The Velvet Room (14 page)

The picture was so clear sometimes that for whole minutes it shut out everything else: all the dirt and heat and wind; all the tired dust-colored people; all the crying babies and scolding mothers. Sometimes it could even shut out the flies that crawled up the backs of Robin’s sweaty legs, and the smarting cuts on her fingers. At night it was easier. As she lay awake in the hot cabin, Robin could almost convince herself that she really was in the Velvet Room. With her eyes wide open in the darkness, she could see it clearly. But it was important to keep her eyes open, because the moment they closed she could see nothing but apricots, as if the inside of her eyelids had been indelibly printed with row upon row of juicy orange circles.

T
OWARD THE END OF PITTING SEASON
Robin finally found time to make another visit to the Velvet Room. The trucks began coming in from the orchards with smaller loads of fruit, and sometimes there wasn’t enough to go around. When that happened, the women got what boxes there were, and the children were allowed to go and play.

The very first day that Robin found herself set free, she headed for Palmeras House. It had been a long time. What if the stub of a candle that she had left in the well had melted or been eaten by mice? Perhaps the matches would be too damp to work? She decided, in that case, she’d just have to go through the tunnel in the dark. There wasn’t enough time to go back to look for another candle, and anyway she wasn’t afraid of the tunnel any more. At least, not much.

However, the candle was still there, and the matches worked, and the tunnel was no more scary than it had always been. Once inside the house, Robin ran. She ran through the big empty rooms, up the stairs, and down the hall to the door of the Velvet Room. She was back, and that made up for everything. It made up for everything the last few weeks had been — all the dirt, heat, discomfort, and all the hopeless ugliness and crowded confusion. It all seemed miles away in an instant.

Although she stayed most of the afternoon, she didn’t do any reading that day. It was enough just to be there. She wandered around the room, letting her fingers drift along chair arms and tabletops. She leaned her cheek against the cool beauty of the marble mantel. At the whatnot case she knelt down and pressed her nose against the glass in front of the portrait of Bonita. “Hi,” she said. “I’m back.”

The next day Robin went to work, but there wasn’t much fruit. Late in the morning, to her surprise, Gwen came to the shed looking for her. She wasn’t needed, so Mr. Criley let her go. Gwen had had a wonderful time, and she had a lot of souvenirs from the Islands that she wanted to show Robin. So they went up to Gwen’s room and looked at the things and talked.

Robin had wondered if Gwen would be different when she got home, but she seemed to be just the same. She looked different because her blond hair was bleached even lighter by the sun, and her skin was a deep golden tan. But she hadn’t changed in other ways. She was still as friendly and enthusiastic as ever. And she still said exactly what she was thinking, no matter what.

Today Gwen was enthusiastic about school starting. Robin was surprised. “I thought you didn’t like school,” she said. “And what about that boarding school back East vou were going to?”

“Oh, I don’t really like school,” Gwen said. “But I like to see all the kids, and there’s always lots more things to do during the school year. I’m not going to that boarding school after all. At least not this year. I flunked their old test.” Gwen wiggled her shoulders in her familiar shrug. “Mom was furious,” she added cheerfully.

“Will you be going to Lincoln School in Santa Luisa then?” Robin asked.

“Sure,” Gwen said. “That’s where I’ve always gone.” Her face lightened suddenly. “Hey, we’ll be in the same room. You’re going to be in seventh grade, aren’t you?”

“I’m not sure,” Robin said. “Dad says we’ll all probably have to be tested before we’re placed because we’ve missed so much school lately. I ought to be in seventh, though. I mean, that’s the grade I’d have been in if we hadn’t moved around so much.”

“Oh, they’ll put you in seventh,” Gwen said. “I’ll bet you could even be in eighth if you wanted to. But don’t, though. It’ll be fun being in the same room. We’ll have Mrs. Jennings for English and history. Most of the kids like her. She makes you work hard, but she’s not mean or anything.”

“It sounds like fun,” Robin said. She sighed. It really did sound like fun — going every day, and starting in September.

While Gwen and Robin were talking, Carmela came up to tell Gwen that Miss Andrews had come. Gwen looked startled. “Wow!” she said. “I forgot she was coming. I’m going to be awful. I haven’t practiced for years.”

Robin was going to leave, but Gwen didn’t want her to. “Come on down and wait for me. It won’t take long. Miss Andrews can’t stand me for very long at a time. I’m her most terrible failure.”

So Robin went downstairs with Gwen and listened while Gwen took her lesson on the big grand piano. Gwen really was pretty bad, but of course she hadn’t practiced while she was in Hawaii. When Miss Andrews finally stood up with a deep sigh, Gwen said, “Miss Andrews, I’d like you to meet my friend, Robin Williams. Robin can really play the piano, Miss Andrews.”

Robin was surprised and shocked. She’d come right from the pitting shed, so her feet were bare and she was wearing one of her oldest dresses. Miss Andrews smiled politely, but Robin recognized the sharp curiosity behind the smile.

“How do you do, Robin,” Miss Andrews said. “Won’t you play something for me? I’d love to hear you.”

“Come on, Robin,” Gwen said. “Play that one you played for me. The long one.”

Robin wanted desperately to refuse, but she couldn’t think how to do it gracefully. So she went over to the piano. She hadn’t noticed how bad her hands really looked until she saw them on the keyboard. The apricot juice had stained her nails, and her thumbs were crosshatched with dozens of tiny scars from the pitting knife. Watching her stained fingers on the white keys, she started out badly; but she had never played on a grand piano before, and the rich tone impressed her so that she forgot about her hands. She even forgot about Gwen and Miss Andrews. When she finished, she wasn’t sure if she had played well or badly. The sounds had been exciting, but that was because of the wonderful piano.

She didn’t want Miss Andrews to have to say something about her playing, so she jumped up quickly. “I have to go home now,” she said. “It was nice meeting you. Good-bye, Gwen.” She rushed out, feeling stupid and awkward.

She was almost to the barnyard, scuffing along with her head down, thinking of all the things she should have said and done, when Gwen caught up with her, “Why did you run off like that?” Gwen asked. “Miss Andrews thought you were great.”

“Great!” Robin laughed. “Gwen McCurdy, you’re making that up. What did she really say?”

“
She did say that. She really did. At least that’s what she meant. What she said exactly was…” Gwen arranged her face in a primly judicial expression. “What she really said was, ‘Of course, the child is badly in need of training, but I think there is a real talent there.’ And when Miss Andrews says something like that, it means
great!”

From then on Robin became a regular visitor at the McCurdys’ house on Wednesdays, when Gwen had her piano lessons. When Miss Andrews wasn’t in too much of a hurry, she had Robin play for her too. Robin had heard that Miss Andrews was the best piano teacher in Santa Luisa, and that she was very expensive; but she must have understood how things were, because she never asked Robin if she wanted to take lessons. Even when she spent as much as half an hour helping Robin, she only called it “listening to Robin play.”

In between lessons Gwen often asked Robin to come and help her practice. Really Robin didn’t help much, but they played duets and took turns practicing. Gwen said it was more fun that way. She said practicing got pretty dull when there was no one there to listen and make comments. And Mrs. McCurdy was gone so much, to clubs and meetings, that there usually wasn’t anyone there except Carmela, and she was busy. Once in a while, though, when they were practicing, Gwen’s father came in to listen.

Don McCurdy was a big man with a slow, easy smile. His face was brown from the sun, and he wore riding clothes most of the time. To her surprise, Robin found that it didn’t make her a bit nervous to have Mr. McCurdy in the room. She could go on practicing and giggling with Gwen just as if he weren’t there.

It took longer before Robin could feel at ease around Mrs. McCurdy. When she had first begun to visit Gwen at the McCurdy house, Mrs. McCurdy was always polite, but her small tight smile made Robin feel a little guilty without knowing why. Then one day that started changing. Robin was on her way up to Gwen’s room when Mrs. McCurdy stopped her. “I’ve been hearing some nice things about you, Robin,” she said.

“Oh?” Robin said, feeling her face getting hot. There never seemed to be any sensible answer when people said things like that to you.

“I was talking to Miss Andrews yesterday,” Mrs. McCurdy went on. “She was telling me that you are very talented musically. Miss Andrews thinks your interest in music has encouraged Gwen to take her piano more seriously. In fact, she thinks Gwen has improved remarkably since you two have been working together.” Mrs. McCurdy’s smile was quite different from the one Robin had seen before.

Robin couldn’t think of anything to say, so she only smiled and nodded. After Mrs. McCurdy had gone on down the hall, Robin thought for a moment before she started slowly up the stairs. Halfway up she stopped and extended her arm. “I dub thee Sir Robin,” she said regally. Then she skipped on up the stairs.

A few days after pitting season was over, the Williams family made a very important trip to town. First, they went to the Lincoln School, where all the children, except Shirley, were tested to determine their grade placement. The test seemed pretty hard to Robin, particularly the arithmetic, but she thought she did fairly well. Mr. Maywood, the principal, said the results would be mailed to them in a few days.

Next, they went on downtown to go shopping. This was a very important shopping trip because everyone had pitting money to spend.

The children spent most of their money buying shoes and clothing for school, but Mama spent some of hers on things for the cabin. Then they each had a five-cent hamburger, and Mama treated everyone to a movie. That is, everyone except Robin and Dad. Dad didn’t want to see the movie, so he and Robin went to the library instead.

There weren’t many people in the library that night, so Robin and Dad had it almost to themselves. They had a good time. Dad found a book of poetry and showed Robin some poems he’d liked when he was her age. He had Robin hold the book, and he recited “Ozymandias” and “The Destruction of Sennacherib” in such a dramatic whisper that it made tingles go up the backs of Robin s legs. It seemed just like old times, back in Fresno. When the library closed, the movie still wasn’t over, so they went for a walk around town. They talked about old times in Fresno and things they’d done there, and Robin told Dad more about Bridget and all about Gwen and the McCurdys.

“And if only they put me in seventh grade,” Robin said, “Gwen and I will be in the same room in school.”

“Robin,” Dad said, “I don’t think you ought to let this friendship with Gwen become too important to you. I’m glad that you and Gwen have had such good times together, and she sounds like a very nice girl; but — well, school will be starting soon and things may be different.”

Robin took his hand and squeezed it. She knew exactly what he was going to say. “Don’t worry, Dad,” she said. “I’m not going to get my feelings hurt. You don’t have to warn me. I’ve already thought about it. Anyway, I like Gwen, but there are other things more important to me. Lots more important.”

They walked on together for a while, just enjoying the night and the peaceful sleepy streets. But then Dad sat down suddenly on a bus bench, and Robin saw that his face looked very white in the moonlight. “Let’s just sit a minute and rest our feet,” he said, but his smile didn’t hide the awful tiredness in his face. Somewhere inside, Robin felt fear move like a cold, dark wind.

They sat quietly, side by side, on the bench. The night was warm and amber with summer moonlight, but inside the warmth was gone. Robin thought suddenly of the Velvet Room and wished she were there.

O
N THE SATURDAY BEFORE SCHOOL STARTED
Dad suggested that Robin ask Bridget to have dinner with them. Robin wasn’t sure that Bridget would be able to walk so far. And maybe she wouldn’t want to have dinner in the Village. But she ran over to ask her anyway, and Bridget said she’d be delighted.

Robin had been thinking of making a short visit to the Velvet Room, but she decided to go home instead to help Mama get things ready. She had some ideas about fixing up the cabin.

The main room of the cabin looked a little better since Mama had spent her pitting money, but of course there was just so much you could do for a room that had to serve as front room, kitchen, dining room, and bedroom for half the family. Mama had made some bright cotton curtains, there was a patch of linoleum in the kitchen end of the room, and the cots had new Indian-blanket covers.

Robin got Mama to let her put the boys’ cot in the bedroom just for the evening. By padding up the other cot and letting the cover hang almost to the floor, she made it look almost like a studio couch. Then, with the chairs arranged around close, that end of the room was like a real living room.

The other children ate their dinner while Dad and Robin walked over to get Bridget. Robin was going to eat with the grownups because she was Bridget’s special friend. When they reached the cottage, Robin took Dad around back, so he could meet Betty and the other animals before they went in. Sure enough, Damon and” Pythias were curled up on their favorite bench. Robin was just waking them up when Bridget came to the back door.