Winter's End Read online

  And Milena still didn’t come back. Might never come back . . . until Catharina died in that black hole. The worst moment was suppertime. Since the detention cell was under the refectory cellars, the girls knew that Catharina was close to them, and they had difficulty forcing down what was on their plates.

  At last Helen woke up in the morning and it was Friday. At ten to twelve, punctual if none too steady on his feet, the Skunk wheeled his cart of clean sheets across the yard. From the music room, Helen saw him disappear into the laundry to exchange them for the dirty bed linen.

  “Happy of heart and pure of soul,

  In unison we sing.

  Midst fields and forests we will stroll . . .”

  Old Ma Crackpot made them repeat that verse for the twelfth time, but Helen wasn’t listening to the others singing anymore. Oh, let there be a letter for me, she thought. Let there be a letter! I can’t wait another whole week.

  On her way out of the refectory, a sixth-year girl came up to her. “Are you Helen Dormann?”

  “Yes.”

  “Here’s your mail, then! And don’t forget the little present next time.”

  “I won’t — I promise!” said Helen, beside herself with delight as she put the two envelopes in her pocket. There were two of them! All week she’d been afraid of not getting a letter, and now she had two!

  Feverishly, she searched the school yard for Vera Plasil. “Vera, could you wait at the door for me, please?”

  The lavatories were dilapidated, but the only place where you could be left in peace on your own for a few moments, so long as there was someone to stand guard at the door. Once inside, Helen took the envelopes out of her coat pocket. Her name was on both, Helen Dormann, the girls’ boarding school, and her class, fourth year, but the handwriting on them was different. The first envelope was in Milos’s writing, which she easily recognized, large and neatly connected. The second, an inimitable, almost adult hand, was Milena’s! She opened Milos’s letter first. After all, this was the one she’d been waiting for all week. It was short:

  Helen

  I got your letter, and here’s mine. I hope it won’t be too Skunk-scented! Bartolomeo didn’t come back the other evening. I have something serious to tell you. Be at the corner of the east and north walls of your school at midnight on Friday. Promise?

  Milos

  P.S. I haven’t told you about myself either. I’m seventeen. I like Greco-Roman wrestling and eating (and I’m very glad I met you too).

  Helen wondered if what she was holding was her first-ever love letter. The repetition of the last sentence of her own letter almost word for word suggested that Milos wanted a close friendship. Emotion almost made her dizzy. So many extraordinary things had been happening these last few days. She put the letter back in its envelope and opened Milena’s, which was longer.

  Dear Helen,

  I can imagine how angry with me you must be, and I really do understand. But you have to know that I didn’t let you down on purpose.

  What happened is this: Bartolomeo came back to the library just after you left. We talked for over two hours, and at the end of that time, I decided to go on the run with him. We’re leaving tonight. I’m never coming back to the boarding school again.

  We were hiding behind the fountain when you passed just now carrying a basket. I don’t know what was in it, but thank you for bringing it for me!

  At the moment we’re at my consoler’s house, where I’m writing you this letter. She’ll send it on to you via the Skunk.

  There’s so much I’d like to tell you, but I don’t have time. Milos knows all about it. He’ll explain. Ask him.

  I hope we’ll meet again. You’ve been my best friend all these years. I’ll never forget you. I’m very sad to say good-bye.

  Love and kisses,

  Milena

  P.S. I feel terrible about Catharina, but I had to do what I’m doing now.

  “Helen, I’m getting cold out here. And it’s raining too.”

  Waiting at the door, Vera was getting impatient. Helen wiped her eyes with her handkerchief, hid the two envelopes in the inside pocket of her coat, and emerged from the lavatories.

  At evening study time, it was as if the ghosts of Milena Bach and Catharina Pancek occupied their empty places in the third row and the front row respectively. The absence of the two girls weighed on everyone’s mind. Miss Zesch, sweating more than ever, was almost falling asleep.

  “What’s Greco-Roman wrestling, Vera?” Helen whispered.

  “I think it’s men in swimsuits flinging themselves on each other and each tries to get the other guy down on his back.”

  “God — really?”

  “And they stink of sweat and grunt a lot.”

  “Oh.”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “Just wondering.”

  Helen couldn’t stop thinking of Milos, telling herself all the time that she must be crazy to go falling in love with a boy she’d seen for less than five minutes, and in a dim light too. Another thing was that she couldn’t conjure up his face. The harder she tried to remember it, the more elusive it was. She thought she remembered that Milos wasn’t very tall; his cheeks were rather round, yes; he had curly hair, yes; and a nice smile — yes, yes, and yes again — but she couldn’t visualize him anymore. She decided that what she really wanted was to fall in love, and the first boy to come along would do. She just hoped she wasn’t going to be too badly disappointed.

  And what did he want from her? The idea of meeting him by night fascinated her, but it scared her too. I have something serious to tell you. What did that mean? And she’d have to get out of the dormitory in the middle of the night. Luckily Miss Zesch, who was their supervisor again tonight, snored like a pig as soon as she fell asleep, and she didn’t surface again until early morning. She was by far the easiest of all the supervisors to deceive. Much more than Miss Merlute, a silent, cunning insomniac who went poking her long nose around among the rows of beds at any time of night. No, the real danger was from the other girls. Especially Vera, who was always a light sleeper and would want to know where she was going. Helen was tempted to tell Vera what was going on but decided against it. Sensible Vera was capable of waking the whole dormitory when the moment came, just to save Helen from putting herself at risk.

  Under the covers, Helen looked at the luminous hands of her watch; it was after ten, and Miss Zesch wasn’t snoring yet. She still wasn’t snoring at eleven. That was very strange. The light was on in her cubicle, but no other sign of life came from it. Was she determined to stay awake through the night now, of all times, and imitate Miss Merlute by prowling around the beds looking like a bird of prey? Helen strained her ears desperately. In the absence of the usual roaring sounds, a gentle little snore would have been enough for her, but even that didn’t come.

  At quarter to midnight, her patience exhausted, she decided to try her luck and go out anyway. She glanced at the next bed. Vera was sleeping peacefully with her mouth half open. Reassured, Helen ventured to sit up. She was going to get out of bed to go to her closet and get her clothes when Miss Zesch opened her cubicle door. Helen first froze like a statue and then lay down again, eyes wide.

  Miss Zesch was obviously not in her normal state of mind. Taking care to make no noise, she slipped out of her cubicle as slowly and surreptitiously as an assassin. What was more, although Helen felt she must be dreaming this part, she was wearing high-heeled shoes and an evening dress! Never, ever had she been seen with anything but clodhoppers on her feet, wearing huge pants or, on her good days, a thick woolly skirt. She closed the door behind her and tiptoed away. Helen waited for her to disappear entirely, restrained herself for a few more minutes, just in case the supervisor came back, although that seemed unlikely, and then, since nothing was moving, she dressed and made for the dormitory door in her own turn.

  It was a clear, cool night. Several long clouds were drifting in shreds across the full moon. Clutching her coat around
her, Helen skirted the east building, going around by the back of it. The perimeter wall rose on her left, dark and threatening. She followed it. A gray outline stood there at the corner. Milos! She waved and hurried toward him. He moved forward himself, smiling, and kissed her on both cheeks.

  “Helen! You had me scared. You’re late.”

  She was surprised to find him so much taller than she remembered. Bartolomeo must be extremely tall for his friend to seem short by comparison.

  “I’m sorry. I couldn’t get out. Our supervisor wasn’t asleep. And now she’s gone out herself — can you believe that? She left the dormitory just before midnight.”

  “Did she really? Then I know where she’s gone, and I’m going to show you. If you’re good at gymnastics.”

  “I’m great at gymnastics.”

  “Excellent. Can you climb a rope?”

  “Like a squirrel!”

  She wasn’t sure whether squirrels climbed ropes or not, but she felt like saying yes to everything tonight. She’d have jumped into a fire with Milos if he’d asked her to.

  “Wait for me here, then. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

  “Can’t you explain a bit first?”

  “Later!”

  Milos was already stuffing his cap in his pocket and beginning to climb. Helen was amazed by his strength and agility. Clinging to the gutter, he climbed as easily as a monkey. His fingers, hands, arms, and legs were moving all the time, and he didn’t stop except to get his breath back with his foot on a second-floor windowsill.

  “Be careful!” begged Helen down below.

  But in reply he just kept on climbing, and next moment he was just below the roof. He stayed hanging from the gutter for a few seconds, then swung from side to side a couple of times and threw his right leg over it. As he recovered his balance, something slipped out of his pocket and fell at Helen’s feet.

  “My knife!” he called down. “Can you pick up my knife?”

  She bent down, and retrieved a heavy pocket knife that must have at least six blades.

  Then there was a long silence. Milos had disappeared. She felt the cold seeping in under her coat. What was she doing here with this acrobatic boy who had something serious to tell her?

  She was still looking up at the roof in vain when a slight rustling noise attracted her attention. A little way off, a rope was passing over the gutter and dropping straight down the wall. She quickly unbuttoned her coat so that it wouldn’t hamper her, wedged the rope between her ankles as she had often done before, and began climbing. When she was level with the third story, she glanced down and was overcome by vertigo. She’d never climbed this high in gym lessons. And there was no mat here to soften the impact if she fell. Weird kind of first date, she thought. Is it always like this? She took a deep breath and went on. When she reached the gutter, she had no time to wonder how she was going to get up on the roof. Milos was already reaching a hand out to her.

  “Give me your right hand and take hold of my wrist. Not my hand, my wrist!”

  She took his wrist, and he took hers. Next moment Helen felt herself being lifted into the air. She hardly had to help herself at all with her knees and elbows before she was sitting beside Milos, who seemed as relaxed forty feet from the ground on top of this roof as he would have been on a sitting-room sofa.

  “That’s called a cross hold. It doubles your strength,” he explained.

  “I thought I was going to die,” breathed Helen.

  “Rest for a minute. We’ve done the toughest part.”

  “I should hope so.”

  They clambered over the damp slates of the roof and reached a skylight to which Milos had fastened the rope. He hauled it up now, coiled it, and fixed it to his belt. Then he opened the skylight far enough for them to slip in. It was easy to hang from the edge and then let yourself drop to the floor inside. Milos went first and landed silently, bending his knees to break his drop. Helen copied him with ease and felt that she had just impressed him twice in a short time: first by climbing the rope so well, then by jumping down into this loft. When Milos caught her, she felt light as a feather in his strong hands. He took a flashlight out of his pocket, switched it on, and swept the beam over the space around them.

  The loft was empty and dusty. There was nothing between the massive roof structure and the oak floorboards. They could stand upright in the middle of it but had to bend as they moved closer to the sides.

  “What are we doing here?” Helen asked.

  Milos put his forefinger to his lips and pointed down. “Shh! Listen!”

  The confused, muted sound of conversation came from the story below. There was even a sudden burst of laughter.

  “What’s going on?” Helen whispered.

  All Milos said was, “Got my knife there?”

  She handed it to him. He worked his way cautiously forward, eyes lowered, as if looking for something. When he reached the other side of the loft, he knelt down and signaled to Helen that he had found it and she could join him.

  “Give me a light,” he said, handing her the flashlight, and with the point of his knife he made an incision about four inches long where one of the floorboards looked weaker than the others.

  “Are you allowed knives in the boys’ school?” Helen marveled, crouching down beside him.

  “If we did only what’s allowed,” said Milos with a smile, “I wouldn’t have a rope or a knife, and I certainly wouldn’t be here with you in the middle of the night.”

  “When are you going to explain? I’ve earned the right to know, haven’t I?”

  “Hang on a little longer. I’m nearly finished. If you like surprises, you won’t be disappointed.”

  He worked away for several more minutes, removing tiny wood shavings. Then he opened another blade of his knife and used it as a lever. The floorboard groaned slightly and resisted, but then it gave way. Milos signaled to Helen to switch off the flashlight, and he slowly raised the oak board. At once the voices, barely audible a moment ago, could be heard clearly.

  “You go first!” said Milos, inviting Helen to look down.

  She lay flat on her stomach and placed her face against the narrow rectangle of light. What she saw seemed so unreal at first that she wondered if she was going out of her mind.

  There were about fifty people. At the back of the large room stood a buffet laden with food and carafes of wine. Rows of chairs faced a platform with an oak table on it. The rows on the left of the central aisle seemed to be reserved for women, and Helen immediately spotted the Tank standing near the front row with her inseparable ally, Miss Merlute, beside her. Squeezed into a purple evening dress too tight for her beefy shoulders, the headmistress was smiling. Beside her, Miss Merlute wore an extraordinary structure like a helping of sauerkraut on her head, which was bobbing this way and that. Her nose could have been a sausage sticking out of the sauerkraut.

  Behind her sat other familiar figures, although they were barely recognizable this evening: first the Skeleton, who had tried unsuccessfully to plump herself up with shoulder pads and other devices; Old Ma Crackpot, breasts swelling like mortar shells under a bottle-green outfit; Miss Mersch in her wheelchair, made up like a birthday cake and clutching a sparkly black evening bag in her white-gloved hands; and finally Miss Zesch as Helen had seen her emerge from her cubicle, but now further adorned by an improbable little yellow hat. Standing on his own near the buffet, the Skunk was fiddling with his cap while eyeing the wine carafes.

  Helen almost burst out laughing. Then some men she didn’t know took their seats on the right of the aisle. Helen straightened up in astonishment. “Is this some kind of a fashion parade?”

  “No, it’s the annual assembly of the staff of both boarding schools.”

  “What sort of assembly? And how do you know all this?”

  She had to wait a little longer. Fascinated by the spectacle below them, Milos was taking it all in. Sometimes he shook with silent, suppressed laughter. After a few minutes, he p
ropped himself on his elbows and looked at Helen. The light coming up through the gap he had made in the loft floor faintly illuminated their hands and faces.

  “Listen, Helen,” Milos whispered. “No other student at either school has ever seen what we’re seeing now. When I told you to go first, it was a historic privilege! Did you recognize the staff of your school?”

  “Yes, they’re all there. And they’re all dressed up! Anyone would think they were crazy.”

  “They are crazy. And the men are the staff of my school. Mad too in their own way.”

  “Milos, you’re scaring me . . . and anyway, what are they all doing here together?”

  “I told you: it’s their annual assembly, and it’s super-secret. They’re getting together to welcome a man called Van Vlyck. He’s a leading figure in the Phalange, one of its top security bosses, and in particular he’s in charge of boarding schools like ours. Apparently they’re all scared stiff of him. We’ll see.”

  Alarmed, Helen lowered her voice even further. “What if they catch us? You said this was supersecret. You could have warned me!”

  “They won’t catch us. No one ever catches me.”

  “So why wouldn’t they catch you sometime in the future?”

  “Because I’m lucky, see? Always have been.”

  “Lucky? You expect me to be satisfied with that?”

  “Yes, I do!”

  Helen wanted to lose her temper with Milos, but somehow she couldn’t manage it. There was such confidence in his smile that she found herself believing what he said without the slightest doubt: no, they’d never be caught.

  “Milos, you said boarding schools like ours. Meaning what?”

  “Oh, there’s too much to explain all at once, Helen! I’ll tell you about it all later. That’s a promise.”

  “OK, so why is this man Van Vlyck coming here?”