Gretel and the Dark (3 page)

‘Lilie,’ echoed Benjamin, savouring the word. ‘Lilie. And has Lilie recovered since this morning? How is her mental state?’

‘Never mind that,’ said Gudrun. ‘What about this soup?’

Josef stood. ‘I’ll take it up now.’

‘Let me go. I’ll get her eating, see if I don’t,’ Gudrun promised.

‘No,’ insisted Josef. ‘Since she took water only from me, I should feed her.’ He was immediately oppressed by a sense of déjà vu, and a tiny frisson of something akin to fear ran the length of his spine. This was history repeating itself. He remembered long passages when Bertha had accepted food only when he extended the spoon. Perhaps it might be better … then he remembered Mathilde’s offensive accusations and turned his back on good sense. ‘I will feed her,’ he said, more firmly this time.

‘Then I shall carry the tray,’ Gudrun said, just as firmly, fixing him with her eye. ‘You shouldn’t go alone.’

Josef’s mouth tightened. For a moment the voices of his wife and Gudrun seemed to fuse into one. ‘The young woman needs no protection from me.’ He avoided looking at Benjamin.

‘It’s your reputation I’m thinking of,
Herr Doktor
. What with the mistress away.’

They trudged upstairs, both breathing heavily, both oppressed by their age. On reaching the guest-room door, Josef knocked out of courtesy, but Gudrun shoved past him, balancing the tray on one generously padded hip. Lilie was exactly as they’d left her, sitting bolt upright in the chair and staring straight ahead. Her eyes were wide open. Dull. Blank. The only difference Josef could find was that her left hand lay loosely cupped in her lap.

‘Some water first.’ He held the glass to Lilie’s lips. Meeting no response, he pushed a small spoonful of water between them. It spilled from the corners of her mouth, trickled down the sides of her neck, fingered under the plum-coloured fabric and continued stealthily downwards. Josef looked away. Gudrun had dressed the girl in out-grown family garments. Dark shades didn’t suit the girl’s pale complexion; some other arrangements would have to be made. After a moment he refilled the spoon.

‘This time drink it,’ commanded Gudrun. ‘Hurry up, the soup’s getting cold.’

‘Shouting won’t achieve anything.’

‘How’s it going to look if she starves to death,
Herr Doktor
? What then?’ Gudrun leaned closer. ‘No good sitting there, mooning over whatever happened, my girl. Chances are you brought it on yourself anyway. What’s done is done. Get up and get on with life, that’s what I say.’

‘Enough,’ said Josef. ‘From now on, please remain silent at all times in Lilie’s presence.’

‘Very well.’ The direct order didn’t stop Gudrun tapping Lilie sharply on the back of the neck as she passed. It can’t have hurt, but Lilie responded immediately with an audible intake of breath, jerking her head vigorously to one side and wriggling
her shoulders. A soft pink, the colour of wild-rose petals, crept up her cheeks. Her eyes brightened. She blinked and focused, not on Josef, who sat opposite her, but on an area somewhere above his left shoulder.

‘
Vous êtes qui?
’ Lilie’s voice was low, melodic, totally pleasing to Josef. He stared back, transfixed by her irises, which were a curiously intense blue-green, almost turquoise, with a ring of amber flecks around the pupil. Now that her face was animated, he realized Lilie was possessed of a rare beauty, her features perfectly symmetrical and in proportion. A hazy recollection of some painting hovered on the precipice edge of memory. He struggled to remember the artist. ‘
Vous êtes qui?
’ she repeated, and still receiving no answer: ‘
És ön? Cine esti tu? Kim?
’ Her voice rose a fraction. ‘
Kim pan jest? Kdo ar tebe? Wer sind Sie?
Who are you?’ Her lips continued to move but Josef was unable to pick out any words.

‘Forgive me,
Fräulein
. My name is Josef Breuer. I am a physician –’

‘Josef Robert Breuer,’ said Lilie, looking directly at him for the first time. ‘Born Vienna, January 15th 1842, graduated from the Akademisches Gymnasium in 1858 –’

‘That is correct,’ said Josef, a little startled. ‘And what is your name?’

‘I have no name.’ Lilie turned her left arm so the wrist faced him. ‘Just my number.’

‘Number?’ snorted Gudrun. ‘How much more of this nonsense –?’ Josef shot her a warning look before turning his attention back to the girl.

‘Everyone has a name,
Fräulein
. It is what distinguishes one human being from another.’

‘Why do you assume I’m human?’ Lilie inspected her cupped
hand and slowly opened her fingers, revealing a white butterfly, its blotched wings ragged but otherwise undamaged for it immediately fluttered away, joining several others dancing aimless figures-of-eight against the ceiling. ‘So many,’ she murmured. ‘Thousands, millions, one for every stolen soul. Already there are too many to count.’

‘Ah, yes,’ agreed Josef, ‘the butterfly has long been associated with the human soul. In Greek myth –’

Lilie closed her hand. ‘Not butterflies. They’re flowers.’

Josef glanced at Gudrun. Tight-mouthed and resentful, she sat down, pleating the hem of her apron between her fingers. He cleared his throat and steered the conversation back to the girl’s feeling of exclusion from the human race. He smiled. ‘I see no reason not to assume you’re human.’

‘I am not part of the human race. First I was an idea. Then I came into being charged with a very important task.’

Josef nodded, but made no comment. ‘And were you born here in Vienna? No? Then can you remember where you spent your childhood?’

‘I wasn’t born. I was created just like this.’

‘As were we all,’ agreed Josef. ‘The creator of the universe –’

‘Do you think I’m an angel?’ asked Lilie, staring straight in front of her. ‘No. I’m not that either. I’m sure you’ve heard of Olimpia –’

‘Ernst Hoffman,’ murmured Josef, nodding sagely. ‘She was the beautiful automaton in his short story “
Der Sandmann
”. Of course, but –’

‘She could only say “Ah, ah.” Think of me as being more like that, but much cleverer. A machine made in the image of an adult human female.’

‘I see.’ Josef cleared his throat. ‘Made.’

‘Half baked, if you ask me,’ muttered Gudrun, flicking away imaginary dust.

‘Very well,’ said Josef, pointedly raising one shoulder against Gudrun’s interruption. ‘Since you have no name, I shall call you Lilie.’ He waited for an objection, but none came, though her lips moved. ‘Now, Lilie, tell us about your task.’

Lilie turned the full blue-green of her gaze on him. ‘I’ve come to find the monster.’

‘Ah. And this monster – is it in Vienna?’

‘No,’ said Lilie, ‘but he’s coming. Look.’ She opened her hand, and to Josef’s amazement another of the curiously marked butterflies hung poised for a moment, its black markings reminiscent of the empty eye cavities of the skull, before spiralling up to join the endless dance above their heads.

‘Where –’

‘This soup will be stone cold in a minute,’ said Gudrun, and rattled the spoon against the bowl. ‘Eat. That’s what we’re up here for.’

Josef snatched it from her hand and held it out to the girl. ‘Will you eat something,
Fräulein
?’

Lilie glanced at the soup and wrinkled her nose in what might have been distaste. ‘Machines don’t need to eat.’

‘There’s plenty in Vienna would be glad of that soup, let me tell you,’ huffed Gudrun, taking the gesture personally. ‘I’ll give you turning your nose up at good food. Just who do you think you are?’

‘Silence, Frau Gschtaltner!’ roared Josef. ‘Not another word.’

‘Huh,’ said Gudrun, and folded her arms over her chest.

Once again, Josef thrust forward the spoon, handle first, willing Lilie to take it. ‘Come, Lilie, eat just a little.’ He didn’t want to repeat history by feeding her, but since she continued
to stare at the opposite wall, supposed there was nothing else for it. By now the girl must be hungry. He stirred the soup and took a small spoonful, carefully avoiding the congealing fat. ‘Open your mouth, Lilie.’ It was a very pretty mouth, the lips well-shaped and generous, so full of promise that Josef could almost imagine how it might feel to sate his own hunger there. His heart lurched. The spoon juddered violently, spilling most of the liquid. ‘Open your mouth immediately, Lilie,’ he said, more forcefully than he’d intended. ‘You must eat.’

It emerged as an order. And perhaps this was the way it would work for Lilie immediately obeyed. The thought both alarmed and exhilarated Josef. He could hardly bear to watch the shallow bowl of the spoon pressing down on her lower lip as he fed her. Occasionally the pink tip of her tongue emerged to lick away a glistening trail of soup droplets. Twice Lilie turned her head away, but the insistent spoon pursued her. Josef stopped only when he observed that she was holding the liquid in her mouth rather than swallowing it.

‘Good.’ He surreptitiously ran his fingers beneath his damp collar. ‘Rest now, Lilie. We will talk again later.’

Outside the door Gudrun eyed him severely.

‘You should have let me deal with her. Start pandering to her nonsense and there’ll be no end to this foolishness.’

‘The poor child will recover soon enough.’

‘No fool like an old fool,’ said Gudrun, taking the tray.

Josef flinched. Had he made himself so obvious? Then it occurred to him that Gudrun would never have dared to speak to him with such disrespect if Mathilde had been here.

‘Send Benjamin to me.’ He omitted the courtesy that would have softened the command to a request. Not that it redressed the balance. ‘And prepare something more substantial for the
girl’s evening meal. Cold meat, fruit, cheese – anything she can pick up with her fingers.’ He couldn’t go through all that again.

‘And will you be in there talking to her later?’ Gudrun flushed crimson before Josef’s glare, but she didn’t drop her eyes. ‘If so, I should accompany you.’

‘Send Benjamin to me,’ he repeated, without answering.

The boy couldn’t have been far away. Josef had barely settled himself before he heard the heavy clump of work boots along the passage from the kitchen stairs. And, newly cleaned or not, that was something else Mathilde wouldn’t have tolerated. He opened the door before there was time for Benjamin to forget about knocking.

‘What have you found out, Benjamin? Any talk of young women going missing?’

Benjamin shook his head. ‘Nothing. Well, nothing apart from the Grossmanns’ scullery maid. She ran off ten days ago. Their cook reckons she got homesick and went back to her father’s farm. Couldn’t be Lilie, though.’ He looked at his hands. ‘Hedda is much older, and ugly as sin, with a backside the size of a tram. Nothing else. Couple of whores found dead in Spittelberg.’

‘You’d better keep trying,’ said Josef, after a moment’s thought. ‘Someone must know something. She didn’t fall out of the air. For the reasons we discussed, I don’t want to involve outsiders unless it’s absolutely necessary.’ He carefully lined up his pens. ‘So far, Lilie hasn’t said anything sensible about her family background.’

‘A girl like Lilie, you’d think there’d be people out looking for her.’

‘I don’t believe she’s from Vienna.’ Josef replayed her few short answers in his head. There’d been traces of a strange
accent. He couldn’t place it. ‘Of course, she may have been brought here, perhaps against her will.’ He leaned forward, lowering his voice. ‘That other matter we spoke of …’

‘I’ll try,’ said Benjamin, ‘but it won’t be easy. I can’t just walk in. Fat chance of getting work there – apparently the pay’s so good the servants hang on to their jobs. Anyway, I’ve heard tell they won’t take on young men because of all the girls.’ He hesitated. ‘
Herr Doktor
, it would be a simple matter for you to join the club.’

‘No.’ Josef clenched his fists. ‘Out of the question.’

‘They say many of Vienna’s top men are members.
Herr Doktor
Schmidt,
Herr Professor
Voss –’

‘
No!
’ Josef almost choked on the word. Rumours abounded about what went on beneath the Thélème’s well-polished veneer of respectability. Foreign women … and men … prepared to engage in unnatural acts. Sexual coupling turned into theatre. Orgies: the loosening of Saturn’s restraints as in the ancient temples. Josef swallowed hard. Those who frequented such places were either degenerate, a state surely denoting lack of purpose, or poor, sad creatures having no other recourse to sensual warmth; to be numbered among the latter would be to grind salt into his emotional wounds. He visualized
Frau
Voss with her sharp nose and lipless mouth,
Frau Doktor
Schmidt and her shifty-eyed piety. How would others judge Mathilde if he – No. Besides, a poisonous word dropped here, a venomous nod and wink there … even Mayor Lueger wasn’t immune: Vienna was growing fast, but salacious gossip travelled faster. He would lay himself open to ridicule, to blackmail. All those that he held dear might be exposed to scandal. ‘No,’ he repeated. ‘No, that place is a pit of depravity.’

Benjamin turned scarlet. ‘I only meant to see if Lilie –’

‘It could give certain factions more ammunition than they need.’

‘Nobody need find out.’

Josef looked hard at him. ‘And how did you discover that the doctor and the professor were members?’

‘Well, everyone knows … Oh. Yes. Sorry.’ Benjamin coughed gently. ‘I’ll go back. See what I can find out by hanging around the kitchen door.’ He was silent for a moment before asking diffidently: ‘Is she … is Lilie all right? One minute Gudrun says she’s a thief waiting until we’re off our guard, the next that she’s a raving lunatic, harping on about being made of clockwork or something. Is that true? Is she really mad?’

‘Time will tell,’ Josef said vaguely. ‘If I’m to find out what happened to Lilie, she must be questioned extremely carefully. She may not remember yet. She might be hiding something. In either case she must be induced to confide in me.’

‘Of course,
Herr Doktor
. I understand.’

‘Patience is called for. Such things can’t be rushed.’ In many ways it was akin to seduction. To his horror, Josef found his imagination was still conjuring up voluptuous pictures of what might be happening even now in the Thélème. The writhing images had Lilie’s mouth. Her eyes. Her neck. Those marks on her arm – they were like cattle brands, livestock – an appalling thought. He jumped to his feet and opened the safe, keeping his back to the boy. ‘You’ll need more money, since you’re going back into the coffee houses, Benjamin. The taverns, too, I suppose.’