Chapter 7
The pavements began to fill with the late crowd as evening slowly descended. Electric lights cast their reflections on the wet roads, dampened by a sprinkle of rain that had been falling steadily for the past half hour. Tourists, convention-goers, and businessmen, tired after a long day, were brought in by taxis that made splashing sounds in the cold puddles forming outside.
While waiting at the bar in the Konnagatt Hotel, my attention was drawn to a stout man prowling restlessly about in the lobby. I watched as he entered the bar with a brooding frown across his square face. He peered around as though in search of someone, before retreating to the lobby.
There were other patrons in the hotel's tastefully decorated and moodily illuminated bar. At the bar counter, two men sat side by side, their fingers running along racing forms, speaking to one another so softly that it seemed they were reciting incantations. Two elegantly dressed women sat at a table to my left, smoking long, thin cigarettes wrapped in brown paper.
By the large bay window, a tanned, well-dressed man with very white teeth — obviously less indigenous to Earnell than the other barflies — poured out a bottle of Dr. Pierce into a tall glass filled to the brim with ice.
I loitered at the bar while waiting for Enide to return from Braxa. Although the trip was part of Enide's weekly routine, for which she hardly needed an escort, I was feeling bored and looking for company. Neither Enide nor Andra had been around very much during the previous days. Since Enide wasn't due back until later that evening, we arranged to meet at the Konnagatt Hotel's bar, located conveniently across the street from the train station.
In a juvenile sort of way, I felt pretty sophisticated as I sat at my table, delicately pronging olives with a tiny fork. I'd never ventured to a bar by myself; it had always been as part of a group, usually in the company of adults. In any case, there is something about the ambience of a hotel bar on a rainy night that makes me think I might soon find myself hobnobbing with veiled women or similar sketchy characters.
It had been nearly a fortnight since I returned home from school. Much of my time was spent with Enide, but also with Andra, who was with us more often than not. When the three of us were together, fun and laughter seldom receded. My friends were affectionate, voluble, and unpretentious, finding the most happiness in being with friends and simple amusements.
As luck would have it, I had also stumbled into a job of sorts. Although Earnell was not a garrison town itself, its proximity to the Sanbridge army base and naval facilities at Braxa made it a desirable location for many well-heeled officers. The result was a lavish Joint Legion Club nestled amidst vast tracts of parkland. I have heard it said that the town's Legion Club puts many private country clubs to shame. Best of all, as a soon-to-be officer cadet, I could make use of it without straining my meagre finances.
I went over to the club at the earliest opportunity, wanting to have a destination to take my family as well as Enide and Andra. Brandishing my acceptance letter from Varcri, I waltzed into the club and went through the bureaucratic rigmarole to become a member. Afterwards, one of the genial chaps from the reception desk offered to show me around the premises.
At the stables, my guide struck up a conversation with one of the instructors before introducing me. As the three of us chatted, it became evident that the pair had two things at the forefront of their minds. First, the club was rather short of riding instructors. Second, they were well aware that as a recent graduate from Fortunbrae, I was likely to have experience with equestrian arts. I won't summon every detail of our conversation. Suffice it to say, I was soon recruited to help coach the under-sixteen Atartoup teams.
I would like to think that my sense of civic-mindedness runs deep enough that refusing wouldn't have crossed my mind. Besides, they only requested my assistance twice a week, about four hours each day. It was hardly any kind of burden so I readily agreed.
In short, I couldn't have conjured up a more agreeable state of affairs if I had planned it myself. By any reasonable measure, I was enjoying the quintessentially idyllic summer before university. Yet, as I sat in the bar waiting, I felt dismal and uneasy, scoffing at the thought of all those sentimental novels depicting summers filled with first love and what have you. The reality didn't seem nearly as entertaining.
At first, knowing that Enide shared my trepidation served to buck up my resolve. I told myself that we were both being practical and level-headed about things. But as the days went on, I came to realise that Enide felt the same yearning I did. I couldn't point to any one thing she had said or done, but it was there, in those imperceptible moments that lingered between us.
Andra, as observant as an owl perched in a tree, had taken to teasing us wryly, all too aware of the growing feelings between Enide and me. Eventually, however, Andra set aside innuendo and insinuation. Several days prior, she confronted me with unflinching candour, her eyes gleaming with intensity. She had urged me to talk to Enide and scolded me for my reluctance.
I knew, without a shadow of a doubt that Andra had our best interests at heart. Despite my unwillingness to retread the same ground, I felt obligated to explain my misgivings to her. With little conviction, I laid out the same dismal explanation I had offered to my mother and my sister — and myself, every sleepless night.
Not that I gave a very thoughtful account of myself. I suspect I came across as rather sullen, but that was the way I felt. Andra hadn't appeared all that convinced though she refrained from pressing the matter further.
Nevertheless, following our conversation, my resolve to avoid any romantic entanglement and keep things with Enide on the straight and narrow began to waver. Worse still, I felt a sense of guilt whenever Enide and I spent time with one another. I began to ask myself if my presence afflicted her as much as being in hers tormented me.
It occurred to me that my lamentable circumstances could stand another drink. Just then, I spotted Enide strolling toward the bar. I raised my hand to beckon her and stood up to greet her. Through a haze of cigarette smoke, the two women sitting close by gave us a brief sideways glance.
Enide approached with a smile. I suspect that to the casual onlooker, everything would have seemed normal. But I knew Enide better than that. Behind that inward kind of smile, I could see the strain and effort. She looked tired and wanted rid of me without further ado. I returned her smile, doing my utmost to conceal how dejected I felt.
"How do you do?" Enide said with formality once she had taken her seat at the table.
"How do you do?" I responded, playing along with her game. "Lovely evening."
"Beautiful!" she scoffed, brushing droplets from her sleeve. "Are you Mr. Durrg?"
"I always am," I replied with feigned bluster.
Enide smirked. "An admirable trait."
"I aim for consistency," I told her. "You must be Miss. Stranda?"
She nodded and straightened her hair, smiling archly at me from beneath her lashes.
"Do anything interesting today?" I asked, no longer sure if I was speaking to Enide or Miss. Stranda, whom I had apparently only just met.
"Oh, this and that — I've been consoling suicidal seminarians," she replied.
"Oh... how worthy. It seems we both possess admirable traits." I quipped, playing the foil. "Have you heard the expression, 'prevention is nine-tenths the cure'? Well, in cases of suicide, I feel sure it must be closer to ten-tenths the cure."
