The White Hotel (7 page)

On the lake, there were a few lights where rescue boats were still searching for bodies. The rescuers were themselves recovering from the rumble of thunder that had crashed round their heads just before, rather than after, the lightning stroke that had turned night into day. The wind rose again, and they made haste to row ashore, because there was no hope of finding any more bodies that night. The hotel was alive with excited or demented people; the glass doors kept banging, as more and more bodies were brought in. The flood water in the billiard room, which was in
the basement, had risen almost to the level of the pockets, but the army major waded unperturbed round the table, intent on finishing his break. He had taken the last red, and all the colours to pink. It was a difficult straight pot, the whole length of the table, but he struck it cleanly and it slammed into the top pocket. As the water rose to his hips he sipped his beer and chalked his cue. The black nestled against a cushion but he gave the white ball spin to try to make the black cleave to the cushion. It was a beautiful stroke and the black thudded into a watery grave. The major had been playing against himself for the duration of the break, because his opponent, a priest, had rushed out to give the last rites to the dying. With a grim smile of self-congratulation the major hung up his cue and swam out of the billiard room. In a high room the lovers were asleep, despite the blustery wind shaking the windowpane; and as they slept they kept their hands resting on each other, as if scared that somehow they would vanish in the night. A black cat crouched, frightened out of its wits, on the pitching and tossing branch of a fir tree, opposite their balcony. It tensed to jump, but sensed it was too far.

Not for two days did anyone find out that the cat was stranded in the tree. The young lovers heard a scraping noise outside their window and got out of bed to see what was happening. They saw an army major climbing a long ladder, which was bending and creaking under his weight. From behind gently blowing curtains they watched the difficult rescue operation. The cat arched her back and spat at the man, and clawed him when he stretched out his hand. The soldier let out an obscene word, which made the young woman blush because she was not used to such language. Eventually the major backed down the ladder, the cat clinging round his neck.

As soon as the young woman had seen the scarlet stigmata
spring to the major’s hand she felt the noisome fall of a blood clot through her own body, and told her lover the bad news. It surprised and pleased her that he was not upset. There was a problem, though. She had no luggage whatever. She had left her heavy suitcase in the corridor of the main-line train, and when all the travellers tumbled out at the tiny hamlet in the middle of the burnt plain one of them must have taken her suitcase by mistake. She could not believe it had been stolen. Anyway, it had vanished by the time they came to change trains at the junction, taking with it dresses, underwear, toilet articles, and gifts for her son and her mother.

They had to ring for the maid. The polite girl, a Japanese student earning her tuition money, had difficulty understanding the young woman’s problem. She had to draw, on a sheet of hotel notepaper, a crescent moon beside a stick-woman. The maid blushed and departed. Fortunately she was herself menstruating, and came back with a towel. Shyly she scuttled away, refusing a tip.

They lay looking at photographs of his family. She was tickled by the shot of Freud at the seaside, wearing a black-and-white striped bathing suit, which could have been cut out of the same material as her dress. The young man chuckled too; he seemed particularly fond of his younger sister. His smile faded into sadness, looking at her.

They went down to dinner and he asked her if she felt well enough to dance to the gypsy band. She nodded. As they shuffled around between the tables she leaned on him. “Can you feel the blood falling?” he asked. “Always,” she said. “I fall ill every autumn.” The scent of her cherry lipstick stirred him and he kissed her; the warm sticky flavour of it made him want more. She had to draw away to take breath, but she loved the cherry
flavour of her lipstick on his lips and they kissed again, endless brief lip-brushes. She broke away again, saying the music made her want to sing. But already too many dancers and diners were staring at them. He pulled up her dress at the front; weakly she tried to push it down, but her throat ached with pleasure and he insisted: “Please, you must let me. Please.” It was a purr at her ear, mingled with the dart of his tongue. “But you’ll be covered in blood,” she whispered. “I don’t mind,” he said. “I want your blood.” So she put her arm again around his neck and let him do what he liked. The dancing and dining men winked at them, smiling, and they smiled back.

“Is it rare enough?” he asked, as he cut the fat from his meat. She caught his fingers in hers, and kissed them. “It’s better than I’ve ever known,” she said. “Can’t you tell?” The steak put back the blood she was losing, and afterwards they ran down to the trees, and made love again, on the grass by the lake. Sometimes, when a door was opened, they heard the gypsy music, and always there were the exceptionally large stars. It was not so comfortable making love while she was losing blood, but on the other hand she could let herself go even more because there was no fear of any consequences. When they climbed the stairs after midnight more maple leaves had blown into their room. She said, jokingly, that she could make use of them. She borrowed his toothbrush and as she cleaned her teeth he put his arms round her and gave her nape gentle kisses. There were more lightning flashes; sheet lightning and without thunder, bringing the snowy mountain peaks very close and lighting the trail of debris left by the storm and the flood.

Postcards from the White Hotel
:

A
N
E
LDERLY
N
URSE
:

I’ve been doing what I can for a sweet young couple who are both paralysed. It’s very brave of them to come on holiday together. They sit hunched up in their deck chairs sharing a blanket
(
we’re on a yacht in the middle of the lake
).
The food is excellent, and Elise is picking up, she sends love
.

A S
ECRETARY
:

Your last day hope it is warm & dry where you are, where we are it is very hot, there isn’t a cloud, it’s all hazy, we are on a boat on the lake, gnawing chicken bones and drinking wine. Hotel marvellous, better than the brochure and a good class of people
.

A P
RIEST
:

I see its three masts as an emblem of Christ’s passion and the white sail as his beloved shroud. It makes me feel less guilty for deserting my flock. Mama, I hope you are keeping fine. The weather is nice. A sweet young Catholic girl drowned in my arms a few days ago. Don’t worry about me. I am reading the little book you sent
.

A J
APANESE
M
AID
:

Wonder to relate, my lovers
(
the moon couple
)
up at dawn’s crack and out on a boat. It means I and my friend must make their bed all day, their bed is undescribable. I no time to write even haiku
.

A C
ORSETIERE
:

The water seems fearfully cold, but tomorrow I must take the plunge. I am trailing my hand over the side of our boat. I would not like to say where the young man next to me with his girl has got his hand. Well, life must go on. Of course, it’s not the same when your partner is gone, but I must try to enjoy the rest of the holiday for my dear husband’s sake
.

A
N
A
RMY
M
AJOR
:

It’s more like a troop ship than a yacht. It’s changed since before the war. We’re jammed against one another. I’d like a good Gatling to clear a space. The flood didn’t get rid of enough. Bodies! Everywhere! Dick arrives tomorrow by the first train
.

A W
ATCHMAKER
:

It went up like an oily rag. One moment we were enjoying the pleasant boat trip, the next, we could see our hotel burning away like plywood. We lost sight of the sun, it was so bright. Well, there goes all our possessions except the clothes we stand up in.

A B
OTANIST
:

It’s heartbreaking. Yesterday I found a very rare specimen of edelweiss. I left it back in the hotel, of course, and now it’s gone up in flames.

A B
ANKER’S
W
IFE
:

I couldn’t believe my eyes. There was our hotel burning to the ground in front of us across the water, and this young fellow pulled his girl on to his lap and settled her on it! You know what I mean? Like deck quoits! And here were these people screaming all round, some with relations back at the hotel!

A
N
I
NSURANCE
B
ROKER
:

It was just awful to see them jumping out of upstairs windows. They had jets playing on the fire but it didn’t seem to do any good. Elinor, thank God, was with me. I’d tried to get her to rest up in the hotel today. Anyway, we’re safe & sound and hope to see you
.

H
IS
W
IFE
:

Thank the dear Lord Hubert was with me. He wasn’t so keen on a boat trip since we had the flood, but I made him come along. The weather is lovely, tho’ it gets very cool at nights. I feel a lot better for the break, and we’ve met some lovely people
.

A B
OY
:

They were hanging from the trees like magic lanterns
.

A P
ASTOR
:

But the dead shall be raised, I have no fear of that. And this corrupt flesh shall put on incorruptible. The old lady we took the trip with, into the mountains, died in the fire. Yet my soul shall magnify the Lord
.

A H
ONEYMOON
C
OUPLE
:

It’s clouded our holiday, but just the same we are very happy. This is the lake and the mountains, it is a beautiful place and the scenery is breathtaking
.

A B
AKER’S
W
IFE
:

Our hearts are breaking. Dear mother has died in a terrible fire at the hotel. Thank God we were out in a boat, but we saw it all. It went up like paper. And we could see the room where she was. But she was an old lady, so we mustn’t grieve over it too much. We are trying to keep cheerful for the children’s sake, and you must do the same
.

A S
ALESMAN
:

One of the bedrooms had had the curtains drawn for a long time but yesterday they were open, and they think this may have had something to do with it, though I can’t see how
.

H
IS
M
ISTRESS
:

They think it was probably one of the maids having a quiet smoke when she made the beds. I’ve seen the Japanese maid smoking in the corridor, which looks funny as they’re so lady-like usually. Luckily it was a wing away from where we are, so our things are all right
.

A R
ETIRED
C
OUPLE
:

They’re saying something about the mountain
(
where there’s still lots of snow
)
reflecting the sun’s rays. Like the glass we use for reading, I suppose. Anyway it’s a terrible tragedy so take care of fires, dear. The hotel staff are marvellous. It’s still been worth coming, a holiday of a lifetime. Thank you for making it possible
.

A
N
O
PERA
S
INGER
:

I’ve gone to the mountains for a few days to rest before coming home. I think it’s doing me good. The last few weeks have been a strain, and it’s lovely not to have to do anything but enjoy the good food and the wonderful scenery. I’m not sleeping well, which is the only drawback, but beginning to relax a little. I’ll be seeing you soon
.

A S
EAMSTRESS:

My little girl is dead. My heart is broken. I promised to send you a card, my dear, but such a message! She is being buried here. I am leaving straight after.