Winter's End (6 page)

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 propped 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?”

“To see if everything’s in order, I imagine.
Checking up to make sure his lunatics are as crazy as ever. Wait a minute! Something seems to be happening down there. Your turn to have a look, and remember everything you see!”

Helen took up her observation post again. The men and women down below had risen to their feet to applaud the energetic entrance of a powerful man with a red beard, in a sheepskin-lined jacket so worn that it was shiny at the elbows. He certainly hadn’t gone to the trouble of putting on evening dress, and his muddy boots could have done with a good polishing. Two men, apparently under his orders, followed close behind him. He made straight for the platform, sat down on a chair, which disappeared under his large posterior, and didn’t even take off his jacket. Evidently he didn’t intend to stay long. With a gesture, he invited the Tank and a man who must be headmaster of the boys’ school to come and sit on either side of him. The Tank was preening like a fat goose as she joined him on the platform. The headmaster, with a flower in his button hole, looked equally proud. The newcomer’s two henchmen stationed themselves at the door and never moved from the spot.

“Ladies and gentleman, my dear colleagues . . .” There was total silence as Van Vlyck addressed them. His blazing eyes swept over the audience. “My dear colleagues, here we are again. As you know, I really enjoy these nocturnal meetings. They give us all a chance to get together every year, and . . .”

“Can you hear all right?” asked Helen, who was in the best position.

“Not great,” Milos admitted.

“Come on, if we shove up a bit . . .” She moved a little way until they were lying side by side, almost cheek to cheek. “Better?” whispered Helen.

“Perfect,” Milos replied.

“As tradition demands,” Van Vlyck went on, “we’ll begin by reviewing the months that have passed since my last visit. Let’s start with the girls’ school. It is my pleasure to convey the congratulations of the Phalange to the headmistress for the firm and rigorous hand with which she runs the establishment. She is confirmed in her post.”

The Tank murmured bashful thanks, but Van Vlyck gave her no time to luxuriate in these compliments.

“Congratulations also to the supervisory staff, in particular Miss Zesch and Miss Merlute, for their conscientious devotion to duty. Congratulations to Miss Mersch, the mathematics teacher, whose exemplary commitment . . .”

As these commendations were handed out, heads turned to those who were fortunate enough to have earned them and were practically swooning with self-satisfaction. Other staff members tried to smile, but jealousy distorted their faces. The Skeleton in particular tightened her lips and craned her scrawny chickenlike neck.

After dealing with the girls’ boarding school, Van Vlyck went on to take stock of the boys’ school just
as rapidly and with the same indifference. Then he suddenly raised his voice.

“We are fighting a hard battle, my dear colleagues. A battle that calls for perseverance and determination. I want you all to know that you are supported in your efforts by the Phalange, which I have the honor of representing here. But I also want you to know that the slightest weakness on your part will be severely punished. For instance, as I am sure you are well aware, we regard allowing letters to pass into or out of the schools as a major misdemeanor . . .”

At the back of the hall, the Skunk made a face and kept his eyes on the toes of his shoes for the rest of the speech.

“Let me repeat this,” continued Van Vlyck. “If you ever doubt yourselves, if at any time you find yourselves beginning to feel some compassion for one of your charges, remember: these people are not like us!”