Chapter 10

We stepped inside the ballroom, doing our best to feign nonchalance as we took in the Imperial’s impressive hall. “Know the joke about the man and his tailor?” Enide asked quietly, under her breath. Andra and I glanced across at her, waiting expectantly. Enide grinned. “Says the new trousers are like a cheap hotel — they have no ballroom.” The three of us broke into titters whilst trying our best not to seem juvenile.

The Grand Ballroom certainly lived up to its moniker. Its opulent decor, gilded accents and immense chandeliers were indeed a spectacle. However, these all paled in comparison to the astonishing glass ceiling that arched overhead. The enormous glass and ironwork structure was made up of intricate cast-iron trusses and spanned almost the length and breadth of the hall, held aloft by tall, pink-veined marble columns. Even this late at night, with no light to illuminate it from outside, I felt as if I was standing in an open-air courtyard.

Earlier, on our way to the hall, we’d been sidetracked when the girls ran into people they knew. Although Enide introduced me, I refrained from engaging in conversation to any great extent. As my companions conversed, I took the time to observe the various people moving about the lobby. At first, I was surprised that there were several notable people in attendance, though on reflection, I shouldn’t have been. I recognised a judge, several high-ranking officers, as well as a retired governor, making their way to the ballroom accompanied by their companions.

After exchanging pleasantries and a brief chat we parted from the two couples and continued toward the ballroom. My feelings were divided between self-consciousness amidst the grand gathering and curiosity about all that was going on around me.

Andra and Enide appeared more at ease with the pomp and circumstance of the occasion, or at least that’s how it seemed to me. Throughout the night, I noticed how they effortlessly charmed those they came across. In their company, I had come to realise the value of a pleasant face. Their smiles held a palpable worth in society, something they could freely spend as if it were coinage. I realised I had underestimated their social prowess, and perhaps, overestimated my own.

The scale and magnificence of the ballroom did little to restore my inner poise. However, I perked up considerably once we had mingled a little among the assemblage. It turns out that entering a packed hall with an achingly beautiful young woman on each arm can have a decidedly gratifying effect on a fellow. Who would have guessed?

Andra and Enide had both styled their hair into elegant up-dos for the occasion. I noticed that most other girls decked out in “maiden” outfits wore their hair in some sort of braided fashion. The refinement of their dresses, together with their more sophisticated hairstyles appeared to draw many appreciative glances.

“I need a drink,” Enide said while tilting her head toward me conspiratorially. “I didn’t realise so many of ‘the great and the good’ would be here — I feel as if I’m about to face the headmistress,” she confided.

“I read something about how visualising people unclothed can help ease nerves,” I replied. “Supposedly, it makes them seem less imposing and more approachable. I suppose anything which makes people seem less impressive will do. Perhaps I’ll think of everyone here as a naval officer,” I responded flippantly.

Enide laughed. “I’m going to imagine them squatting on a toilet.”

“I think about toilets sometimes,” Andra offered reflectively, “and how awful it must be to be one.”

“We all need a drink!” I grumbled, looking pointedly at Andra, at a loss for a riposte.

All around, impeccably dressed waiters milled about among the crowd with serving trays. I caught the eye of one such chap and with a subtle nod of acknowledgement, he made his way toward us.

The band were playing a lively, jaunty tune. Despite its conspicuous refinement, the “Woodchopper’s Ball”, as with all spring dances, harks back to centuries-old traditions. During the spring season, it was deemed pretentious and even a little unpatriotic to conduct partnered dances to the accompaniment of formal orchestral music, especially if it was of foreign origin. At a spring ball, dances and accompanying music were almost always of a traditional, folksy character.

The ball was reckoned a very delightful affair by Andra and Enide. It was obvious from the way they were swaying in place that the two were eager to take to the floor. However, having just been served drinks, we were left pondering that age-old dilemma — to sip or dip? Enide resolved the tricky conundrum without further deliberation. “Bottoms up!” she announced and drained her glass. Compelled by Enide’s example, Andra and I gulped down our glasses of bubbly in one swift motion. Enide smiled approvingly at us and gestured toward the dance floor with a happy gleam.

As Enide and Andra headed toward the dance floor, I thought I could stay put and watch the spectacle from the sideline, but after only a few steps, the girls returned to grab a hold of my hands and pull me along with them. On the dance floor — itself a meticulously polished work of art — we joined the crowd of dancers. People all around us were dressed in the finest clothes. Men were impeccably dressed in formal wear and the ladies’ skirts swayed and flowed gracefully as they danced.

Despite the grandeur of the venue, the melodies we danced to were well-known, familiar country jigs. It was the kind of music enjoyed by people from all walks of life, played at dances up and down the country. The atmosphere was one of gaiety and revelry with everyone on the dance floor caught up in the occasion without a thought to the judgment of refinement or the cynical gaze of the others.

While I can take pleasure in watching others dance, my own skills are rather modest. I am at best only a tolerable partner, and my interest typically wanes after a spell. But Enide and Andra’s energy was so infectious that I found myself swept up in the rhythm, dancing alongside them as we cut a rug across the floor.

Andra finally brought a halt to our hoppin’ and boppin’ by fanning herself dramatically and suggesting we get another round. Enide and I trailed behind her until we located vacant seats at a less clamorous end of the hall. One of the roaming, tray-yielding waiters served us while we chatted but before the conversation had gathered pace, Andra’s attention was drawn by a small group of people she appeared to be acquainted with. She offered her excuses, took a sip from her glass, then rose and wandered away.

“What is she up to?” Enide asked suspiciously.

“You mean Andra?” I asked as I caught one final glance of our friend’s back as she disappeared among the revellers. “I don’t know. Do you know those people?” I asked.

Enide shrugged. “I’m not sure. There are a lot of people here I vaguely know or recollect seeing before — old girls, from school, that sort of thing,” she said.

I sat with my legs crossed and arms folded, doing my best to appear casually at home and politely uninterested in everyone. Now that Andra had vacated her place beside me, I lounged back a little more into the small, finely made two-seat sofa, one of many dotted about the ballroom periphery. Enide in turn had ensconced herself on a matching chair, adjacent to the dainty sofa.

“All I know is that she’s instructed me to avoid awkward topics — until later that is,” I added, wanting to make sure Enide knew I wasn’t done trying to hash things out with her.

Enide had been scanning the room warily as she spoke. In turn, I used the opportunity to take a lingering look at her in her finery, though in the end, all I truly saw were those large, expressive eyes.

She seemed irritable when she spoke again and did so without looking at me. “Since when do you listen to Andra?” she asked.

“Since she persuaded you to come.”

She turned her face to look at me. Her warm, bashful smile had a hint of reticence and she appeared torn between wanting to be open and an instinct to keep her guard up.

“Thank you — by the way,” she said after hesitating a while longer.

“For not crashing the convertible?” I asked jokingly.

“Ha! Yes — that, certainly” she exclaimed with a chuckle. “But more so for earlier — for — you know — breaking the ice.”

“Ah, that,” I said, with phoney indifference. “Kissing girls is a burden I’m forced to endure now and then,” I deadpanned.

Enide laughed. “Then again,” she seemed to recall mournfully, “you did cost me a bet,” she mused.

“Cost — you?” I asked archly, making it obvious that I was jogging her memory to remind her who settled her debt.

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Enide proclaimed with an almost comical air of formality. “Where the money came from isn’t important,” she pointed out with a lofty gesture of her hand. “She took a class on psychology last year ... then one of her aunts — who is constantly being seen by one shrink or another — she gave Andra a book about it,” Enide confided. “This was a few months ago — you were still up at Fortunbrae. But anyway, Andra has become insufferable ever since she finished reading it,” Enide vented. “She seems to think she can understand everything and everyone.”

I laughed, as much at Enide’s unconcealed annoyance as anything else. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that fellow — Dr. or Professor what’s his name? The psychoanalysis chap I mean — it wouldn’t surprise me if he was here too.” I said, looking about the crowd.

Enide nodded and looked over her shoulder as if to shoo off anyone who might be taking therapy notes.

We watched the dancers as they moved in harmony to one of the slower melodies. “I hear your Uncle Eri is coming to town,” Enide said casually.

I glanced around the ballroom, taking in the beautifully dressed guests. “Uh ... yes, he is,” I replied. “But I don’t know which day exactly — mind you, knowing Uncle Eri, he probably still hasn’t decided when he’ll be coming.”

The air was infused with the aroma of fresh flowers, arranged in vases and positioned throughout the room. The clink of glasses punctuated the music, mixing with the soft murmur of conversation and laughter.

The chandeliers above us bathed Enide’s face in a soft, warm light. She looked at me with a slightly guarded expression, her eyes searching mine. “Yes, Mother only mentioned that he is coming next week.”

There was, I thought, a note of something in her voice. I nodded, trying to brush off the odd feeling that had settled in my chest. “I can’t remember the last time I saw him in Earnell. It must have been before I left for school.”

Enide took a sip from her glass, her delicate fingers wrapped around the slender stem. “He was in town a few months ago, but my head was buried in my books studying for exams,” she said thoughtfully.

The musicians began a new tune, playing energetically from a corner of the ballroom. We both looked back at the floor, watching as dancers spun around gracefully, their bodies moving to the rhythm of the music.

“I know Uncle Eri is fond of you,” I said, recalling how he would keep all four of us entertained when we were younger.

Eni’s expression became distant, and she hesitated before speaking. “Oh ... believe me, I’m not the one he is most fond of.”

I noticed the way she fidgeted with the hem of her dress, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was bothering her. “You seem a bit preoccupied, Eni. Is everything alright?”

Enide hesitated again, her eyes searching mine. “Yes, everything is fine. I’ve just been thinking about ... things, that’s all,” she explained with a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

I leaned forward toward her. “You know you can talk to me about — well, anything you like, right?”