Chapter 7

The pavements began to fill with the late crowd as evening slowly descended. Electric lights cast their reflections on the wet roads, dampened by a sprinkle of rain that had been falling steadily for the past half hour. Tourists, convention-goers, and businessmen, tired after a long day, were brought in by taxis that made splashing sounds in the cold puddles forming outside.

While waiting at the bar in the Konnagatt Hotel, my attention was drawn to a stout man prowling restlessly about in the lobby. I watched as he entered the bar with a brooding frown across his square face. He peered around as though in search of someone, before retreating to the lobby.

There were other patrons in the hotel’s tastefully decorated and moodily illuminated bar. At the bar counter, two men sat side by side, their fingers running along racing forms, speaking to one another so softly that it seemed they were reciting incantations. Two elegantly dressed women sat at a table to my left, smoking long, thin cigarettes wrapped in brown paper.

By the large bay window, a tanned, well-dressed man with very white teeth — obviously less indigenous to Earnell than the other barflies — poured out a bottle of Dr. Pierce into a tall glass filled to the brim with ice.

I loitered at the bar while waiting for Enide to return from Braxa. Although the trip was part of Enide’s weekly routine, for which she hardly needed an escort, I was feeling bored and looking for company. Neither Enide nor Andra had been around very much during the previous days. Since Enide wasn’t due back until later that evening, we arranged to meet at the Konnagatt Hotel’s bar, located conveniently across the street from the train station.

In a juvenile sort of way, I felt pretty sophisticated as I sat at my table, delicately pronging olives with a tiny fork. I’d never ventured to a bar by myself; it had always been as part of a group, usually in the company of adults. In any case, there is something about the ambience of a hotel bar on a rainy night that makes me think I might soon find myself hobnobbing with veiled women or similar sketchy characters.

It had been nearly a fortnight since I returned home from school. Much of my time was spent with Enide, but also with Andra, who was with us more often than not. When the three of us were together, fun and laughter seldom receded. My friends were affectionate, voluble, and unpretentious, finding the most happiness in being with friends and simple amusements.

As luck would have it, I had also stumbled into a job of sorts. Although Earnell was not a garrison town itself, its proximity to the Sanbridge army base and naval facilities at Braxa made it a desirable location for many well-heeled officers. The result was a lavish Joint Legion Club nestled amidst vast tracts of parkland. I have heard it said that the town’s Legion Club puts many private country clubs to shame. Best of all, as a soon-to-be officer cadet, I could make use of it without straining my meagre finances.

I went over to the club at the earliest opportunity, wanting to have a destination to take my family as well as Enide and Andra. Brandishing my acceptance letter from Varcri, I waltzed into the club and went through the bureaucratic rigmarole to become a member. Afterwards, one of the genial chaps from the reception desk offered to show me around the premises.

At the stables, my guide struck up a conversation with one of the instructors before introducing me. As the three of us chatted, it became evident that the pair had two things at the forefront of their minds. First, the club was rather short of riding instructors. Second, they were well aware that as a recent graduate from Fortunbrae, I was likely to have experience with equestrian arts. I won’t summon every detail of our conversation. Suffice it to say, I was soon recruited to help coach the under-sixteen Atartoup teams.

I would like to think that my sense of civic-mindedness runs deep enough that refusing wouldn’t have crossed my mind. Besides, they only requested my assistance twice a week, about four hours each day. It was hardly any kind of burden so I readily agreed.

In short, I couldn’t have conjured up a more agreeable state of affairs if I had planned it myself. By any reasonable measure, I was enjoying the quintessentially idyllic summer before university. Yet, as I sat in the bar waiting, I felt dismal and uneasy, scoffing at the thought of all those sentimental novels depicting summers filled with first love and what have you. The reality didn’t seem nearly as entertaining.

At first, knowing that Enide shared my trepidation served to buck up my resolve. I told myself that we were both being practical and level-headed about things. But as the days went on, I came to realise that Enide felt the same yearning I did. I couldn’t point to any one thing she had said or done, but it was there, in those imperceptible moments that lingered between us.

Andra, as observant as an owl perched in a tree, had taken to teasing us wryly, all too aware of the growing feelings between Enide and me. Eventually, however, Andra set aside innuendo and insinuation. Several days prior, she confronted me with unflinching candour, her eyes gleaming with intensity. She had urged me to talk to Enide and scolded me for my reluctance.

I knew, without a shadow of a doubt that Andra had our best interests at heart. Despite my unwillingness to retread the same ground, I felt obligated to explain my misgivings to her. With little conviction, I laid out the same dismal explanation I had offered to my mother and my sister — and myself, every sleepless night.

Not that I gave a very thoughtful account of myself. I suspect I came across as rather sullen, but that was the way I felt. Andra hadn’t appeared all that convinced though she refrained from pressing the matter further.

Nevertheless, following our conversation, my resolve to avoid any romantic entanglement and keep things with Enide on the straight and narrow began to waver. Worse still, I felt a sense of guilt whenever Enide and I spent time with one another. I began to ask myself if my presence afflicted her as much as being in hers tormented me.

It occurred to me that my lamentable circumstances could stand another drink. Just then, I spotted Enide strolling toward the bar. I raised my hand to beckon her and stood up to greet her. Through a haze of cigarette smoke, the two women sitting close by gave us a brief sideways glance.

Enide approached with a smile. I suspect that to the casual onlooker, everything would have seemed normal. But I knew Enide better than that. Behind that inward kind of smile, I could see the strain and effort. She looked tired and wanted rid of me without further ado. I returned her smile, doing my utmost to conceal how dejected I felt.

“How do you do?” Enide said with formality once she had taken her seat at the table.

“How do you do?” I responded, playing along with her game. “Lovely evening.”

“Beautiful!” she scoffed, brushing droplets from her sleeve. “Are you Mr. Durrg?”

“I always am,” I replied with feigned bluster.

Enide smirked. “An admirable trait.”

“I aim for consistency,” I told her. “You must be Miss. Stranda?”

She nodded and straightened her hair, smiling archly at me from beneath her lashes.

“Do anything interesting today?” I asked, no longer sure if I was speaking to Enide or Miss. Stranda, whom I had apparently only just met.

“Oh, this and that — I’ve been consoling suicidal seminarians,” she replied.

“Oh ... how worthy. It seems we both possess admirable traits.” I quipped, playing the foil. “Have you heard the expression, ‘prevention is nine-tenths the cure’? Well, in cases of suicide, I feel sure it must be closer to ten-tenths the cure.”

She chortled and I felt a little better about being there.

“So then Miss. Stranda, it’s early,” I said looking at my watch. “Why don’t I show you the real Earnell?”

Enide’s eyebrows rose. “That’s very kind of you, but I live here. I was born in Earnell.”

“Oh, that’s right, I forgot. In that case, why don’t I get you a drink,” I said, casting my gaze toward the bored-looking waiters behind the bar, “and then you show me the real Earnell?”

“Thank you,” she said with a shake of her head. “But I’m a little tired. Would you mind taking me home Rody?” Enide asked, abruptly dispensing with the sham personas we’d been toying with.

I tried to hide how deflated I felt. “Of course,” I said casually and turned to grab my coat.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Enide apologised quickly. “I didn’t mean right away,” she continued. “Please, Rody, go ahead and finish your drink.” I was ashamed of how transparent I was to her.

It pained me to see Enide so on edge, tiptoeing on eggshells, afraid she might say the wrong thing, afraid she might hurt my feelings. Our easy, effortless bond was dissolving before my eyes.

She hesitated before taking off her coat and draping it over the chair beside her. She wore a sleeveless dress in a chequered green and white pattern. A scarf made from the same fabric hung around her neck, though it had narrow green stripes instead of squares. It went perfectly with her dress. She’d knotted it around her neck almost like a man’s tie, though it was very long and reached down past her lap.

“You didn’t have to come you know,” Enide said quietly. “I usually make my way back by myself — I’m a big girl now.”

“Umm ... yes ... and in all the right places,” I said suggestively, hoping to lighten the mood.

Enide smiled stiffly. “You’re in a frolicsome mood.”

Initially, the word “frolicsome” caused me to chuckle, and I muttered it to myself. However, the way Enide had uttered it had a sting to it, and my mood quickly soured. The logic of my reaction, if there was any, was bound to be unsound. Even at that moment, I was aware of my irrationality. I had the urge to lash out. The pretence had become unbearable and the thought of continuing to wear a facade was too much to bear.

“You know very well that what I’m going through is anything but ‘frolicsome’,” I snarled harshly — and regretted it instantly.

“Is that so?” Enide asked with a frosty tone. She gripped the arms of her chair tightly. “Please enlighten me Rody — has it been dreadfully difficult for you these past few days!?” she sneered with eyes ablaze. Like many girls with an otherwise even disposition, Enide’s temper could be cyclonic.

“Er ... what does that mean?” I asked lamely, hoping to create some wiggle room for myself. My sister had told me about Enide’s feelings for me in the strictest confidence and I didn’t want to let the cat out of the bag.

“Stop it,” Enide chided without heat. “I know perfectly well that you know,” she insisted unhappily. “Who told you? Was it Andra?”

I shook my head in what I hoped was an ambiguous gesture. “It doesn’t matter,” I told her. “I know how you feel about me — or at least, I have an inkling ... but do you know how I ——”

“This isn’t going to work Rody,” Enide interrupted. “You know it as well as I do. You are going up to Varcri and I’ll be staying here.” Enide let out a sigh and gazed into my eyes with determination, although her pale blue eyes were glistening with sadness. The thought of her crying made my heart tighten but before I could respond, Enide stood and picked up her coat.

“Do you mind taking me home now?” Enide asked and without waiting for a reply, she turned and walked out into the lobby.

I picked up my coat and rushed to follow her, leaving cash on the table. Out in the lobby, I found neither Enide nor the square-faced man. A well-dressed, grey-haired gentleman standing by the reception nodded sympathetically before indicating the hotel’s entrance with a small gesture. Outside, beneath the Konnagatt’s elaborate metal and glass canopy, Enide stood waiting for me, watching as wet cars drove up and down the street.

I breathed out with a sense of relief and approached her. After taking Enide’s coat from beneath her arm, I offered to hold it for her. She slid into it wordlessly, gracefully draping her hair over the collar with a deft flick.

I inhaled her scent, imagining the softness of her hair against my face. I fought the impulse to pull her close against me and instead, pointed in the direction of the parked car. Enide didn’t bother with her umbrella as we strolled along the pavement side by side.

Our cards were laid bare — there was nothing else to hide. One way or another, I was determined to resolve things with Enide, to hash it out with her. But, as I pondered how to begin, Enide resumed our conversation.

“We could just go out — for the summer I mean — if you want,” Enide said matter-of-factly. “It would be ... fine,” she said, glancing across at me. “As long as we keep things casual, with no expectation that ——”

“Enide,” I interrupted to preempt her, “there is nothing casual about how I feel about you.”

“Heavens above Rody!” Enide huffed irritably. “Why don’t you ask Andra out? She likes you, you know.”

I didn’t bother hiding my irritation, “First of all — I’m not some toddler you can distract with a rattle,” I told her, “And by the way, weren’t you the one who told me not to go out with Andra — her supposedly delicate emotional state, or something?”

“I said not to fall in love with her,” Enide countered. “I didn’t forbid you from asking her out! Honestly Rody — have you considered you might be the emotionally delicate one?”

“Look — this isn’t about Andra,” I insisted, redirecting the conversation with a wave of my hand. “It’s about you and me.”

“And how are you and I supposed to get through this Rody?” she demanded. “Some big, passionate love affair, then you waltz off at the end of summer and we just go back to the way we were?”

I sighed. “This is all I’ve been thinking about ... for all my waking hours.”

“What have you concluded? — Rody, I —— “ she paused, taking a deep breath before resuming. “I have been thinking about us far longer than you have,” she declared emphatically. “Do you remember when you last came back to Earnell? I was still imagining what it would be like to be with you — after you finished school. When you weren’t at Fortunbrae anymore — at that stupid, far away school your father sent you to,” she recounted with bitterness.

I tried hard to stifle my emotions. I thought about how hard the last few days had been for me, then imagined how Enide must have felt for all those years. I felt racked.

With all these thoughts swirling in my head, I hadn’t noticed that we were almost past the car. I stopped and reached for Enide. I’d only intended to stop her going further but then drew her against me instead. I wanted to hold her, wanted to draw out the sadness from her as if it was venom from a snake bite. She didn’t resist — at first — but then put her hand up against my chest and stopped me from embracing her completely.