Last Act (35 page)

“Of course. And I remember last time we talked about it, they hadn't come.”

“Just so. When Hans hauled you two out of the river and I saw how things were between you, I sent for them.”

“Sent?”

“A messenger. I had my duty, as a Lissenberger. Had to know just where I stood. Before I said anything. My man had a bit of trouble persuading your doctor to part with the file. He had to invoke our ambassador in the end. He's come back with a healthy respect for your British red tape. He only got here last night. With the lot. Your notes: X rays, everything. By which time you'd vanished. We didn't only pump out your stomach when we got you back here. We X rayed you, Anne.” He was holding her hand again, and the nurse had moved a little nearer. “You're absolutely not going to faint, or have hysterics? But this is as sure as I'm a doctor, and a happy man. Whatever it was, child, and whether your doctor was right or wrong in his reading of the first X rays, we'll never know. But the new ones are clear.
There's nothing wrong with you, Anne, except a little fatigue and a bump on the head. You're well. You've just been too busy to notice. The sal volatile, nurse. Old-fashioned, but it works.”

“Whew!” The strong spirits settled the swaying of her mind. She lay for a moment, quiet, looking at him, trying to believe him. “It can't be true,” she said at last. “And yet—you wouldn't tell me if you didn't believe it yourself. Would you?”

“Of course not. You must believe me, Anne. I promise you, you can. I'd show you the X rays, but they wouldn't mean anything to you. They mean your future, Michael's, the future of Lissenberg, to me.”

“It's impossible.”

“Nothing's impossible. Mind you, it's easier for me to believe than for you, because I had been nourishing a few unmedical hopes for some time.”

“You had?”

“Yes, indeed. Flying in the face of the facts. But, Anne, think. Would a dying woman have survived what you and Michael went through the other night? In fact, I'd been hoping before that. You looked different; you seemed different. Of course you wouldn't notice. I was watching you. I did. Despair breeds illness, and happiness is sometimes the best cure there is. Happiness and occupation.”

“Happy?” She thought about it. “Do you know, I think I'd forgotten what it tastes like.” She looked back, across a great gulf, to the plastics workshop; the sad little room; Mrs. Briggs. I must do something for Mrs. Briggs, she thought. She smiled at Dr. Hirsch. “If it's really true,” she said. “I wonder if it didn't begin to happen when my voice came back.”

“Came back? Had you lost it?”

“Oh, yes, didn't I tell you? When Robin—when my husband was killed and I found out about the woman he'd been living with, it just went. It was the last straw. Everything gone.”

“I can imagine. And when did it come back?”

“When I got Carl's letter, offering me the part of Marcus. I suddenly found myself singing.” She laughed and told him about Mrs. Briggs, who had thought she was a gramophone record. “Goodness, what I owe to Carl,” she said.

“Lucky you feel like that. Poor man, he's close to a nervous breakdown. He feels it's all his fault. Getting you here and telling you so little about the setup. He did it for the best, he said. Didn't want to distract you. But it was all our faults really. We none of us took Gertrud seriously enough. Except Michael. He tried not to let her see how he felt about you. He told me he was really glad when Winkler sent him off to Sicily, so he wouldn't be tempted.”

“He might have explained.” But of course there was no way he could have. “And there was I imagining all kinds of things. I was even jealous of Alix at one point.” She stretched luxuriously in the high bed. “Do you know, Dr. Hirsch, I am beginning to believe you. I actually feel well. I've just been too busy to notice. Please, can I get up for breakfast?”

“You can do anything in the world you want to.” He smiled his stiff smile. “And lord knows you've a right to be hungry after the job we did on you. I do apologise, Anne.”

“No, no.” This time she reached out to take his hand. “You were absolutely right.” Her voice trembled a little. “You have no idea how close I came to it.”

“I can imagine,” he said. “And, frankly, we might not have been in time. If you'd taken the lot, it would have been touch and go. They were different ones, you see, stronger. Michael was frantic. Do you remember the speed we arrived at?”

“Do I not!” Now she was laughing. “He keeps trying to run me over. But, doctor, where
is
Michael?” Now, more than anything in the world, she wanted to share their happiness with him.

Dr, Hirsch looked at his watch. “He's late,” he said. “Something must have come up at the Diet. Well, there's a lot to do.”

“What will happen to Gertrud?”

“Exile. Michael wrote her a note, when we knew you were all right, telling her to go at once, and be thankful.”

“I wonder … That's a very desperate woman, doctor. I think I had better get dressed. It just might be her that's keeping Michael at the Diet. Could I have my clothes please, nurse?”

“They're not very suitable, I'm afraid, your—” Extraordinary, the woman had actually been about to say “Your Highness.” “We sent to the hostel for some, but they haven't
come yet.”

“Never mind.” Anne could laugh at it now. “Those dreadful jeans were good enough for the Diet yesterday. They'll have to do for today too. Quickly, please. I have the strangest feeling I ought to be at the Rathaus.”

“But you're not strong enough. Not after …” Dr. Hirsch dwindled into silence as she got out of bed.

“You've told me I'm well, doctor. I'm grateful, and about to prove it. What's a little thing like a stomach pumping to a hearty woman like me? As for being hungry, that can wait. Michael can buy me a hunter's breakfast when there's time. Pass me my underclothes, nurse. Oh, and, doctor, would you be a darling and drive me down?”

“I'll certainly not let you go alone.” Routed by her evident determination to get dressed whether he was there or not, he turned and fled.

“We dried the jeans,” said the nurse apologetically, “but they're pretty awful.”

“Never mind. My fake fur will cover the worst of them.”

“Fake?” The nurse handed it over lovingly. “My father was a furrier, ma'am. If that's not real mink, I'm not a nurse.”

“Good God.” said Anne, a whole new light opening upon Prince Rudolf and his expensive habits. “Oh, well.” She wrapped herself in the light warmth. “So much the better.” Lipstick, comb; odd to have this feeling of urgency, of Michael needing her. She was probably lightheaded with hunger, but she was going to respect the feeling just the same. “Glucose tablets,” she said. “Please?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

This time Anne recognised the form of address. “Not your Princess yet.” She accepted the tablets with a smile of thanks. “Just wish me luck.”

Dr. Hirsch had his Jaguar ticking over at the clinic's opulent door. “You're very anxious, aren't you?” He helped Anne quickly in. “I respect your instincts. We'll make the best time we can, but it's a twenty minute drive.”

“Make it fifteen.” Anne fastened her safety harness.

Just outside the town, a police car passed them, siren screaming.
Not surprising, thought Anne, glancing at the speedometer. She leaned forward as the policeman jumped out of his car and came back to them. One of Herr Winkler's men, thank God, the one who had passed Michael and her across the bridge when she first came. His name? Of course: “Herr Weigel,” she spoke before either of the men could. “Can you help us? I need to get to the Rathaus?”

“Your—” Once again that pause. “Of course,” he said. “Follow me.”

As it had been yesterday—yesterday? impossible— the Rathaus square was crowded, but this time, instead of arriving by the garbage truck, Anne swept in behind the screaming police car. Weigel was there to open her door before Hirsch could get round to do it. “Quick,” he said. “I think the Prince needs you. I've been getting it on the closed circuit. Trouble in the Diet.”

“I thought so.”

“I'll see you in.”

“Thanks.” She followed him round to a side entrance, and as they went the crowd in the square recognised her. “Anne!” they shouted. “Princess Anne!”

She turned, briefly, to smile and wave her thanks, then followed Herr Weigel in at a small side door that gave directly onto a dark corner of the dais. For a moment, standing there side by side, they listened, unobserved, to the uproar in the hall. If possible, it was even more packed than it had been yesterday—that faroff, hard-to-imagine yesterday when she had been a dying woman. But though the press were here, the conference delegates were absent, presumably back at work.

“Order!” Josef's voice. “I must ask for order in the hall. Gertrud of Lissenberg has the right to speak.” Now Anne saw that Gertrud and Michael were standing downstage of the big table where the Diet members sat, facing away from the audience and towards the Diet members.

“Hush.” Anne put a hand on Herr Weigel's arm as she whispered. “We'll hear her first.” There was little chance of their being seen where they stood in the shadows. All attention was concentrated on Michael and Gertrud.

“As I was saying.” Gertrud must have been interrupted by the
crowd, but went on as coolly as if nothing had happened. “We must think of the future of Lissenberg. We all know and love Michael, but we must recognise him for what he is, young, full of wild ideas, an enthusiast. Trade unions, he wants, and a tiny opera house that will make us a laughing stock. He has not told you, I notice, that underneath the ruins of the old opera house lies a fortune for us all. A fortune which I propose we exploit to make Lissenberg one of the world's richest countries.”

“A fortune of death,” said Michael. “For us. For the world. Are there not problems enough, between the great powers, without our producing a substance that makes the neutron bomb seem like a child's toy? We are men of peace, here in Lissenberg. How can we take a selfish decision that will make a mockery of everything the peace conference stands for? Gentlemen, I put it to you, once again, that work be started as soon as possible on a new, smaller opera house. In the meantime, no-one to be allowed into the ruins of the old one.”

“No!” Gertrud's protest came as Josef rose to put the vote. “Before the vote is taken, I must be allowed my chance to question Michael's right to ask for it. Only the Hereditary Prince has that right on a question of this importance. Yesterday, you acclaimed Michael and his fiancée as your Prince and Princess. A romantic gesture, gentleman, but a mistake. You should have asked a few more questions. If we are really going to put our heads in the sand and bury a fortune in the mountains, then Lissenberg faces the worst financial crisis of its history. And do you think my cousin Michael is the man to cope with that? Yesterday you were carried away by a kind of romantic madness. Today I urge you for all our sakes, for the sake of Lissenberg, to think again. My cousin Michael is young, a dreamer, an enthusiast. But Lissenberg is facing financial disaster. We need hard business heads, my friends—not romantic dreams. Oh, Michael is a glamorous figure; we all know and love him. He has played out his little drama as Prince Incognito, waiting at table, meddling with the police, riding on garbage trucks, making trouble … trouble everywhere. His father sent him into exile, and it begins to look as if his father was wise. Just think what has happened since he came back. Nothing but death
and disaster for Lissenberg. And as for the woman he brought with him: have you noticed, my friends, that she is not here today? Your new Princess, whom you so generously acclaimed yesterday, is absent because she tried to kill herself last night. Dr. Hirsch has her in his clinic now, fighting to save her life. Why did she do it?” Gertrud paused expressively, and Anne, who had been listening in a kind of frozen horror, felt Herr Weigel's urgent hand on hers.

He was right. This must not go on. She stepped forward, between Michael and Gertrud. “Let me answer that,” she said. “It is my right. As you can see, the story that I am dying is”—she paused, and the audience waited, breathless—“exaggerated,” she finished, and got a little sigh that was almost laughter. What rumours had Gertrud's friends been circulating? “I don't know what stories have been told you,” she went on now, seeing her way clear. “If I may, I will tell you the truth. Yesterday, my friends, I thought I was a dying woman. And, so thinking, let Fräulein Stock persuade me it was my duty to leave Lissenberg, to leave the man I love. I am sorry to disappoint you, Fräulein Stock.” She turned to face Gertrud. “But I did not take the lethal pills you so kindly made available. That is why I am here today, very much alive, and, thanks to Dr. Hirsch, and, I think, to Lissenberg, a well woman.” And, speaking again to the hushed audience: “If Michael will forgive me, and you still want me, it will be great happiness to be your Princess.” She held out a hand to Michael. “There are worse things in life than romantic ideals.”

It brought the crowd to their feet with a great roar, and it took her straight into Michael's arms. When she emerged, laughing, blushing, shaken from his kiss, they were still shouting tumultuously. “How very public,” she said.

“Just demonstrating your fitness to be our Princess. Anne, it's really true? I know it is, I feel it is, but just say so, for me alone?”

“It's true. God bless Dr. Hirsch. Michael, I can't believe it either.”

“We'll just have to do our best, but I agree it may take a little time. When I think of last night … No time for that now. Chin up, Your Highness, we've a job to do.” He eased her out of the
fur jacket and the crowd gave a warm, delighted laugh at sight of her teeshirt with its message:
I love Lissenberg.
Meanwhile the Diet members had conferred briefly, then risen to their feet and were filing round the table, led by Josef.