Authors: Lorna Lee
“Siri, don’t be negative. He’s only shown me fatherly kindness.” Meri grabbed Siri’s hand and squeezed it.
“Let’s hope Monsieur Dorval deserves your trust.”
§
Domestic work was, on the surface, a step backwards for Meri. The privileges she enjoyed as a quasi-professional personal assistant for a wealthy man were gone. While she had assignments each day for Monsieur Nurmi, Meri was relatively free to accomplish her work in the manner she pleased. She also had a great deal of flexibility with her time outside of his direct supervision, time Meri spent with Siri or strolling along the splendid Parisian avenues, wearing fashionable clothes. Her living accommodations had been comfortable and always kept clean by the maid. As a personal assistant, her wages afforded her the ability to both save for the future and spend for the present but as a maid she had to wear a uniform. Her world shriveled from being able to wander the streets of Paris freely to cleaning the rooms of one large home for a fraction of the pay she had received as a personal assistant. Saving money only became possible because she had no social life.
Her days under Madame
Dorval were structured and well-supervised. Meri had very little latitude regarding her time or her activities. Madame wanted tasks done a certain way and in a certain order in her household. Meri had to learn and abide by her rules. Meri’s room was small, one of several that shared a modest washroom and toilet with the other household staff: Zara (the other maid), Philippe (the chef), and Evette (the woman who assisted Phillipe and served the meals). A chauffeur and a groundskeeper, and his staff, lived in another building but ate with the house staff in the kitchen. Meri, like all the staff, wore a uniform, which was inspected by Madame
each morning. The only time Meri left the house while on duty was to walk Soldat, a job she grew to love as much as the dog himself. Her work days began at seven in the morning and ended at seven in the evening, unless the Dorvals hosted an event. In that instance, staff would stay on duty until all the evidence of the event was removed from the residence. Madame
required her home to resemble a museum at all times.
For all of the rigors of working for this German task-master, it was comforting for Meri to know at least she was a woman. Meri didn’t worry about her employer taking sexual liberties with her as part of the job. To Meri, safety from exploitation made sacrifices in her autonomy or wages a good bargain. And Meri had no concerns about Monsieur Dorval. During the rare times he spent at home, his wife controlled him with the same firm grip she used with the rest of the staff.
Under Madame’s watchful eye he wouldn’t dare try anything indiscrete.
Twelve hour days of domestic labor left Meri exhausted. Technically, she could leave the premises after her day ended but had to return by midnight, when the doors were locked and the gates to the estate closed. The same rule applied on Saturday. On Sunday, the curfew changed to ten o’clock. The maids got one weekend day off each week, so Meri and Zara worked opposite days. Then the next weekend, they switched their day off. (Madame insisted at least one maid be available to her at all times.) Meri didn’t know the working conditions of the other staff. Whether they were free or not, however, ultimately depended on the Dorval’s social calendar.
Regardless of days off, Meri was responsible for the rambunctious Soldat. The dog was a gift from Madame’s parents—a substitute for the child their daughter was not destined to bear (according to Zara). Rather than a comfort to Madame, Soldat was a giant, hairy nuisance. He was still an ill-mannered puppy in an enthusiastic, elephantine body. Zara feared him and neither of the Dorvals wanted to deal with such an undignified, albeit handsome, hound. Soldat and Meri forged a close bond. She could trust this big dog not to betray her secrets or judge her. Meri found herself as much in love with Soldat as he seemed to love her.
One day early in her employment, Soldat was yanking Meri to and fro, nearly strangling himself with his collar and tripping Meri with each surge. Meri stopped, planted her feet as best she could, and yelled at him for the first time. “Soldat!
Stoppen! Arrêt!
” Madame
wanted her dog to speak German. Monsieur wanted the dog to speak French. “
Hyvä luoja!
” Meri said aloud in Finnish. “Good Lord!” She continued in Finnish. “The rich, they want a bilingual dog. No wonder you’re confused and jumpy. You don’t understand anything, do you, Soldat?”
The big white dog cocked his head and barked. Then he sat down.
Meri started to laugh.
Soldat went over to her and nuzzled her crotch, something he was good at doing. He sat down close to her and leaned his big, furry, muscular body against her legs. Meri leaned into him so she wouldn’t lose her balance. She ruffled his ears and scratched the long bridge of his nose and the wide area between his eyes. He was nearly as calm as when he slept.
Meri pushed back on him so she could move in front of him without either of them collapsing. She squatted down in front of him. His head was above hers. The one-year-old dog was tall, even when sitting. She cupped his massive head in her hands and spoke to Soldat as if to a Fin.
“How long will Madame tolerate you and your crazy behavior, Soldat?”
Hearing his name, he lunged forward and licked Meri’s face. She fell back; her legs flew out from under her and, unintentionally, kicked the dog. They both let out sounds of surprise. “If I soiled my uniform, I’ll be in trouble.” Meri picked herself up and yanked on the leash. Soldat stood his ground. “Oh, you silly dog. Is big, strong Soldat afraid of little Meri?” She held her hand out and softened her voice. A peace offering in any language.
The dog responded by licking her hand.
“Good boy. Good boy.” She spoke to him in Finnish. “We must come to an understanding, you and me. Our chances of staying in Madame
’s
good graces are best if we behave. You must walk like a civilized dog on the leash and stop running around in the house breaking Madame
’s
things.”
The dog appeared to be listening. After a few moments, he shook himself and tugged on the leash with his teeth—his playful way of communicating he wanted to get moving.
“Not so fast. We’re going to walk my way, not your way.” Meri twisted the leash out of the dog’s mouth. With a firm grip close to his collar, she began training him to walk slowly.
Over several months of daily lessons with her smart but energetic canine student, Meri slowly transformed Soldat from an unruly trouble-maker to a fairly well-behaved dog. Meri only had two problems with Soldat: he would only listen to
her
and he only responded to
Finnish
. She solved the second problem by teaching him the few commands the Dorvals were likely to ask of him in both German and French. The rest she blamed on his stubborn nature. Soldat became her shadow. Listening to her proved problematic only when the Dorvals wanted to take their handsome dog out to show him off to their friends with other expensive or rare breed canines. They did not want to bring their maid along to “handle” him. But after several embarrassing mishaps, they either left him at home or brought Meri along and temporarily “promoted” her to their personal aide, with showing off Soldat as her only real duty.
§
Early in 1932 Meri had settled into a predictable life—not the life she had planned on or the life she wanted, but a “good enough” life. After a year of working for Madame, they
had gotten used to each other. Meri complied with all of Madame’s rules and demands; Madame
conceded her dog to Meri. Madame made housework more difficult because of her exacting expectations and relentless supervision; Meri’s daily time with Soldat gave her respite from the drudgery and constant surveillance.
Free to be with her beautiful, joyful Soldat, they walked and played as much as she could without messing her uniform.
Madame would not approve if anyone in her household was having fun
, Meri thought to herself many times as she brushed her uniform of any wrinkles or paw prints after an outing with Soldat.
Meri often met with Siri on the one weekend day she had to herself. They shared hours together, with Meri always returning to the Dorval estate at regular intervals to attend to Soldat.
“Can’t anyone else take care of that dog?” Siri asked, snapping her handbag closed after paying for lunch.
“I won’t be long, “Meri said. “He only eats for me. No one else can handle him.” Meri smiled.
“Meri, I think you like having that dog obey only you.” Siri searched Meri’s eyes for some denial of her suspicion.
“I can’t help who a dog loves. Especially a mule-headed one.” Meri laughed. “At least one male in all of Paris has fallen under my spell. He’s handsome and funny. He has four legs, not two. But he’s a refreshing change from the men I’ve met so far!”
“I can’t argue with you.” Siri laughed too. “We are both fetching young women in a city full of Parisian men. Some of them have to be gentlemen.”
“So you say.”
“Let’s go out to a nice cabaret tonight, Meri. We can have some fun and even find ourselves some handsome two-legged men.”
“A nice cabaret? Are there such places? Do gentlemen go to these places?” Meri got up to leave.
Siri followed her. “How about the bar of a chic hotel? Surely gentlemen go there.”
“I suppose.”
“Good. We’ll have supper at my apartment. Make sure Soldat is tucked in for the night. Bring your best dress. I have makeup. We’ll show this city the two prettiest Finnish women alive!”
“Hmmm. Every time you arrange something for me, things don’t turn out so well.”
“Not this time, Meri. I’ll be right there with you. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have a real lover—someone who is husband material? You wouldn’t have to be a maid. Or an
old maid
.”
Meri glanced at her hands.
I’m twenty-nine years old, but my hands remind me of Mamma’s hands—old hands.
They were rough and scarred from constant cleaning. Her nails were frayed.
If not now, when?
Meri thought. She glanced at her reflection in the café window. Although thinner from hard work, she still retained her womanly curves. Meri smiled into the vague reflection. She couldn’t see how tired and worn her face had become living in the city of her disappointed dreams. “
If
there’s a man I want for a husband—who will have me for his wife—I’d better get serious about finding him.” Meri said this more to her reflection than to Siri.
§
Meri went to take care of Soldat and to gather her best attire for her evening of husband-hunting. Siri shopped for their supper and waited for Meri.
Together they decided on the Ritz as their destination. If gentlemen were gathering for an evening of proper entertainment, the highest class establishment in Paris was the place for them to attract the kind of attention they both wanted.
Meri reminded Siri of her midnight curfew. They arrived at nine o’clock and sat strategically at a table near the round bar. They both ordered a glass of champagne, hoping it would be the last drink they would have to pay for.
At about nine-thirty, two more glasses of champagne arrived at their table. Siri’s eyes darted back and forth while Meri’s eyebrows furrowed. They looked at each other and then at the waiter. His grin was crooked and thin—
un serveur arrogante
, Meri thought. Then she spoke with authority she didn’t feel, “Monsieur, we didn’t order these. Please take them back.” Meri did not have extra money to spend.
“You misunderstand,
Mademoiselles
. These drinks are compliments of the two men sitting at the bar over there.” He pointed to the other side of the circular bar. Two men raised their champagne glasses as they watched both Siri and Meri stretch their necks to see them. Four nervous smiles wobbled in the smoky air.
Siri took over. “Sir, please tell the gentlemen that we thank them for this kind gesture.” Winking at Meri, she said, “Tell them they’re welcome to join us.”
Meri let out an audible gasp.
The waiter nodded and left. Siri patted Meri’s leg. “It’ll be fine. This is exactly what we hoped for, and we were only here half an hour!”
Meri peeked over at the two men. As the waiter talked to them, they nodded enthusiastically.
“Mon Dieu!
Siri, they’re coming over!” Meri turned her head around as if checking her quickest means of escape.
“Calm down, Meri. It’s just drinks and chatting. Nothing more. These men are
gentlemen
. We’re at the Ritz.”
“Fine.” Meri smoothed the material of her dress around her hips and lap area. She fussed with her hair.
“Stop. You look nervous!” Siri whispered as she adjusted her necklace.
“I
am
nervous,” Meri whispered back as the two men arrived at their table.
“
Bonsoir, Mademoiselles
. May I introduce my brother and myself?” The man who spoke had curly dark hair cropped close to his head and slathered with cream to keep it lying smoothly. His eyes were big and brown, and his skin was rather pale. A large nose and prominent ears, however, dominated his appearance. They seemed to have arrived before he did. His suit was made from rough, cheap wool and the cut was common.
He speaks like a gentleman, but he’s not a rich man.