Fine things (21 page)

Chapter 24

His father had to go back to New York, but his mother stayed for three weeks, and insisted she take the children home with her for a little while when she left. It was almost August by then, and they had nothing else to do. He had to go back to work eventually, and privately Ruth thought it would do him good. They had given up the house in Stinson Beach anyway, so all the children could do was sit in the house with a babysitter while he went to work.

“Besides, you need to get organized, Bernard.” She had been wonderful to him, but he was beginning to snarl at her. He was angry at life and the fate it had dealt to him, and he was looking to take it out on everyone, and she was the nearest target.

“What the hell does that mean?” The children were in bed, and she had just called a cab to take her back to her hotel. She was still staying at the Huntington. She knew he needed some time to himself every day, and so did she. It was a relief to go back to the hotel after the children were in bed every night. But he was eyeing her angrily now. He was spoiling for a fight and she didn't want to get into it with him.

“You want to know what it means? I think you should get out of this house and move. This might be a good time to come back to New York, and if you can't arrange that yet, then at least get out of here. It's too full of memories for all of you. Jane stands in her mother's closet every day, sniffing her perfume. Everytime you open a drawer there's a hat or a purse or a wig. You can't do that to yourself. Get out of here.”

“We're not going anywhere.” He looked like he was going to stamp his foot but his mother was not kidding.

“You're a fool, Bernard. You're torturing them. And yourself.” They were trying to hang on to Liz, and they couldn't.

“That's ridiculous. This is our house, and we're not going anywhere.”

“All you do is rent it, what's so wonderful about this house?” The wonderful thing was that Liz had lived there and he wasn't ready to give that up yet. No matter what anyone said, or how unhealthy it was. He didn't want her things touched, her sewing machine moved. Her cooking pots were staying right where they were. Tracy had gone through the same thing, she had explained to Ruth a few days before when she'd stopped by. It took her two years to give away her husband's clothes, but Ruth was upset about it. It wasn't good for any of them. And she was right. But Bernie wasn't about to give in to her. “At least let me take the children to New York for a few weeks. Until school starts for Jane.”

“I'll think about that.” And he did, and he let them go. They left at the end of the week, still looking shell-shocked, and he worked every night until nine and ten o'clock, and then he would go home to sit in a chair in the living room, staring into space, thinking about her, and only answering the phone on the fourteenth ring when his mother called.

“You have to find a babysitter for them, Bernard.” His mother wanted to reorganize his life and he wanted her to leave him alone. If he had been a drinker, he would have been an alcoholic by then, but he didn't even do that, he just sat there, doing nothing, numb, and only climbing into bed at three in the morning. He hated their bed now because she wasn't in it. He barely made it to the office every day, and then he sat there too. He was in shock. Tracy recognized the signs before anyone else did, but there was very little one could do for him. She told him to call whenever he wanted to, but she never heard from him. She reminded him too much of Liz. And now he stood in the closet, as Jane had, smelling her perfume.

“I'll take care of the children myself.” He kept telling his mother that, and she kept telling him he was crazy.

“Are you planning to give up your job?” She was sarcastic with him, hoping to shake him a little bit. It was dangerous letting him sit this way, but his father thought he'd be all right sooner or later. He was more worried about Jane, who had nightmares all the time, and had lost five pounds in three weeks. In California, Bernie had lost twelve. Only Alexander was doing well, although he wore a puzzled look when someone said Liz' name, as though wondering where she was and when she was coming back again. There was no answer to his “Mom …Momm …Momms” now.

“I don't have to give up my job to take care of the kids, Mom.” He was being unreasonable and enjoying it.

“Oh? You're going to take Alexander to the office with you then?”

He had forgotten about that. He'd been thinking about Jane. “I can use the same woman Liz used when she taught school last year.” And Tracy would help him.

“And you'll cook dinner every night, and make the beds, and vacuum? Don't be ridiculous, Bernard. You need help. There's no shame in that. You have to hire someone. You want me to come out and interview for you when the children come home?”

“No, no.” He sounded annoyed again. “I'll take care of it.” He was angry all the time. Angry at everyone, and sometimes even at Liz, for deserting him. It wasn't fair. She had promised him everything. She had done everything for him. For all of them. She cooked, she baked, she sewed, she loved them all so well, she had even taught school right up till the end. How does one replace a woman like that with a maid or an au pair? He hated the idea, as he called the agencies the next day, and explained what he needed.

“You're divorced?” A woman with a brassy voice inquired. Seven rooms, no pets, two children, no wife.

“No. I'm not.” I'm a kidnapper, and I need help with two kids. Shit. “The children have …” He had been about to say “no mother,” but what a terrible thing to say about Liz. “I'm alone. That's all. I have two children. Sixteen months old, and almost nine. Nine years that is. A boy and a girl. The nine-year-old goes to school.”

“Obviously. Live-in or live-out?”

“Live-out. She's too young for boarding school.”

“Not the child. The nurse.”

“Oh … I don't know … I hadn't thought about it. I suppose she could come in around eight o'clock and then leave after dinner at night.”

“Do you have room for an au pair?” He thought about it. She could sleep in the baby's room, if she didn't mind.

“I suppose I could.”

“We'll do our best.” But their best was not very good. They sent a handful of candidates to Wolffs and Bernie was horrified at the caliber of people they were sending out. Most of them had never taken care of children before, or were in the country illegally, or really didn't give a damn. They were a mess, and some of them weren't even nice. He finally settled on a very unattractive Norwegian girl. She had six brothers and sisters, she looked solid, and she said she wanted to stay in the country for a year or more. She said she could cook, and she went to the airport with him when the children came home. Jane didn't look enthused, and Alexander looked at her curiously and then smiled and clapped his hands, but she let him run loose in the airport as Bernie attempted to find their bags, and set up the stroller for him. He was halfway out the door by himself when Jane brought him back with an angry look at the girl, and Bernie snapped at her.

“Keep an eye on him, Anna, will you please?”

“Sure.” She was smiling at a boy with a knapsack and long blond hair as Jane whispered to Bernie.

“Where'd you find her?”

“Never mind. At least we'll eat.” And then he smiled down at her. She had thrown herself into his arms when they arrived, squeezing Alexander between them as he roared with delight and Bernie had thrown him into the air, and then done the same to Jane. “I sure missed you guys.” He knew about the nightmares from Ruth. They were all about Liz. “You especially.”

“Me too.” She still looked sad. But so did he. “Grandma was so nice to me.”

“She loves you a lot.” They smiled and he found a porter to help with the bags, and a few minutes later everything was in the car and they drove off toward the city. Jane sat in the front seat next to him. And Alexander and the au pair sat in the back. She had worn jeans and a purple shirt, and she had long, shaggy blond hair, and Jane didn't seem very impressed with her as they chatted on the way in. She seemed to answer mostly in monosyllables and grunts, and wasn't very interested in making friends with the kids. And when they got home, the dinner she made for them consisted of breakfast cereal and undercooked French toast. In desperation, Bernie sent out for a pizza, which the au pair dove into before they did. And then suddenly Jane glared at her. “Where did you get that blouse?” Jane was staring at her as though she had seen a ghost.

“What? This?” Her face got red. She had changed from a purple blouse to a pretty green silk one, which now had perspiration marks under the arms that hadn't been there before. “I found this in the closet in there.” She waved toward Bernie's room, and his eyes grew as wide as Jane's. She was wearing Liz' blouse.

“Don't ever do that again.” He spoke through clenched teeth and she shrugged.

“What difference does it make? She's not coming back anyway.” Jane got up and left the table and Bernie followed her and apologized.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart. I thought she was nicer than that when I interviewed her. She looked clean and young and I thought it would be more fun for you than some old bat.” She smiled unhappily at him. Life was so difficult for them now. And this was only her first night home. But nothing was ever going to be easy for her again. Instinctively, she knew that.

“Shall we give her a try for a few days, and if we don't like her, boot her out?” Jane nodded at him, relieved that nothing was being forced on her. Forever. It was difficult for all of them. And Anna drove them nuts in the next few days. She continued to borrow Liz' clothes, and even Bernie's sometimes. She turned up in some of his favorite cashmere sweaters, and once even borrowed his socks. She never washed, the house smelled terrible, and when Jane came home from school in the afternoon, she found Alexander with dirty pants, running around the house in drooping diapers and an undershirt, with dirty feet and lunch all over his face, while Anna talked to her boyfriend on the phone, or listened to rock on the stereo. The food was inedible, the house despicable, and Jane was taking care of Alexander almost full-time herself. She bathed him when she got home from school, and dressed him up before Bernie got home, she fed him and put him to bed at night, and went in to him when he cried. Anna never even woke up. The laundry wasn't done, the beds weren't changed, the children's clothes weren't washed. Anna drove them crazy, and in less than ten days they kicked her out. Bernie announced it to her on a Saturday night, as the steaks burned in a large filthy cooking pot, and she sat on the kitchen floor talking on the phone, and she had left Alexander alone in the tub. Jane found him there, slippery as a fish, attempting to climb over the side, and she rescued him, but he could have drowned, which terrified everyone except Anna. Bernie told her to pack her things and leave, and she did, with barely an apology, and wearing Bernie's favorite red cashmere sweater.

“So much for that.” He put the pot full of burnt steaks into the sink and ran hot water over them. “Can I interest you in a pizza tonight?” They had been eating pizza a lot, and they decided to invite Tracy to join them.

When she arrived, she helped Jane put the baby to bed. They all cleaned up the kitchen together. It was almost like the old days, except that someone very important was missing and they all felt it. And to make matters worse, she told them she was moving to Philadelphia. Jane looked stricken. It was like losing her second mother, and she was depressed for weeks after they saw her off at the airport.

And the next nurse didn't help. She was Swiss and had been trained as a baby nurse, which sounded perfect to him in the interview, but what she didn't say was that she must have been trained in the German army. She was rigid and inflexible and unkind. The house was immaculate, the dinners were small, the rules were ironclad and plentiful, and she slapped Alexander all the time. The poor child cried constantly and Jane hated to come home from school and find her there. Milk and cookies were not allowed, nor were treats of any kind, and they were not to speak at meals, except if their father was there. Television was a sin, music was a crime against God. Bernie decided that the woman was half crazy, and when Jane laughed at her inadvertently on a Saturday afternoon two weeks after she'd come, she walked across the room and slapped Jane hard across the face. Jane was so stunned she didn't even cry at first, but Bernie was trembling when he stood up and pointed at her. “Get out of this house, Miss Strauss.
Immediately!”
He took the baby from her, put an arm around Jane to comfort her, and an hour later, with an enormous bang, the front door slammed behind her.

And it was discouraging after that. He felt as though he had interviewed everyone in town, and he wouldn't have trusted any of them. The first thing he did was get a cleaning lady, but even that didn't help. His big problem was Alexander and Jane. He wanted someone to take care of them properly. They were beginning to look unhappy and bedraggled to him, and he was desperate to find someone to help him. He was beside himself as he ran home from work every day to take care of Alex and Jane. He had a daytime sitter temporarily, who could only stay until five o'clock. And his mother was right. It was difficult working all day, and then taking care of the children and the house and the laundry and the groceries and the cooking and the ironing and the backyard all night.

Their luck changed six weeks after school began. The agency called him again and he listened to the usual tale. Mary Poppins had turned up and she was waiting for him. According to the agency, she was perfect for the job.

“Mrs. Pippin is perfect for you, Mr. Fine.” He looked bored as he jotted down her name. “She's sixty years old, British, and was ten years in her last job, with two children, a boy and a girl. And”—the woman at the agency sounded victorious—“there was no mother.”

“Is that something to be particularly proud of?” It was none of their goddamn business.

“It just means that she is acquainted with this kind of situation.”

“Wonderful. What's the hitch?”