Sighing, he ran his thumb lovingly across the face time had left behind. A captivating smile, high cheekbones, porcelain skin. Impossible to see, but the bridge of the nose would be peppered with freckles, hinting at the lazy summer afternoons that had given way to the bleakest, longest winter. Why couldn't those summer days have gone on forever…? He paused for a moment, realising with a tinge of guilt, he'd wished the same of this summer.
Shaking away that thought, he returned his attention to the photograph. It was one of his favourites, even before everything fell apart. Before its corners became creased, its edges frayed, and the thick photographer's paper soft after too much handling. He should have found a proper home for it by now, a frame at the very least. But it slipped too easily into the inner breast pocket of his jackets; fitted the palm of his hand perfectly. Besides, it never seemed right, being separated from his beautiful wife by a piece of cold, hard glass.
I decided my heart couldn't mend, learning to live in pieces was the best I could hope for, my love…
His thumb gently brushed back and forth, following a familiar, well-worn path. If he looked closer, beyond the strikingly beautiful woman smiling back at him, he might notice the faint discolouration from his touch. But it was hard to find against the photograph's orange-brown tinge.
Life would have been perfect if you hadn't left, Agathe…
It had taken time – years really – but he'd eventually come to realise, she would have never left if the choice had been hers. I'll admit, I wasn't always easy to live with, but you would never leave your little angels behind. Not when they were still so young, needed you so desperately. We all did…
He smiled back at her. A sad, weary smile. You would be so proud of our beautiful children – well, they're only beautiful because of you, my love. And they sing like the angels you always knew they were. I can't imagine you'd be too proud of me, though. I've made a mess of things, again. Another sigh as a hand reached for the glass of whiskey on the side table. Without shifting his gaze from the photograph, he threw back a mouthful. A cheap bottle he kept tucked in the bottom drawer of the desk, it burned the back of his throat, but he barely noticed.
His eyes were fixed on the woman staring back at him. She always stole his attention. Even when she only ever looked back with those sepia eyes. He knew their shade of blue by heart. He always would. And, in the unlikely event, he forgot, Liesl would always be here to remind him. He frowned. Well, he'd always just assumed she would. He swallowed another mouthful, this time, wincing at the burn.
What scheme had Elsa dreamed up?
He shouldn't be too hard on her. After all, he'd seen her struggle with friends' children. It should have been obvious she wasn't maternal, that she'd find his seven a handful. He'd asked too much, expected her to take to it, just like you. To Elsa, it probably made perfect sense to send the children to boarding school. After all, that's what friends had done. Then she'd be free to carry on a life of lunches, garden parties, trips to Vienna, holidays on the Mediterranean, nights at the theatre and opera. He didn't begrudge her at all. God knows, there'd been times when he'd thought boarding school was the answer. But you made me promise, didn't you, my love. How many times did you beg?
He sighed. It hadn't really been an option, not even before this summer – before Maria – before he'd learned to love the children again. Not that he'd ever stopped loving them. It had just been too hard. They reminded me too much of you. Reminded him that his beautiful wife should be with them, reminded him of the times they'd never share.
But that was before Maria…
He took another sip of whiskey, trying to ignore is rough edge. You'd like her, darling, you'd like her a lot. He smiled at her fixed, sepia smile – captured perfectly in happier, carefree times. God, he missed her. He could almost hear the laughter that always accompanied that wide smile. The children adore her, too, my love. But then, he knew she'd see that, looking down over them.
He scoffed, almost a laugh. Sometimes, I wonder if they don't love her more than me! It may have worried him in those early days when he first returned from Vienna. There may have even been a hint of envy, after all, he was their father. But it only made him realise how big their little hearts were. If they could open their hearts to the governess, then perhaps, they could find it in their hearts to forgive their father for his appalling behaviour and neglect. And by some miracle, they had.
He tried to bite back the stubborn smile dancing at the corners of his mouth. She's back, my love! Resisting the urge to shout out the words, his heart skipped a beat instead. I wish I knew why she'd left. But then, you know I'm hopeless at that kind of thing. Thankfully, your intuition was more than enough for both of us. He sighed. Truth was that Maria's reappearance was more confusing than her sudden disappearance. But none of that mattered. The most important thing was, she'd returned.
We never got a second chance, my love.
But this time, he'd been given a rare opportunity – a second chance – a chance to make things right.
Now, he could see beyond trying to live in pieces. Now, I believe you – my heart can mend…
oOo
Liesl stared at the light streaming into the hallway from under the study door. Would Father be angry? As the summer went on, it hadn't been as bad, but he still hated being interrupted in his study, especially at this late hour. Clenching her fingers in a fist, she went to raise her hand, then hesitated. Perhaps Fraulein Maria was right, maybe she should wait until the morning. But she wouldn't sleep a wink, not when she knew Baroness Schraeder wanted to send her brothers and sisters to new schools, it was worse than her being sent to finishing school. Marta and Gretl were still too young.
The Baroness hadn't said the exact words, but it sounded like she wanted to send them all to boarding school. They'd only see each other during school holidays. She shook her head, that would never work. Tightening her fist, she went to rap on the door…
As if reading her mind, in the distance, Baroness Schraeder's laugh rippled through the foyer. It sounded crueler than usual. Liesl dropped her hand and wiped a sweaty palm down the skirt of her dress. She's not too sharp, you know. That's what Baroness Schraeder had told Uncle Max. Her eyes stung with unshed tears.
Taking a step back from the door, she took a deep breath, and then another, telling herself to get control. The last thing she wanted was to cry in front of Father. He hated tears. Her eyes found the doorway a little further along the hallway. Perhaps she should go to the library. She could pull herself together, make sure she wouldn't end up a blubbering mess, and then speak to Father.
She sighed, gripped by uncertainty.
oOo
"So, tell me more about this garden party," Max leaned back on the settee beside Elsa, crossing one ankle over the other.
"I wish I could, but there's still so much to plan," Elsa sighed. "At this late stage, we'll have to hand deliver invitations, and I need to go through food lists with Frau Muntz," she rolled her eyes – that cook of Georg's was never easy…
"Sounds like you'll be busy," Max seriously doubted there were enough hours in the coming days if everything was to meet Elsa's exacting standard. But who was he to question a woman on a mission. "And are you still going to town tomorrow?"
"Oh, yes," Elsa smiled. "I need to be sure that dressmaker is working on my little sun dress and isn't distracted with some other thing." She took a sip of her gin and tonic. Not that she could imagine any of the other customers taking priority over Captain von Trapp's fiancé. Still, she couldn't simply assume she was top of their list. Who knew how things worked out here in the countryside…
"Is there enough time before Sunday?" Max frowned.
"I'm hoping to use the plans from the party," she answered confidently. "Of course, we'll need to tweak a few things – finger food, shift everyone outside, that sort of thing."
"Makes sense…" Max casually brushed a piece of fluff from his trousers. "Are you sure we can't squeeze in a few songs from the children?"
"Max…" Elsa scolded.
"What…?" Max looked up innocently. "You saw the reception they received at the party," he enthused, "the crowd adored them…"
"There won't be any singing at the garden party, Max," Elsa gave him a stern look. There was so much to be done over the next three days, she didn't have time to waste arguing about such silly things. "I don't think there's any need for a full orchestra either," she continued, expertly guiding the conversation away from the children. "Not like the one we had at the party."
"Oh, we'll need something," Max was of the belief any soiree no matter how small, was far more successful with a little background music. If nothing else, it filled those awkward voids in conversation. And if the performance was good – like the children at the party – it could become the conversation.
"I was thinking just a little ensemble, perhaps," Elsa reached across to the side table for her cigarette case.
"A string quartet should do nicely," Max agreed. Taking another sip of the smooth whiskey, he could picture a crowd spilling down the terrace onto the back lawn to the sound of violins. "Would you like me to arrange something?"
"Oh, would you, Max?" Elsa turned to him with a grateful smile. With Georg so busy, everything seemed to be falling on her. She made a mental note to have a word with him later about working too hard.
"I'll make a few calls tomorrow," Max smiled, happy to help. "Of course, it is late notice, so no promises…"
"Oh, Max, don't you dare let me down!" she threatened. "I'm relying on you…" she added with a smile and a flick of the clip on her cigarette case.
"What's wrong?" Max watched Elsa's smile fall away.
"I didn't realise I only had one left," Elsa sighed into the near-empty case. Thanks to that nun turning up, everything had been such a rush before dinner and she'd forgotten to refill her cigarette case. "I'll have to go upstairs and get some more…"
"Well, don't be too long," Max smiled. "You know how bored I get with my own company!"
"Oh, Max, you're never boring!" Elsa laughed, reaching out and giving his arm a playful push. "While you're waiting, why don't you make yourself useful," rising from the settee, she handed her empty glass to him with a brilliant smile. "Another gin and tonic, please…"
Max took her glass with a laugh.
Turning his body on the settee to look behind him, his eyes followed Elsa as she glided out through the sitting room door into the foyer. He turned back to the empty sitting room. There had to be a way to get those children singing at the garden party. The more they performed in front of a crowd, the more Georg would realise their talent. It was a rare thing, to find seven beautiful voices over a lifetime, but to find them in one family – Georg's family, of all places – was unheard of. And here they were, just waiting for him to pluck them from obscurity.
Stretching out an arm, he placed Elsa's empty glass on the side table, wondering if she might prove a bigger hurdle than Georg. She seemed reluctant to share the spotlight with the children. Fraulein Maria on the other hand, was only too happy to let the children shine.
He took a sip of whiskey. As long as the governess stayed, he had an ally. Or at least someone who could change Georg's mind…
oOo
Sucking in a breath, Liesl froze. What was that …? There were footsteps coming from the foyer, and they were getting louder. Those steps could only belong to one person. The unmistakable clipping of heels echoed around the foyer. Leaning against the wall, she hid in the shadows of the dimly lit hallway. Surely, she wasn't on her way to the study, too…
Holding her breath, the steps were getting louder, closer. Oh, no! Baroness Schraeder was coming this way. Her eyes darted up and down the hallway, she had to do something. Realising there was no other option, she rushed to the nearest door, turned the handle, and quickly ducked around the door.
Closing the door silently behind her, her eyes settled on the key in the lock. Turning the key with one hand, she reached for the light switch with the other and, with a flicker and buzz, plunged the room into darkness. Safe at last, she finally released her breath, pressing her back against the door, and trying to breathe.
Searching around for her father in the dull light, she was surprised not to find him sitting behind the desk. He must be there. Blinking, it took her eyes a moment or two before they adjusted to the silvery moonlight streaming through the French doors. They were open to the courtyard and the heavy drapes were tied back, but the sheer curtains appeared almost ghostly as they rippled in the evening breeze. Shivering, even though it was still warm, her eyes darted back to the desk. Father wasn't here…
Still, she hoped she'd avoided Baroness Schraeder. Turning to the door, she rested her forehead against its cool, hard timber and breathed. Closing her eyes, praying she'd gone unnoticed, she strained her ears for the telltale clip-clop of the Baroness' heels…
"So, who are we hiding from…?"
Liesl spun from the door, blinking into the darkness of the study. "Sshh…" she hissed across the room in the direction of the leather armchairs and sofa ringed around the black fireplace at the far end of the study. Straining her ears, she could still hear the clip of Baroness Schraeder's heels, despite the study's heavy door. But they were faint. She was certain they were fading into the distance. Perhaps she was just hoping against hope.
Not wanting to take any chances, she decided against turning the light back on. Telling herself, it was so the Baroness wouldn't see the light under the door, she didn't mind that it also meant Father was less likely to see she'd been crying. Father doesn't like tears. Stepping softly away from the safety of the door, she reached out, hoping her fingertips would find the edge of the desk as she passed by. Her eyes were still adjusting to the dull light, and she didn't want to risk a bruise from its hard edge.
"Are you going to tell me, or do I have to guess…?"
Having negotiated the desk, she reached out for the back of the sofa, her fingers finding the soft leather. It was dark, like all the furniture in Father's study, making it difficult to find against the dark floor rugs. But in the strange moonlight, with the curtains' shadows shimmering and rippling on the walls and furniture, it was easy to imagine a heaving hulk lurching on silver-capped waves.
Even in the dark, she already knew her father would be seated in the same armchair he'd sat in all her life. Stepping behind the sofa, her hand came to a rest on his chair's high back, the leather feeling cool to her touch. She preferred a roaring fire, but of course, it was far too warm tonight. It would be weeks before the cool nights arrived, weeks before fires were needed to take the chill off the rooms as the sun hung lower, less bright in the autumn sky.
Bending down, she placed a kiss on her father's cheek. His features looked dark and mysterious, but then, everything looked dark and mysterious, shimmering with the silvery moonlight streaming through the open doors in the late evening breeze. She turned to take a seat on the sofa, separated from her father's armchair by a small side table, but strong fingers wrapped around her wrist, stopping her mid-step. She spun around to face him.
"Baroness Schraeder…?" Georg's eyes searched his daughter's as they caught the moonlight. When she'd kissed him, he'd felt the unmistakable dampness on her cheeks. "Have you spoken since dinner?"
Liesl shook her head. "No…" she whispered; the word sounded strangled as she tried to get it past the lump in her throat. "Kind of…" her mouth was so dry, it was difficult getting the words out.
Georg frowned. "Al-right…" he answered slowly, searching her eyes from the armchair. "What did she kind of say?" In the moonlight and shadows, it was impossible to read Liesl's expression. Waiting patiently for her to say something – anything – the seconds dragged on, and still, there wasn't a word. His hand instinctively splayed across his heart, where he'd slipped the photograph, where Agathe always remained. "Liesl…?"
The only response Liesl could come up with was an ugly sniff. Later she'd look back and wonder how she could have made such an awful, unladylike sound. But as her father pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight, she was simply his little girl. As the sobs racked her body, in one of the few moments of clarity, she wished she could go on being his little girl.
"Liesl… sweetheart…" Georg soothed, cradling his daughter's sobs against his chest. "Ssshhh…"
"I'm sorry…" Liesl buried her tears in Father's jacket. "I wasn't… going to cry…"
oOo
Sighing, Elsa walked along the hallway, leaving the foreign world of Frau Muntz's kitchen behind. Unable to find any of the staff, let alone a living soul in the kitchen, she would just have to add the garden party's menu to her long list of tasks for tomorrow. Emerging from the hallway, she glanced at the clock in the corner of the foyer. Nearly ten.
At least the children would be in bed by now, so there wouldn't be any awkward encounters to negotiate upstairs. God, she needed a cigarette.
Hesitating, she paused at the hallway leading to the study. She should speak to Georg about all this work he was doing and whether it was really necessary. After all, wasn't he supposed to be retired. She sighed. Thank God, the country no longer had a shoreline, otherwise, she'd never see him. Honestly, all these hours poring over plans and documents made no sense. What did a navy man do when there was no navy?
Deciding her cigarettes could wait, she had a much better idea. She'd surprise Georg with a little visit. After all, with her perched on the edge of his desk, he'd quickly forget about those papers or charts or whatever was keeping him busy. She smiled, thinking of all the delicious possibilities. With the children upstairs keeping the nun busy, and Max occupied with a malty whisky in the sitting room, she'd finally have Captain von Trapp all to herself. And behind closed doors, too.
Gliding down the hallway, she stopped outside the study door. Straining her ears, she couldn't hear anything. What did those military men always say? Some silly thing about the element of surprise. Smiling at the door in the dimly lit hallway, she fixed her sultriest expression – lips parted, lids heavy, head cocked suggestively. Just see him resist her now…
Reaching down to the door handle, she gave it a turn, and gently pushed the door. It didn't move. Forgetting sultriness for the moment, she frowned at her hand, still wrapped around the handle. Trying again, she gave it a firmer push. Still nothing. The door was obviously locked.
Taking a step back, she stared at the door in the dim light. There wasn't any light under the door, so she guessed he must be elsewhere.
If Georg wasn't in the study or the sitting room, where was he?
Her head spun around to the light at the end of the hallway. There wasn't a sound downstairs, so he must be… the governess…
Turning on her heel, she clipped down the hallway. Picking up pace, she made her way across the foyer to the staircase. She had to find Georg before he did something stupid.
Or more to the point, before that nun made him do something stupid.
oOo
"I'm sorry…" the sobbing had stopped some time ago, but the tears still fell. She felt awful. Not just for crying in front of Father – sobbing, really – but now her head ached, her eyes were swollen and stinging, and her throat felt like it had almost closed over. Whoever said a good cry was the best thing, can't have ever really cried. Not properly.
"Don't apologise…" Georg hummed against his daughter's hair, guilt over this whole school business weighing heavily. I should be the one who's sorry. "You have no reason to apologise…"
"But…" she sucked in a mouthful of air.
"But nothing…" he murmured, rocking her gently. "You don't have to apologise."
"I just don't understand…" Liesl choked out, "why am I being sent away?"
"You're not," he told her.
"But you heard…" Liesl's voice was high pitched, "she said… I was going to…"
"Ssshhh…" Georg soothed, "you're not going anywhere."
"But Father…"
"You're staying right here, attending your same old school, just like your brothers and sisters," he reached up and tenderly brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. "How could I let you go…" the words caught in his throat. "Not after the summer we've had," he added with a smile.
"But Baroness Schraeder…" Liesl's tears were proving impossible to hold back. "Finishing school…" she sobbed, pressing her cheek against his chest.
He sighed. Since Maria appeared on the terrace, very little of this evening was making sense… Liesl had always been so strong, her tears were so out of place. He tried to reach into the pocket of his trousers for a clean handkerchief, but with his daughter on his lap, it was impossible.
Instead, with one arm around her shoulders, he placed an arm under her knees and lifted her up from his lap as he stood up from the armchair. She gave a little squeal of surprise, but her arms wrapped around his neck. Gently settling Liesl on the leather sofa, he sat down beside her. Pulling her close to him with one arm, the fingers on his free hand wrapped around the starched cotton in his pocket. He handed her the clean handkerchief. For a moment or two, she looked at it dumbly through watery eyes, then nodded. "Take your time, sweetheart," he whispered. "We've got all night, so don't rush…"
He placed a hand on Liesl's knee and waited patiently for her to blow her nose and wipe the tears from her eyes. "Somewhere along the line, there's been a horrible misunderstanding," Georg said, without wanting to say too much. He really needed to speak to Elsa first before he explained anything to Liesl. He owed Elsa that much.
"That's what Fraulein Maria said…" Liesl whispered.
"Fraulein Maria…?" his body tightened – an instinctive reaction to the sound of her voice, a glimpse, her lingering scent, the mere mention of her name.
Liesl nodded. "She said it was… probably a misunderstanding."
Georg's heart warmed at the thought of Maria defending him, even when she had every reason not to. "I never told you…" there's so much I haven't told you, "but I promised your mother…"
"Mamma…?" Liesl's eyes widened as she looked up. Father rarely spoke to them about Mamma, even now…
He nodded. "I promised I'd keep you all together," he whispered. With his arm around Liesl's shoulders, he leaned into the soft back of the sofa and pulled his daughter against him. He smiled as she buried her head against his shoulder. Resting his cheek against her hair, he knew he could never send any of the children away. "I promised your mother, I'd never send you to boarding school," he whispered. "It was never an option…" his voice dropped, "it still isn't…"
"I'm glad…" Liesl's fingers tightened their grip on Father's jacket.
"Hmmm…" Georg murmured.
"I hated being upset with you," she whispered, her sentences punctuated by deep gulps of air as she tried to catch her breath. "It reminded me of, you know… before…"
"We're not going back there," Georg stated firmly. "I promise…" he added, his tone softening. "That's all in the past."
Minutes slipped by as they sat in comfortable silence. The only sound was the clock on the mantle and Liesl's sniffles.
"Stay here…?" Liesl looked panicked as Georg went to stand up.
"Don't leave…" her words were choked.
"There's a glass of water on the desk," he squeezed her knee reassuringly. She nodded, then blew her nose noisily. Rising, he walked across the room to retrieve the glass from the corner of his desk. "Sorry…" he shrugged as he dropped back on the sofa beside his daughter. "I already drank half…"
Liesl's mouth was so dry, her throat so claggy, she didn't care. After taking a few sips, she gulped down a mouthful, then another. Passing the near empty glass to her father, she wiped her eyes again with the balled-up handkerchief.
Stretching out his arm, Georg placed the glass beside the cheap whiskey on the side table between the sofa and his armchair. He turned back to Liesl. "I'll speak to the Baroness," he reassured.
"I don't think I can face her, Father," Liesl closed her eyes. "Not after what she said…"
"Liesl, there will be no finishing school," he said firmly, but gently. He watched Liesl nod, but the lines of worry creasing her brow didn't shift. "There's something else…?"
Liesl nodded. "It's not just about that…" Liesl whispered. "Well, not exactly… Oh, I don't know, perhaps it is…"
Georg's heart tightened. He hated seeing Liesl so upset. "Tell me what's happened."
Liesl sucked in a deep breath. "I don't know where to start…"
Georg looked at her with a raised brow. "Let's start…"
"…at the very beginning!" they finished the sentence together.
Georg's eyes widened in surprise, but quickly gave way to a laugh as a faint smile found Liesl for the first time since she'd burst into the study. Maria had left an imprint on them all. "Tell me…" he reached out and placed his arm back around his daughter's shoulders. Pulling her close, he kissed the top of her head.
"You won't be angry…" she asked against his chest.
"Whatever it is, I promise I won't be angry." How could he when she was so upset?
"I was listening in…" she stopped to take a gulp of air.
"During dinner," Georg finished her sentence. "I know, I was there…"
"Not then…" Liesl shook her head against him. "Just now…"
"Now?" He felt her nod this time. "Tell me what you overheard."
Liesl hesitated, but then began slowly. "We were upstairs…"
"We…?" Georg interrupted.
"Me, the boys, the girls, Fraulein Maria…"
Fraulein Maria… his body tightened, while his heart skipped a beat.
"We were upstairs…" she began again, "and I wanted to talk to you… about what Baroness Schraeder said at dinner," Liesl continued, still struggling to talk and breathe. "Fraulein Maria thought I should wait…until tomorrow… but I knew I wouldn't sleep… if I didn't…"
"Well, you're here now," Georg soothed, "so, why don't you tell me what you heard?"
Liesl took a deep breath and pushed herself away from her father, so she could look him in the eye. "I thought you might be in the sitting room… I went there first," she blushed and looked away. "Well, I didn't actually walk in… I just stayed out in the foyer…"
"Who was in the sitting room?" Georg was certain he knew the answer, but hoped a few easy questions early on might help put Liesl at ease.
"Uncle Max and Baroness Schraeder," Liesl answered simply, her eyes finding his again, grateful the room was still in darkness. "I know I shouldn't listen in… I should have let them know I was there," she shook her head. "But I just wasn't ready to talk to anyone… to her…" Wide blue eyes looked at her father, "not yet anyway..."
"So, tell me what was said," Georg picked his words carefully. "What did you hear?"
"You won't be angry?" Liesl asked, swiping at a stray tear as it tickled her cheek.
Georg shook his head. "Of course, I won't be angry…" A wave of guilt washed over him. So many times in the past, he had been angry. They fear you…
"Uncle Max was trying to get Baroness Schraeder…" she paused to breathe, "to tell him her secret…"
"Secret?" Georg snapped, the word sharp and abrupt. He couldn't be sure, after all it was nearly dark in the study, but he sensed Liesl had jumped at his harsh response. He reached out and squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Go on…" he kept hold of her hand, "please…"
"Uncle Max was trying to get her to tell him this secret," Liesl explained, sentences coming a little easier. "It took me a while…" another blush, "but I suddenly realised, they were talking about me."
"You…?"
"The secret was about me," Liesl nodded. "Baroness Schraeder was calling me young lady…"
"Young lady…?" Georg mumbled the words, his body tightening.
"It wasn't said in a kind way…" Liesl bit her lower lip, biting back the tears.
A wave of shame and guilt swept over Georg. Young lady. An awful, patronising name Elsa used when referring to Maria. He should have put an end to it right from the beginning, but he hadn't. He'd been too much of a coward. In the beginning, he didn't want to draw attention to Maria. But then, as time went on, he was desperate to hide his feelings. Perhaps Elsa also referred to Liesl as young lady behind his back. His fingers lifted from Liesl's hand and curled into a fist. "Are you sure the Baroness was talking about you?"
Liesl nodded again, the silver moonlight flickering across her face as the warm evening breeze picked up, sending the curtains fluttering and a different pattern dancing around the room.
"What did she say?" Georg asked, intrigued by Elsa's secret and how it involved his eldest daughter.
"Baroness Schraeder told Uncle Max we'd had a chat," Liesl continued.
"A chat…? Tonight?" Georg frowned. "I thought you said the two of you hadn't spoken after dinner."
"Well, that's just it," Liesl sighed. "Baroness Schraeder has never chatted to me…"
"Never…?"
"Never. Not tonight, not ever," Liesl shook her head firmly. "Of course, she's spoken to me, but we've never sat down and talked." She sighed. "Not properly. Not like I do with Fraulein Maria…"
Georg's body tightened again. It was true, over the summer, Maria hadn't just been a governess to Liesl, she'd been a guiding hand – more so than Elsa. But then, she'd never been just the governess. Not to the children, not to him.
"…why would Baroness Schraeder lie?"
Baroness Schraeder…? Shifting his mind away from Maria, he forced his attention back to Liesl. "Perhaps she was confused," Georg suggested. "Maybe she thought it was a chat, but to you it was nothing more than a short conversation."
"We've never had a chat," Liesl bristled defensively at her father's first sign of betrayal. She'd been worried Father would side with Baroness Schraeder. "I think I'd remember, Father."
"Of course, sweetheart," Georg agreed, reaching up to gently brush away her concerns with the back of his hand. Her cheek was still hot and angry from all the tears, even though minutes had passed since they last fell. "But why all this upset over whether the two of you had a chat, or not? I don't understand…"
"Father, I promise you, Baroness Schraeder has never spoken to me about school, or finishing school, or anything," Liesl stood firm. "But then it was really odd," she looked down. "The Baroness told Uncle Max, I went upstairs to change and she was worried I'd wear something hideous or inappropriate."
"Hideous…?" Georg frowned. "Inappropriate…?"
"Well, she didn't say those exact words to Uncle Max, but that's what she meant," Liesl wiped her eyes with the handkerchief. "She told him, she followed me upstairs and offered to help me change."
"Help to change…?" Georg frowned, watching his daughter nod. "Why would you need…" his words trailed off, a small seed of unease finding the tiniest patch of fertile ground somewhere in the back of his mind. That can't be what they were talking about – it's ridiculous…. He looked away, searching the fireplace, black from summer's long run of warm days and nights. The seed of doubt, now taking hold, was slowly springing to life. Clearing his throat, he turned back to his daughter. "Why would you need help to dress?"
"That's just it," Liesl shrugged. "She's never offered to help me with anything, let alone choosing an outfit," she sighed. "I don't understand why she lied," she shuddered, "and I don't like to think the Baroness has been following me."
Georg shifted uneasily. "What did Uncle Max say?"
"At times, it was a bit hard to hear…"
"Perhaps you're mistaken," Georg clung desperately to that possibility. "They may have been talking about something completely different…"
Liesl shook her head. "I definitely heard her tell Uncle Max, she'd told me to wear the blue dress…"
"Blue dress…?" Georg snapped.
"I know, it makes no sense," Liesl leaned in closer to her father. "I haven't worn blue for ages."
"Blue…?" Georg murmured. What had begun as improbable, the most unlikely possibility fighting for his attention, was now rattling through his head with all the subtlety of a steam train barrelling along at full throttle, whistle blaring. Surely, it can't be true…
In his mind's eye, he was in the foyer. There were people milling and laughing. In the crowd, he was trying to find the staircase, trying to see who had gone upstairs. He was panicked. They'd danced. He'd nearly kissed her. He still wanted to kiss her. She was joining them for dinner. Damn Max! She seemed uncertain, he couldn't look at her, couldn't show his hand. As she turned, his eyes had followed, but she was soon lost in the crowd. He searched the faces, trying to remember who stood around him – the Ebberfelds, Max, Franz, Zeller and his cronies. Where had Elsa been standing? If she were missing, he hadn't even noticed. Had Elsa followed Maria upstairs …? It was a possibility he hadn't even considered. And now, he realised, it could have easily happened…
"…she made fun of me…" Liesl sniffed.
The sound of his daughter's upset brought Georg and his thoughts squarely back to the study. "I'm sure she wouldn't do that…" but then, a minute ago, he would have argued Elsa knew nothing about Maria disappearing on the night of the party. Seeing how upset the children were in the days that followed – if Elsa knew something, why didn't she speak up?
"The Baroness said awful things about me…" Liesl wiped her nose with the damp handkerchief, still balled up in her fist. "She told Uncle Max, I'm not too sharp…"
"Oh, sweetheart…" Georg pulled Liesl against him in a tight embrace. "I'm sure that's not what she meant…"
"It's what she said, Father," Liesl snapped against his chest.
Georg ran his hand soothingly up and down on Liesl's back. "What happened then…" dreading the response, he held his breath, waiting for the answer.
"She laughed – a mean laugh – and said that because I was so stupid, she had to tell me…"
"Tell you…?" Georg bristled, his breathing stopped for a second, then two. "Tell you what?"
"That when I wore the blue dress, he couldn't keep his eyes off me…"
Good God, he'd been caught…
"Couldn't keep his eyes off you…" Georg murmured mechanically, but his mind had already bolted ahead. She'd caught him… He should say something, tell Liesl that Elsa had been talking about Maria. Oh God, Elsa had caught him. This was all his fault. He had to tell Liesl, they weren't talking about her. But how could he tell his daughter? How could he even begin, when he didn't understand any of it himself.
"Father… I have to tell you something…"
Liesl, I have something to tell you… "Sweetheart…"
"No, Father…" Liesl's words cut him off as she sat up straight to face him. The seriousness of her tone matched her solemn look. "Please… I should have told you this earlier…" Liesl whispered. "Much earlier…"
"Tell me what?"
"There was…" her eyes shifted, looking at the black fireplace, the floor, the clock ticking loudly on the mantle – anywhere but Father. She took a deep breath. "There's a boy…"
"A boy?" Georg frowned. Blue dresses, blue eyes, inappropriate looks – it all evaporated in an instant. Every muscle in his body tenses.
"His name was Rolfe," Liesl nodded.
Was…? Past tense. Georg hoped and prayed that meant it was over.
"Nothing happened… not really," she shook her head.
"Not really…?"
"Well, he kissed me," another blush as she looked down at her lap. "But I promise, that was all…"
"Kissed you…?" Georg's fist tightened. "When?"
"Weeks ago…" she whispered, her fingers playing with Father's handkerchief.
"That telegram boy?"
Liesl's head snapped up, blue eyes staring at her father. "How did you…" she began, but then realised. Baroness Schraeder had been following her and told Father. She must have seen them.
"I found him lurking around the grounds and told him to leave," Georg watched his daughter's cheeks turn red.
"You spoke to him?" Liesl's eyes widened.
"It was the afternoon we returned from Vienna," he dropped his head to the side. "You were still out on the lake."
"You've known all that time?" Liesl blushed, watching her father nod. Perhaps that was why Rolfe's deliveries became less and less as the summer wore on. In the past two weeks, telegrams had been delivered by another boy altogether. "Baroness Schraeder must have seen me with Rolfe," she mused, her mind flicking through the stolen moments they'd shared since Father returned from Vienna. Moments that became fewer, until they'd petered out altogether. "Not that we did anything," she added quickly, looking up, another blush sweeping across her cheeks.
"I'm sure they weren't talking about that," Georg was convinced they'd been talking about Maria, and him. "I'm not even sure they were talking about you…"
"But who else…?" Liesl looked at her father.
"I'm not sure," Georg fibbed, pulling his daughter tightly against him. "This boy… Rolfe," he felt Liesl nod against him, "have you seen him recently?"
This time she shook her head. "Not for weeks…" she fibbed, but just a little.
Good! Georg sighed with relief. She'll be a woman one day and you won't even realise… Maybe one day, but just not now. Not tonight. "Promise me you won't worry about Baroness Schraeder?"
Liesl nodded against his chest, more than happy not to face the woman. "You'll speak to her?"
"I'll sort everything out, sweetheart," he whispered against her hair.
"Thank you, Father, I knew…"
But he wasn't listening. His mind had taken him back to that night. It was weeks ago. The first night she wore her blue dress. He could still remember seeing it for the first time. It was dinner. She was late – when was that woman ever on time? He smiled. She raced past him, in a whirlwind of blue and a familiar haze of lavender. By the time she sat down, it was like he'd been hit by a freight train. He couldn't think, couldn't take his eyes off her. It was all he could do to keep breathing. He'd tried to eat dinner, tried to lose himself in Elsa and Max's chitchat. Later, he'd tried to concentrate on the puppet show, on his children, on anything else. But his eyes kept finding her, kept coming back to her. He didn't want to sing – it had been too long, too many memories. He'd managed to deflect the pleas of his children. But he couldn't resist her. He'd told himself he was singing for the children. But in his heart, he knew he was singing for Maria…
Rocking Liesl gently in his arms, he didn't even realise, but he was humming softly.
Edelweiss, edelweiss,
Every morning you greet me…
oOo
"Fraulein Maria…?"
"Yes, Brigitta?"
"Do you think Father will still come on picnics with us?" Brigitta's quilt was pulled up to her chin, but what had started out as cosy, was now feeling a bit too warm.
"Picnics…?" Maria placed the book down on her lap and frowned from the armchair between Gretl and Marta's beds.
Brigitta nodded. "You know, after he marries Baroness Schraeder." She yawned, rolling onto her side, and propped up on an elbow. "She doesn't like him spending time with us."
In the soft light of the bedside lamp, Maria cast an eye over the two small girls. Both fast asleep, she wondered how they could look so peaceful amongst all of the night's chaos.
Closing the storybook with a snap, she stood up and placed it on the seat of the chair. Walking over to Brigitta's bed, she sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress sagging a little under her weight. "I'm sure your father will still spend time with you…" after I'm gone. Her heart caught on the words left unsaid.
"I hope so, Fraulein Maria," Brigitta smiled a sad smile. "Especially, if you're not…" her words petered out, unable to end the sentence. Perhaps if they tried not to think about it, or say it out loud, it wouldn't happen…
"Let's try to spend as much time together as we can," Maria reached out, brushing stray hairs back from Brigitta's face.
"Do you really have to leave?" Brigitta bit her lower lip.
"I'm afraid…"
Both Maria and Brigitta's eyes spun around to the door as it opened with a sudden rush, revealing Louisa in her nightgown.
"Louisa?" Maria's soft voice masked any concern. "What's wrong?"
Striding across the room to Brigitta's bed, Louisa closed the door behind her. "I'm worried about Liesl…" her tone matched the look on her face.
Maria felt her body tighten. "What's happened?" she stood up, ready to do whatever was needed.
"She's been gone for ages…" Louisa shifted from one bare foot to the other.
"Oh…" Maria's body sunk back onto the mattress. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, she guessed it had been less than an hour since Liesl went downstairs. Another fifteen minutes had passed before she sent Louisa and her brothers off to get ready for bed. "I'm sure everything's fine…"
"But what if it isn't?" Louisa hugged herself, gathering in her billowing nightgown. "What if Father's angry, or Baroness Schraeder?"
"Would you like me to go check on her?" Maria asked, the words out before she could stop them.
"Could you?" Louisa and Brigitta spoke as one.
The last thing Maria wanted to do tonight was confront the Captain or, worse still, Baroness Schraeder. But if she had to go downstairs to make sure one of the children were alright, then that's what she'd have to do. "Of course, I'll check on Liesl," she answered with all the confidence and bravado she could muster. Not that it amounted to much.
"Brigitta, why don't you read a little more of your book?" Maria leaned down and kissed the girl's forehead. "I'll come by a little later to turn the light off."
Brigitta nodded.
"Come on, Louisa," Maria placed an arm around Louisa's shoulders. "Let's get you to bed, and I'll go check on Liesl."
Yawning, Brigitta watched Fraulein Maria walk out the door with her arm around Louisa's shoulders. Laying back on the pillow with the book open on her chest, she stared up at the ceiling and sighed. Why can't Baroness Schraeder be the one to leave? Sometimes, life just wasn't fair…
oOo
Closing the study door with a gentle click, he tried his best not to make a sound. Exhausted, Liesl had fallen into a deep sleep in his arms. Laying her gently on the sofa, he'd placed a cushion under her head and one of the throw rugs over her before closing the French doors and drawing the drapes.
In the dark hallway, he stopped to take in a few deep breaths and gather his thoughts. Barely seconds had passed and he was replaying that night again, for what seemed like the hundredth time. He was back in the foyer, surrounded by the buzzing crowd. Max had invited Maria to join them for dinner. Franz had asked his permission. Still embarrassed that Elsa had been in the courtyard and seen Maria in his arms with her own eyes, he'd been dismissive. God, you almost kissed her. Maria had protested about not being suitably dressed, Max had insisted, and he'd just waved his hand in the air, not even looking at her.
He leaned back against the study door. Truth was, he hadn't been brave enough to look at her. She was already perfect, he couldn't see any point in changing. He sighed. Maria had gone – she must have gone upstairs – because when his conversation with the Ebberfelds was rudely interrupted by Zeller, she wasn't there. He closed his eyes, trying to recall the scene. He couldn't find Elsa in the crowd, either.
His fingers curled into tight, angry fists. So, Elsa had followed Maria upstairs under the pretence of being helpful. Instead, she'd spitefully suggested wearing the blue dress. He ran a hand through his fringe. At least Elsa had been right about one thing. He couldn't take his eyes off Maria when she wore that dress. Or any dress, for that matter.
He wondered how their conversation had ended. What else had Elsa pointed out to Maria? He sighed. Is that why Maria left? It probably didn't matter. Most women were intimidated by Elsa – but Maria was different to most women. He knew firsthand how fearless she was. Still, it was likely Elsa had been the last person to speak to her. He sighed again. Elsa should have said something. Instead, she pretended to be as surprised by Maria's disappearance as anyone.
His fingers flexed against his leg. If Max and Elsa had been whispering and gossiping in the sitting room, they were probably still there. He wasn't sure he was ready to face Elsa, but the sooner he spoke to her, the sooner he could sort out this mess. And he had to speak to Maria tonight, almost as much, if not more, than he needed to speak to Elsa.
Despite everything, a smile tugged at his mouth. He couldn't help thinking Maria had deliberately worn her blue dress tonight, even after everything Elsa had told her the night of the party. He stifled a laugh at Maria's unwavering spirit, her defiance. Perhaps Elsa was expecting it. Is that why she was dressed in that awful red outfit? He shook his head, clueless as to how a woman's mind worked.
Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself off the door and walked silently down the hallway. Entering the foyer, he glanced in the direction of the sitting room, but walked directly toward the staircase. It was late – after ten. The children should be asleep, but he'd check in on them anyway. Even though he should speak to Elsa first, perhaps, part of him hoped to run into Maria.
This mess was all his fault, but he was determined to put things right.
Reaching the top of the stairs, he walked around the upper balcony. There wasn't a sound, not even from the sitting room down below. He turned down the children's wing hallway, slowing his steps. The first door along the hallway belonged to the boy's room and was still ajar. At this late hour, he was surprised to see bright light spilling out into the dimly lit hallway. Standing in the shadows beside the doorframe, he smiled.
"It's your turn…" Friedrich's voice floated out into the hallway.
"Since when do we take turns?" Kurt snapped.
"I turned the light off last night," Friedrich insisted.
"So what?" Kurt asked. "You were last in bed."
"But that's because you always hog the bathroom," Friedrich snapped back.
"Do not…" Kurt responded.
"Do too…"
Georg smiled, realising this could go on for hours, if it hadn't already. Silently reaching inside the doorframe, his fingers found the switch, and he flicked the light off. Instantly, there was silence from inside the boy's bedroom.
"Fraulein Maria…?" Friedrich called out to the doorway.
"Afraid not…" Georg stepped through the door into the darkness of the bedroom.
"Father!" both boys exclaimed together.
Closing the door behind him, he walked across the room and dropped on the end of Kurt's bed. "Do you boys ever agree on anything?"
"We agree we don't like…" Kurt began but suddenly stopped when he looked across to his brother and saw his look in the light from the lamp.
Friedrich smiled at his father. "We don't like turning off the light."
"Oh-ho, I can tell!" Georg smiled, wondering for a moment or two what Kurt had been about to say. He could only imagine.
"We're supposed to take it in turns…" Friedrich explained.
"It's always been the last in bed," Kurt cut off his brother.
"It's your turn, so stop whining!" Friedrich snapped.
"I'm not whining…" Kurt shot back.
"Alright, alright…" Georg rolled his eyes at the boys while biting back a smile. They reminded him so much of he and his brother at their age. They would argue about nothing for hours. "It's way past your bedtime," he stood up, "so, why don't I turn off the lamp and then the two of you can get some sleep?"
Both boys nodded as they settled back against their pillows.
Georg leaned down and kissed Friedrich on the forehead. He wondered for a moment if he was getting too old to be kissed by his father, but he told himself, they were making up for the years he'd missed.
"Goodnight, Father," Friedrich smiled back from beneath the quilt.
Georg leaned down and kissed Kurt on the forehead, then ruffled his hair for good measure.
"Father!" Kurt protested with a giggle.
"Goodnight, boys…" Georg reached across to turn off the lamp.
"Father?"
"Yes, Friedrich…" turning to his eldest son, Georg left the lamp on.
"You were right…" Friedrich propped himself up on both elbows.
"Hmmm… right about what?" Georg sat back down on the edge of Kurt's bed.
"Don't be angry…" Friedrich paused to take a deep breath and muster up some much-needed courage. "We didn't go berry picking this afternoon."
Georg raised a brow. "So, what did you do?"
"We did go to town, just like you said at dinner," Friedrich could feel his cheeks growing warm.
Kurt sat up. "We went to see Fraulein Maria..."
"Fraulein Maria…?" Georg's heart tightened as both boys nodded. "Did you see her?" Is that why she returned?
This time, the boys shook their heads.
"We spoke to one of the sisters, but she wouldn't let us see Fraulein Maria," Friedrich explained.
Georg's fingers drummed his knee. "Why didn't you tell me this from the start?"
"We thought you'd be boiling mad," Friedrich answered sheepishly.
They love you; they fear you.
"I don't like being lied to, especially by my children," Georg tried to sound serious. "But I'm pleased you've decided to tell the truth."
The boys nodded.
"Does Fraulein Maria have to leave, Father?" Friedrich asked.
"Yes, can't she stay?" Kurt chimed in.
"I'm not sure," Georg answered truthfully. "We'll have to see."
"Oh…" both boys' faces fell.
"Now boys, it's way past your bedtime," Georg stood up. "We'll have to see what tomorrow brings."
"That's what Fraulein Maria said," Friedrich muttered as he lay back down.
Georg smiled, watching Kurt settle under his quilt.
"Father?" the boy looked at him with a frown.
"Yes, Kurt…"
"Why is your tie and shirt all creased?" Kurt asked.
"What…?" Georg looked down at his chest with a frown. He hadn't realised, but Kurt was right. His tie, shirt and jacket were horribly creased. Running his hand down his front, everything was still damp from Liesl's tears. "Oh, I spilled a glass of water," he fibbed, "your old man's getting clumsy." He smiled as the boy laughed along with him.
Reaching for the lamp a second time, he switched it off, and turned toward the door. "Goodnight, Father…" both boys called out as he felt his fingers wrap around the door handle. Letting himself out into the hallway, he closed the door behind him and cast his eyes down at his tie and shirt. If Kurt noticed, he'd get a grilling from Louisa and Brigitta.
He sighed, realising he had no choice, but to go and change.
oOo
Elsa took the silver cigarette case from the pocket of her bolero jacket and placed it on the dresser. Looking in the mirror, her eyes drifted to a stubborn lock above her right ear. Licking the tip of her forefinger, she dabbed her temple, trying to flatten it down.
Sitting down at the dresser, she opened the top drawer to her right and took out a small packet. With a flick of her wrist, she opened the cigarette case and filled it with a neat row of cigarettes. Taking another cigarette from the box she placed it between her lips. Searching one pocket and then the other of her jacket, she cursed, realising her lighter was still downstairs in the sitting room. Scanning the dresser, she searched among the lipsticks, powders and perfumes.
Her eyes fell on another lighter. Snatching it up, she flipped the cover and lifted it to the end of the cigarette. Running her thumb down the wheel, the flint sparked to life. With one, and then a second, puff the cigarette was finally alight. Sitting back in the seat, she closed her eyes, and filled her lungs. Always savouring those first mouthfuls, she rested the smouldering cigarette on the edge of the ashtray.
Studying her reflection, she picked up one of lipsticks. Removing the barrel, she twisted the end, revealing a bright red stick. She ran it around her lips, then pressed them together. Sitting back, she checked her lips looked lush and perfect. Smiling back at herself, she wondered how Georg could ever resist her. Now that their arrangement was official, she was certain he would be less of a gentleman and more like the man whose reputation preceded him. Well, he did have a reputation, but that was before Agathe tied him down.
Picking up her cigarette, she flicked it over the ashtray, grey-white ash falling from its end amid a rising column of smoke. Telling herself she shouldn't waste another minute, she placed the cigarette between her lips and inhaled one more time. Stubbing what remained of the cigarette in the ashtray, she took one last look at her reflection.
She sighed. He was probably saying goodnight to the children, and God knows, that's the last thing she wanted to do. She'd check the study one more time, and if he wasn't there, perhaps he was in the sitting room with Max. She might try there first.
oOo
Georg stood in front of the full-length mirror at the end of the dressing room and smoothed back his hair. He'd changed into another of the many navy-blue suits that hung in a neat row on the racks behind him. He glanced over his shoulder in the reflection, his eyes finding, then shifting from the empty row of shelves and rails that lined one side of the room. He hated this room and its constant reminder of what was missing – who was missing.
Turning back to his reflection, he buttoned the top two buttons of his jacket. No one would notice he'd changed, so there would be no need for explanations. The last thing he wanted to do was compromise Liesl's confidences or make things more difficult for her.
Taking a deep breath, he turned his back on the mirror and walked down the narrow corridor – his rows of clothes to the right and the empty cabinetry to the left.
He'd check on the other children later. God knows, at this hour they'd be fast asleep. He should look in on Liesl, and then it was time to finally put things right.
His hand found his heart, the photograph still with him, despite the change of suit. Wish me luck, my love…
oOo
Stepping off the bottom stair, Maria landed softly on the foyer's parquetry floor. Pausing for a moment, she wondered where everyone was. It was quiet, but then at this hour, there rarely was anyone moving around downstairs. Occasionally, she'd run into the Captain as he was leaving the study, or their paths might cross in the kitchen, both after a cup of tea and, in the Captain's case, a thick slice of Frau Muntz's bread with jam.
Deciding Liesl would have found her father in the study, she silently made her way across the foyer. Usually, all the lights would be on, but now that it was well after ten o'clock, the only light came from the lamps dotted around on the side tables. Turning down the hallway toward the study, it was even darker. Pushing back her shoulders and telling herself she could do this, she could face the Captain, and the Baroness too for that matter, she reached for the door handle and pushed it open without pausing.
Standing in the doorway, she looked around. Or she tried to. The room was dark. The drapes had been drawn across the French doors, and there was only scant light from the foyer, which was almost nothing. Turning to the door frame, she ran her fingers over the wall until they found the light switch. Flicking on the light, she glanced around the room. It seemed just as empty as it had in the pitch black.
Not sure what to do next, she closed the door behind her and began walking across to one of the two visitor chairs placed in front of the large oak desk. Dropping into her usual chair, she wondered what she should…
"Is that you, Father…?"
Jumping up from her chair, Maria turned to face the fireplace. "Liesl…?" she took a few steps toward the sofa that faced away from the desk, toward the fireplace.
"Fraulein Maria…?" Liesl's head popped up from the sofa. Rubbing her eyes, she'd never been so relieved to see Fraulein Maria. Well, perhaps she'd been more relieved a few hours ago, when she appeared from nowhere along the path beside the lake.
"What are …?" They both began to ask the same question at the same moment.
Stopping to share a laugh, Maria couldn't help thinking, Liesl looked as relieved as she was feeling, despite it being obvious the poor girl had been crying.
"Louisa was worried – well, we all were," Maria was already walking around the sofa.
Although her head was aching from all the tears and her neck was stiff from sleeping on the sofa, Liesl was on her feet to meet Fraulein Maria in front of the fireplace. "Thank you…" she whispered, letting herself be swept into the arms of her governess. A governess she hadn't wanted, but one she needed. They all did, even Father.
"Did you speak to your father?" Maria asked against Liesl's hair, smiling when she nodded against her. "Good." Moments turned into seconds, as Maria held the girl in a tight embrace. "Do you feel better?" Another nod against her shoulder.
"He wasn't angry…" Liesl whispered. "I thought he might be…"
"Oh, Liesl!" Maria scolded her gently. "Your father is so proud of you; he has no reason to be…"
Maria's words stopped suddenly at the sound of the study door being opened. Letting go of Liesl, she spun around to face whoever it was, waiting for them to appear in the doorway.
Maria swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. "Oh, hallo…" forcing a smile, Maria tried her best to sound bright and cheery.
oOo
Oh, wow - this chapter was not meant to be that long! I guess that's what happens when the characters wander off and do their own thing…
Thank you everyone for continuing to read my story.
I don't own TSOM, still having a lend.
"Immerse your soul in love"