Ida Brandt (23 page)

“I suppose that is something we shall have to think about. We all know Aline after all, when she is herself.”

There was silence, and the admiral said: “Aye, it’s a dreadful business,” while Mrs Mourier, nodding vehemently, twice, down at her silken breast, said, in the direction of Mrs von Eichbaum, almost by way of a confession:

“I am fond of her.”

And a further torrent of words could be heard coming from Mrs Schleppegrell. “Good heavens, you know perfectly well, Vilhelmine, that I don’t throw stones.”

Karl sat with his head a little on one side and looking over at his mother; there was something resembling a twinkle in his eyes.

When they had risen from table, Mrs Mourier found herself standing by Mrs von Eichbaum.

“You are the same as you always were,” she said, firmly gripping her hand in both of hers.

“Dear Vilhelmine,” said Mrs von Eichbaum: “One simply has to rally round. And if no one else will go, then I will.”

Karl was standing behind his mother and he touched her shoulder with his moustache, almost as though he was caressing her.

“That was a lovely meal,” he said in a quiet voice.

Mrs Schleppegrell also came across: “Emilie,” she said, “I hope you won’t misunderstand. You know perfectly well that if she were to come…”

“Anna, everything of that kind,” said Mrs von Eichbaum, “dies down again provided no one talks about it.”

Karl was in the dining room. He had suddenly found himself in wonderfully high spirits and had performed card tricks for Kate and Miss Fanny. Then he projected the cards on to the table in a double stream.

“Can you do that?” he said.

Kate took the cards and said:

“You are in high spirits today.”

“Yes,” said Karl, looking her straight in the eye while clapping one hand against the other: “because I’m going out with a lady tomorrow.”

The Schleppegrell family went home after leaving Mrs Mourier and Kate at their door. The admiral’s wife walked in front with Fanny. They were discussing Kate.

“Yes, Fanny,” said the admiral’s wife, “but in your place I would
nevertheless
take the opportunity to speak French. The girl has been in Lausanne for two years after all.”

“Schleppegrell,” she said, gathering her skirts about her as she stopped, “the ducks came from Malle Bardenfleth at Vallø.”

Mrs von Eichbaum and Karl had arrived home, and Karl stood in the doorway to the living room.

“You know, Karl,” said Mrs von Eichbaum, “Kate’s a sweet girl, but she seems to me to be just a little restive.”

“I think she’s rather amusing,” said Karl, tugging at his moustache.

“Yes, but she
must
be given a little polish.”

Mrs von Eichbaum made quite a small dismissive gesture with her hand.

“She has quite an idiosyncratic way of sitting down on a chair and so on. But that reminds me of Mourier, with his rather daring ideas.”

Mrs von Eichbaum covered her lace pillow over, saying:

“I suppose little Ida Brandt is not free on Tuesday?”

“No, they are only let out every third week.”

“That is a pity,” said Mrs von Eichbaum.

Karl went.

Mrs von Eichbaum pottered around for some time before putting out the light and going inside. She had obviously forgotten to shut the door between the living room and the sitting room. She had done this more frequently recently.

At home, Mrs Mourier and Kate had enjoyed a snack in their dining room.

“Heaven preserve us, we surely don’t need to go there more than once a month.”

Mrs Mourier made no reply, but Kate said:

“Oh, I suppose he’s the best of them though. You can get to know something from him.”

She was referring to Karl.

Kate gave her mother a goodnight kiss and went to join Victoria.

The following morning a telegram arrived from Mourier to tell them that he had bought Ludvigsbakke. Mrs von Eichbaum, who was going shopping with Vilhelmine, came just as Mrs Mourier and Kate were about to have lunch. She was not otherwise keen on eating in their apartment on account of the dogs.

“You know,” she said to the general’s wife, “one can never eat in peace with those animals around.”

But today she stayed on account of the news.

“Well,” said Kate, “so now it’s been decided. But Engelholm would undoubtedly have been grander.”

Nevertheless, Kate thought they should celebrate the event and she had Victoria fetch a bottle of the burgundy that had been stored in the cellar at home in Aarhus since her baptism.

The three ladies chinked glasses.

“Yes,” said Mrs von Eichbaum: “Congratulations, Vilhelmine, congratulations.”

Kate held her glass out.

“I suppose I shall be given the farm.” She emptied her glass and went on.

“But at least we can have a couple of fillies over here, for the livestock is included.”

“A
couple
, Kate?”

“Yes, I shall have to have someone to ride with me,” said Kate. “I suppose Karl can do that when we get the horses.”

“Yes, if only he had time for it from the office,” said Mrs von Eichbaum.

Kate drank another glass of burgundy, to the arrival of the fillies.

∞∞∞

Monday evening arrived.

The nurses who had been on day duty had their party dresses spread out on their beds. But Ida, who had put candles in the candlesticks in Nurse Helgesen’s room, had a lot to see to and was running up and down. There was always more with which to decorate Nurse Helgesen’s table: plates and vases and three glass bowls and everything came out of the bureau as though from a magician’s hat. There were also the five small lamps, which could be lit among the flowers. Ida brought them down and arranged them.

Nurse Helgesen, who was wearing a grey dress with a matt silk cape, said:

“Thank you, Brandt, thank you, well, in a way I suppose this is a joint effort.”

“It’s simply lovely that we can use them,” said Ida, smiling and doing the arrangement. She needed some flowers now, to be arranged around each pudding dish.

“It’s going to be lovely,” said Ida, taking a step back to view it all. All the old silver shone so beautifully and it was so long since it had last been used.

Nurse Helgesen, out of a desire to set her eyes on something that was hers, extracted the crown-decorated card that had been inserted in the moss and commented:

“This tree from Mr von Eichbaum is quite a rarity.”

Karl von Eichbaum’s “Gloire de Dijon” stood proudly at the centre of the table. Nurse Helgesen had already protected each of the yellow flowers with small white paper trimmings.

“Yes,” said Ida as she examined one of the yellow buds, “it’s beautiful.”

“But what time is it?” she said suddenly. All the nurses’ presents were to be moved from the birthday table over to one end of the dining table. Nurse Helgesen took them across, and Ida arranged them. They formed a whole ring of plants and flowers around Nurse Helgesen’s place.

“Those from Kjær are beautiful,” said Ida.

“Everyone has been so kind,” said Nurse Helgesen, who, as hostess, began to be all flustered and no longer really saw anything, but she said:

“Do you think there will be enough chairs?”

“We’ll bring them down,” said Ida, continuing to arrange things. Nurse Boserup had contributed a bleeding heart, a plant with a rather unpleasant smell that looked as though it had been taken up from a larger flowerbed and put in a pot that very morning.

“We’ll put that on the worktable,” said Ida.

There was a knock on the door, but it was only Nurse Kjær.

“Oh-h, this is fun,” she said, standing at the end of the table. “It looks splendid.”

All the candles were lit, and three lamps shone down on the flowers.

“Yes, don’t you think so?” said Ida, happily shaking her head. “But just watch now,” she said and she lit the small lamps, yellow and red, around the table.

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” said Nurse Kjær again, surveying the silver and the flowers and the puddings. “That’s splendid.”

“Yes,” said Nurse Helgesen: “It’s quite festive. And the room is not too small by any means.”

Ida wanted to go, but there was a knock on the door again. It was a porter with compliments from Dr Quam. Dr Quam had at the last moment felt the need to contribute something and had bought a box of candied plums with a coloured picture of a Spanish dancer on the lid.

“They are princess plums,” said Nurse Kjær, who knew the label. Nurse Helgesen put the fruit on one side.

“It’s so nice of the doctors to show an interest in one.”

Ida was up in her room, where her yellow dress still lay in its large muslin cover. She had just lit the spirit lamp in front of the mirror when there was a knock at the door. It was Nurse Boserup, who really had to “borrow something to have around my neck”.

“Are you waving your hair?” she said suddenly from over in the middle of the floor.

“Well, I was just trying,” said Ida blushing deeply.

Boserup had found a tulle shawl with long fringes in one of Ida’s drawers.

“Are you going to use those two pins?” she said suddenly, pointing to a solitaire that she took and fixed to the shawl while at the same time expressing the opinion that waving only made one’s face look older.

“No, it really looks nice in the light,” said Ida.

“Oh well, if you can be bothered. You wouldn’t catch me doing it. But there’s no accounting for taste. Goodbye, I’ll see you later.”

Ida locked the door; she wanted to be alone now that she was going to put her dress on.

The nurses had arrived downstairs, one after the other, each new arrival being greeted with exclamations at her dress. “Oh, just look at Friis, oh, just look at Friis,” they shouted, and then they fell silent again; no one really knew what to say because they all felt they had to say something more than usual; and yet again they started to talk about the table standing in the middle of the room and looking almost
too
splendid, while Nurse Helgesen kept saying that they should sit down; and the nurses sat along the walls, with their shoes poking out from under their dresses, as though they had never been in this room before.

Only Nurse Friis, sitting in an easy chair a little away from the wall and with her hands crossed on her lap, reviewed it all and stopped at the outdoor plant on the worktable.

“That must be Boserup’s,” she said to Nurse Kjær. “Heavens, it’s like her to limit herself to that sort of price. But the table looks nice.”

“It was Ida who arranged it,” said Nurse Kjær, going around to everyone and saying: “That’s Ida.” She always called her by her Christian name when she was not present.

Ida felt that she became all flushed as she stood outside the door and then opened it and entered and Kjær shouted:

“Miss has been waving her hair.”

All the ladies rose from their seats and Nurse Kjær and Nurse Friis clapped their hands until everyone followed suit, while Ida stood there, blushing in the light, and a whole circle formed around her yellow dress.

“She looks wonderful,” said Nurse Kjær, breaking out of the circle and embracing Ida as though she wanted to crush her.

Things had become a little livelier, and Nurse Helgesen was heard to say that perhaps they could begin, when there was another knock on the door. It was Eichbaum and Quam, who shook Nurse Helgesen’s hand and said: “No, we’ve not been invited, but we assumed our honest faces would ensure that we could come in.” Meanwhile, Karl went around making deep bows, dressed in a Parisian frock coat, the lining of which rustled a bit when he moved.

Nurse Helgesen, who was quite flattered by his formal manner, said:

“Mr von Eichbaum, it was so kind of you,” and she took his long, cool hand before Karl bowed once more, while Josefine, high-bosomed and with hussar’s braiding on her dress, offered the sauce around and the ladies, a little slowly and almost solemnly started to help themselves to the pudding. But Quam, who stood there looking around at all those tightly corseted nurses, said to Nurse Kaas:

“This is too damned formal.”

And he took the Madeira and started to fill the glasses to liven up the mood. “Nurse Brandt,” he said, “you must help me.”

Ida emerged from the corner over by the bleeding heart plant, where Nurse Friis had until that moment been examining the yellow leaves like some kind of specialist, and she took the tray with the glasses.

“Have you provided this?” said Karl in a strangely quiet voice as he took a glass.

He stood there with his glass.

“You look so lovely,” he said in the same tone, and she felt that she simply did not recognise his voice.

She spoke without looking up, presumably saying something about his flower.

“One has to do something to be welcome,” said Karl, but it was as though he was giving her some secret message.

Then Nurse Kjær came from behind and put her arm around Ida.

“Yes, isn’t she beautiful?” she said, as it were drawing her close.

“Yes, I can hardly recognise you ladies,” said Karl.

“No,” said Nurse Kjær: “We so rarely dress up.”

Ida went on. She seemed to be so graceful in appearance, so delicate, as she bent forward over the nurses and offered them a glass.

“What did that dress cost you?” asked Boserup as Ida went past, and the nurse sitting beside her laughed. Quam was telling stories down at the end of the table and the ladies moved their chairs closer together and rose and helped themselves. Ida could hear that Karl was also laughing over there by Nurse Kjær.

“Brandt made the pudding,” Josefine announced as she went round offering it to the others.

“There was a cry of delight when the door opened to Sister Koch, and Quam shouted: “Cheers, Sister Koch,” while they all drank to her.

“Oh, there are men here as well,” said Sister Koch, whose party dress was limited to a clean collar.

“Yes, two,” said Karl with a bow.

“So I see,” said Sister Koch, and they laughed again.

They started laughing at anything, talking in loud voices, talking past each other, while Nurse Boserup discussed the association and Nurse Kjær and Nurse Krohn made themselves corsages from the flowers on the table.