.’

Eileen frowned. ‘It’s all very well for you, Cordelia.’ She tossed her head. ‘Mummy says I’m a high spirited child and mustn’t be thwarted; I bet Uncle Charles thwarts me.’

‘Why should he? And you’re not going to be there for ever, you know.’

‘If he won’t let you stay, I shall run away.’

‘In that case, I’ll have to stay, won’t I?’ Cordelia sounded matter-of-fact. ‘Now let’s stop worrying about something which I’m sure won’t happen. Suppose you get out your camera and get some photos taken? We can have them developed when we get to Vienna and stick them in an album then you can show them to your Mother and Father.’

Durnstein, when they reached it, was a small picturesque town crowned by the ruins of the castle where Richard the Lionheart had been held captive and found, finally, by the faithful minstrel, Blondel. The pair of them wandered through the narrow mainstreet, speculating about the horrors of being held captive in a draughty old castle on the top of a hill for years on end until they did find a small shop crammed with enamel ware and embroidery where they browsed happily for half an hour before going back on board.

The days were much the same although the places they visited were different. Bratislava they found disturbing and Cordelia was sorry that they had gone ashore. The man on duty at the gangway with a gun slung over his shoulder was disconcerting, especially as he neither answered their polite greeting or smiled, and there was nothing to buy. But it gave Cordelia a good reason for delving into modern history and explaining intricate facts like European boundaries, until now she hadn’t felt that she was earning her salary and it was a pleasant surprise to find that Eileen was really interested.

They were to go to Budapest before they went ashore at Vienna, and here Lady Trescombe declared her intention of joining them. There was a taxi waiting for them and presumably someone had told the driver where to go for they crossed the Danube and drove up a winding road to an ancient citadel crowned by the statue of a woman. ‘Symbolising freedom,’ explained Cordelia to Eileen, having taken the trouble to read it all up beforehand.

They inspected the Matthias church next and Fisherman’s Bastion, exploring avidly until Lady Trescombe, professing herself already worn out, decided that they should go to the nearby Hilton Hotel and have their coffee. After that, since someone had mentioned that there was a shop close by where they might find some embroidery, they bade the patient cabby wait and found their way there. The shop was in a cellar, stuffed to overflowing with the kind of things tourists would want to buy. Eileen immediately demanded an embroidered blouse, which her grandmother allowed her to buy while she bought a pair of charming little figurines. But Cordelia didn’t buy anything for the simple reason that there was no one to whom she might give it. She was tempted by the boxes of painted eggs, but they looked fragile and since her future was uncertain, there seemed no point in buying them.

They went back presently and the taxi took them back across the river into the modern part of the city and here Lady Trescombe paid off the driver and declared herself ready for lunch. The hotel was modern but once inside it revealed an unexpected charm. White walls rose on all sides to the roof in a series of balconies, festooned with ivy. They sat at a little table and drank iced squash and then lunched in the splendid restaurant. Cordelia enjoyed every minute of it.

They went back to the boat presently and Lady Trescombe went straight to her cabin to rest and enjoy a tray of tea, but Cordelia and Eileen went to hang over the rails, pointing out to each other the various landmarks they remembered from the morning.

‘If Vienna is half as nice,’ declared Cordelia, ‘it will be super.’

She packed for them both that evening for they would arrive by midday the next morning, and after breakfast she packed for Lady Trescombe too.

‘You have enjoyed the trip?’ asked Lady Trescombe, ‘Eileen has been a good girl?’

‘Oh, yes, Lady Trescombe, I’ve loved every minute, and Eileen has been quite splendid; she’s been interested in everything too; it will help her with her school lessons and after Budapest she’s looking forward to exploring Vienna.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. Certainly you have made a good companion for her—she can at times be a very difficult child, but you get along well, I believe. Surely I shall recommend most strongly that you stay with her at her uncle’s house until her parents return. Unless of course, you wish to return to England?’

Cordelia couldn’t say no fast enough, to that.

They disembarked as soon as the formalities were dealt with. Cordelia and Eileen had made a few friends during their days on board; they bade them goodbye, suddenly reluctant to leave the familiar faces of the last few days, and followed Lady Trescombe down the gangway. There was a dark blue Jaguar car parked close by with a discreet GB on its back. Standing beside it a portly man of middle height, dressed soberly in a blue suit. Cordelia’s first idea that it was Uncle Charles was dispelled when she saw the peaked cap in his hand and heard Lady Trescombe say with satisfaction: ‘Ah, there is Thompson with the car— Charles remembered.’

She greeted the man, introducing him to Cordelia and Eileen before getting in and settling herself on the back seat. ‘You may sit with me,’ she told Eileen. ‘Be good enough to sit beside Thompson, Miss Gibson.’

To start with the streets looked uninteresting but then what could one expect? Dock areas all looked alike and neglected somehow, but presently the street opened into a wide boulevard and Thompson murmured: ‘The Ring, Miss, runs right round the centre of the city and very famous.’

The buildings had become large and grand and there were little corners of green and trees. Museums, Cordelia guessed, and then large apartment houses with heavily curtained windows which concealed who knew what splendours within. They gave way presently to shops, very elegant too, this would be the Karntner Ring that Lady Trescombe had mentioned one day, and these in turn made way for vast buildings which had to be more museums or perhaps government offices, and then a sweep of green fronting that could only be a palace. There were broad avenues running across the grass and stationed on them small open carriages, their drivers in bowler hats and a pair of horses standing between the shafts. But Thompson went on his sedate way, past the Parliament Building to turn to the right at the end of the small park facing it. The street was quiet after the bustle of the Ring and the stone-faced buildings on either side of it had an opulent air.

Thompson slowed the car and stopped before a large mahogany door in the centre of such a building, he got out, opened the door for Lady Trescombe and Eileen and then did the same for Cordelia.

He rang the old fashioned bell, observed that he would see to their luggage, and went back to the car as the door was opened. The hall porter who had answered the bell wished them good day in his own language and led them across the elegant lobby to the lift, ushered them into it and took them to the second floor. The lobby here was as opulent as the entrance and there were only two doors in it, facing each other. He trod magestically across to one of them, rang the doorbell and waited until the door was opened before taking leave of them, presumably to help Thompson with the luggage, and all without almost any words at all, a situation quickly remedied by the little plump woman who held the door invitingly open.

‘There you are, Madam dear, here at last, and Eileen with you too.’ Her beady dark eyes studied Cordelia before she smiled at her. ‘And this is the young lady the doctor mentioned. Come along in,’ she stood aside as they went into the hall, ‘I’ll let him know that you are here—stayed home from hospital on purpose to welcome you, he did…’ She paused for breath and one of the doors in the hall was opened and a man came out.

Uncle Charles, but not the Uncle Charles of her and Eileen’s fancy—this man, while no longer young, was still in his thirties and his dark hair was barely touched by grey. He was, thought Cordelia, quite out of her depth, incredibly handsome in a craggy way, and very large, towering over them all in a rather off putting fashion. Oh, how very nice, she thought inadequately and waited for him to speak.

He had a quiet voice and rather slow; she couldn’t catch what he said to his mother as he stooped to kiss her before turning to Eileen, standing beside her and staring at him with frank surprise.

His, ‘Hullo, Eileen. You don’t remember me, do you? I hope you will be happy here until your parents return,’ was uttered in a somewhat absent minded way, and Cordelia noticed that he held a book in one hand, one finger marking the place. A pity if he was an absent minded scholar who preferred books to people, she mused and then coloured faintly as Lady Trescombe said: ‘This is Miss Gibson, Charles, Eileen’s companion.’

‘How d’you do,’ asked Cordelia politely. The doctor studied her carefully, ‘Mrs Thompson shall take you to your rooms,’ he said at length, ‘we shall be in the drawing room when you are ready. I daresay you would like a drink before lunch.’ He nodded at her and took his mother’s arm and led her across the hall to another door, opened it and went inside with her, closing it behind him.

‘He’s awful,’ whispered Eileen and caught Cordelia’s hand in hers.

‘No, dear. I think perhaps he’s used to living alone and isn’t quite sure what to do with us.’ She didn’t say more because Mrs Thompson had come to take them to their rooms.

It was a large apartment; they mounted half a dozen shallow stairs and went down a long passage, thickly carpeted, with Mrs Thompson leading the way, talking cosily all the while. ‘Side by side, you are,’ she told them, ‘and there’s a bathroom for you to share. The doctor’s along the other corridor and Thompson and I are at the end of his corridor. He thought you’d like to be on your own…’

She opened doors as she spoke, revealing two rooms, furnished very similarly in a rather heavy fashion. There was a connecting door and a view of the street below from their windows. ‘Of course,’ the doctor only rents this place,’ explained Mrs Thompson, tweaking a bedspread into exact lines, ‘he doesn’t care for it overmuch, but it’s handy for the university and the hospitals, and we’ll be going home in a couple of months.’ She beamed at them. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to tidy up. You can find your way to the drawing room? If you want any help with unpacking just you ring. I’ll be in Lady Trescombe’s room putting her things to rights…’

Left alone Eileen looked at Cordelia. ‘I’m not going to like it here,’ she said defiantly, and peeped at her to see what she would say.

‘Well, I don’t see how you can say that until we’ve been here for at least two or three days,’ said Cordelia matter-of-factly. ‘I thought it all looked rather exciting as we drove here, didn’t you? That Palace and those dear little carriages…we might take a ride…’

‘All the same,’ began Eileen, but Cordelia didn’t give her the chance: ‘The thing is,’ she went on calmly, ‘now we’re here, wouldn’t it be a good thing to sample some of the things we’ve been reading about on board; I’d love to see the Schonbrunn Palace and eat a cream cake at Sacher’s Coffee House and to go to the Spanish Riding School.’

She could see Eileen wavering but she was far too wise to say more. ‘Let’s tidy ourselves and have that drink,’ she suggested.

Five minutes later they were ready. They were on the last stair of the steps leading to the hall and about to cross the hall to the half open drawing room door when Dr Trescombe spoke, his deep quiet voice nevertheless very clear.

‘By all means let her stay,’ he sounded bored, ‘I’m sure that I can rely on your opinion, Mother. I can’t say I have felt much interest—a rather dull girl, I should have thought, with no looks to speak of…’

Cordelia had stopped, rooted to the spot, her face had paled and her gentle mouth was half open. She might have stayed there for heaven knew how long but Eileen caught her by the hand and whisked her silently back up the steps. Safely on the landing she whispered fiercely: ‘Don’t believe a word of it Cordelia, you’re not a bit dull and when you smile you’re beautiful. I hate him.’

Cordelia managed a smile. ‘At least I’m to stay.’ She breathed the words into Eileen’s ear. ‘But don’t hate him—he’s quite right, you know.’

Eileen scowled and Cordelia put a finger to her lips and urged her down into the hall again. She said in a high and rather loud voice: ‘I daresay most people living in Vienna have apartments, I remember reading…’

They had reached the drawing-room door, which was a good thing because she had no idea what she was going to say next.

Lady Trescombe was sitting in an over upholstered chair, a glass on the small table by her side. She said unnecessarily: ‘There you are. Eileen, you may have a glass of lemonade. Miss Gibson, you would probably like a glass of sherry.’

The doctor was standing at the other end of the room, looking out of the window. He turned to look at them as they went in but apparently he had no objection to his mother taking over his duties for he said nothing before resuming his study of the street outside.

‘I shall return home in two days time,’ observed Lady Trescombe. ‘You will arrange that for me, Charles? A morning flight I think.’

Cordelia and Eileen had sat down side by side on a massive sofa and he came to sit in a chair opposite his mother.

‘Certainly, my dear, although I should have liked you to stay for longer.’

He transferred his gaze to Cordelia and she was startled to see how very blue his eyes were. ‘You will remain, Miss Gibson? Eileen’s parents will return in rather less than six weeks and I must depend upon you to keep her occupied and happy until then. You must understand that I have my work which keeps me busy and I have little leisure. Your duties are unlikely to be onerous. I have arranged for Eileen to attend a school while she is here,’ and at the girl’s interruption: ‘Don’t worry, Eileen, you will only go to the classes you will enjoy. You like painting and drawing don’t you? You may go three times a week to art class, and perhaps you might like the cookery sessions and the embroidery… Anyway, try them out, and if you don’t like them, we’ll think of something else. Your mother wrote to me and suggested it and I know it would please her, but if the idea of school makes you unhappy, we’ll scrap it.’

Cordelia found this to be a very reasonable arrangement and was relieved to see Eileen’s face brighten. ‘I can really choose for myself?’

‘Of course. There will be plenty of time for you and Miss Gibson to explore Vienna—feel free to go where you like, provided you let Thompson or Mrs Thompson know where you are going.’ He smiled suddenly and looked years younger. ‘I’m afraid I’m not much of an uncle, my dear, you must forgive a middle-aged bachelor.’

‘Probably,’ said Eileen, ‘when Cordelia and I have been here for a week or two, you’ll feel much younger.’

His eyes flickered over Cordelia. ‘Er—quite possibly. Perhaps the two of you would like to unpack?’

Cordelia got up and walked to the door without saying a word, reminding herself that after all he wasn’t any worse than her stepmother, and she was being paid for it. As she waited for Eileen she did a little rapid mental arithmetic—five weeks at the salary she was getting, if she saved most of it, would cushion her nicely against the uncertain future.

She had, while they had been on board, spent some time in deciding what she would buy once they were in Vienna, her wardrobe was, after all meagre, but now she realised that half a dozen sacks would do just as well as far as Uncle Charles was concerned and she wasn’t likely to make many friends. She would be able to manage very well with what she had.

The pair of them unpacked while Eileen discussed her uncle.

‘It’s not polite to talk about him when we’re guests under his roof,’ reproved Cordelia.

‘Well I don’t think I like him, I expect he thinks we’re a nuisance…’

‘Quite likely. You see he lives alone and has only had himself to consider. I’m quite sorry for him—I daresay he’s a very lonely man.’

Eileen, under Cordelia’s direction, was laying shoes and slippers in a neat row in the clothes closet. ‘Well, he can get married.’ She turned to look at Cordelia. ‘I don’t suppose you fancy him?’

‘No,’ said Cordelia, ‘I don’t think I do, and isn’t that a good thing for I don’t suppose I’d make much headway, would I?’

They giggled at the very idea, finished their unpacking and went downstairs again.

Lunch was ready as they reached the hall, delayed for half an hour so that Dr Trescombe could talk to his mother. They ate it in a sombre heavily furnished room, sitting spaced out round an oval table. The doctor was a good host; he included Eileen and Cordelia in the conversation and was attentive to their wants, all the same Cordelia was relieved when they went back to the drawing room for their coffee, and presently she gave a speaking look to Eileen and carried that reluctant young lady off to her room.

‘Are you going back to the drawing room?’ she wanted to know as Cordelia prepared to leave her.

‘Me? Heavens no. Your grandmother and uncle will want to talk together.’ She could imagine the polite conversation they would maintain if she were foolish enough to rejoin them, concealing their impatience with well-bred courtesy. ‘I shall go to my room for a bit, presently I should think we might go out and take a look round. There’s a park close by, unless your grandmother or uncle want you…’

She left Eileen with a book and went along to her own room and did her face and hair again for something to do and then went and sat by the window and watched the street below. She hoped that Uncle Charles wasn’t going to dislike her, it was disheartening that he had such a poor opinion of her, but perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing; he’d be more likely to ignore her. And in the meanwhile, here she was in Vienna, living in what to her was the lap of luxury and with untold museums, monuments and palaces to explore. Money to spend too, although she would have to save most of it.

An hour, she judged, seemed a suitable period in which to leave mother and son together; she went through the connecting door to Eileen’s room, cast a critical eye over her appearance, and suggested that it might be a good idea to find Lady Trescombe and discover her plans for the rest of the day.

An unnecessary exercise, as it turned out for Mrs Thompson knocked on the door with the request that Miss Eileen should go down to the drawing room to her grandmother, and Miss Gibson was asked to go at once to Dr Trescombe’s study.

A gloomy, book-lined apartment, she discovered, with dark green curtains draped on either side of the big window and a wide desk set at an angle to the door. The doctor sat behind it, but he got up as she went in and offered her one of the stiff little leather armchairs opposite the desk.

This done, he went to the window and rather impatiently pulled back the curtains so that there was more light in the room. It fell on to Cordelia’s face but she didn’t turn away from it: in fact she was a practical girl and he’d already decided that she had no looks…

He studied her in a detached way for a few moments. ‘My mother tells me that Eileen likes you, a sufficient recommendation for you to remain here. But I cannot stress sufficiently that you must take sole charge of her; I have had very little to do with children and my work precludes my participation in an active social life. I leave you to decide what is suitable for Eileen’s entertainment and rely upon you to keep her suitably occupied.’

‘In short, Dr Trescombe, you don’t want to be aware that we are here.’ Cordelia spoke quietly in a matter-of-fact voice but the doctor’s eyebrows rose.

‘You put it rather more frankly than necessary, Miss Gibson, but yes, that is what I wish.’

‘I shall do my best,’ observed Cordelia calmly, ‘but of course Eileen is a high spirited child, to keep her quite silent will be difficult.’

‘I am not an ogre,’ said the doctor sharply. ‘I shall expect you to come to me if you need help of any sort and naturally, I wish Eileen to be happy while she is here.’ He sat back in his chair and said in a more friendly voice. ‘You will both take your meals with me; I am seldom home for lunch, but I hope that you will both join me for breakfast and dinner. Occasionally I have guests, and probably it may be better if you and Eileen dine alone—the talk is usually in German.’