For some reason, the girl lowered her voice:
‘That is the owner of the gallery. Hold on a minute, I’ll ask him,’ she whispered in a confidential tone and vanished into the adjoining room.
They heard voices coming from the room, and then the man peered out to take a look at who the potential buyers of the egg might be. Beba and Kukla stood modestly beside the counter, waiting. The man did not recognise Beba at first, but then, when he did, he gave a start. Beba was able to read the traces of an inner struggle on his face. He was evidently wondering whether to show that he recognised her, or pretend that he had never seen her before. The sullen-looking man vanished behind the wall with lightning speed just as he had appeared. The results of his inner struggle remained unclear. However, now his raised voice could be heard speaking Russian interspersed with the girl’s indistinct responses in Czech.
‘Sell it, no one buys that crap in any case! That idiot of yours, Karel, will make us a new one! Let the old bags pay twenty thousand! For that amount, for twenty thousand, I’d let the old witch rip me off!’
After a while the pleasant young girl appeared out of the adjoining room, now somewhat pinker in the face, and said:
‘You’re in luck.’
‘How much?’ asked Beba.
‘Twenty thousand,’ the girl spoke cautiously.
‘Does that include transport?’
‘Where to?’
‘To the Grand Hotel.’
‘Oh, but that’s right here! No problem. Are you paying cash or with a credit card?’ the girl asked, still disbelieving.
‘Cash!’ Beba burst out. ‘We’ll be back in a second. You’re not closing yet?’
‘No, you’ve got another full hour yet. I’ll wait for you.’
‘What’s your name?’ asked Kukla.
‘Marlena,’ said the girl.
At that moment the sullen-looking man with wild hair came out of the adjoining room and headed for the door. Despite his evident inner intention of looking neither left nor right, his glance escaped his control and came to rest on Beba. She managed to wave to him.
‘Spassibo, Kotik!’[6] she said sweetly.
What about us? Let’s keep going! In life there’s a lot we can delay, but the tale moves on and cannot stay!
6.
It was already late when two sulky young men from the ‘New Russians’ gallery brought the egg and placed it in Pupa’s suite.
Beba was sprawled wearily in an armchair, filling it entirely with her body like risen dough in a tin. Kukla was striding up and down, her arms folded on her chest. And then she stopped:
‘Well, aren’t we going to open it?’
Beba hauled herself out of the chair and waddled over to the egg. They unlocked it together. The room was filled with the pleasant aroma of fresh pine.
‘Who would have thought it was so spacious!’ said Beba.
‘We’ll have to make sure we buy enough bags of ice in the local supermarket,’ said Kukla drily, closing the egg.
Moths flew in through the open balcony doors into the brightly lit suite.
‘And the boot,’ added Kukla.
‘What boot?’
‘We ought to put Pupa’s boot in with her as well, don’t you think?’
‘Sure, put it in.’
‘I think Pupa would really like it if the boot was cleaned.’
‘We can have it dry-cleaned,’ said Beba, waddling over to the telephone to ring room service. ‘They’ll send someone right up,’ she said and made her way to the door. Beba had had enough for the day. She had no strength for any more words.
When she handed the hotel employee the bag containing a large fur boot, he opened his eyes wide and raised his eyebrows, but the question mark that formed for a moment on his forehead vanished at once, proving him a true hotel professional for whom nothing human is strange. Kukla withdrew to her part of the suite, leaving the door carefully ajar, as though Pupa was still in her room. She went out onto the balcony. The night was warm and soft as plush, and the sky was lit up by an enormous full moon. A barely visible mist rose from the trees, at least that is how it seemed to Kukla. The warmth that had accumulated during the day was evaporating from the leaves. Kukla breathed in the warm, fragrant air. Her nostrils caught the sweet smell of elder flowers. And then the door of the next-door balcony burst suddenly and noisily open and a metallic, tart woman’s voice rent the silence of the night.
‘Why the hell did you close the door? We’ll suffocate in here!’
‘I didn’t close it! Besides, we’ve got air-conditioning!’ replied a male voice calmly.
‘Everyone knows who keeps shutting the doors at home!’ grumbled the woman.
‘So open them!’ said the man’s voice.
‘I have done! Things soon get smelly round you, at home and on holiday!’
Kukla stood with her arms leaning on the balcony railing. The voices scratched roughly over the soft plush of the night. And then she screwed up her eyes, like the first time when she was still unaware of what she was doing, like many times before now – and directed all her thoughts in one direction. The door of the next-door balcony closed with a bang.
A little while later the metallic woman’s voice was heard again.
‘Why did you open the door?’
‘Which door?’ asked the man’s voice.
‘The room door!’
‘Why would I open the door into the corridor?
‘Because the balcony door banged! Didn’t you hear?’
‘Heavens, woman, you’re crazy…’
‘The balcony door banged shut, and there’s not a breath of wind outside!’
‘So?’
‘So you must have opened the door onto the corridor on purpose to make a draught, so the balcony door would close by itself!’
‘Oh for goodness’ sake, give me a break! What’s got into you?’
‘What’s got into you!’ sawed the metallic voice.
Kukla stood on the balcony, gazing at the moon. A smile passed over her face. In the park opposite, the trees were lit up by moonlight and the light of lanterns at the base of their trunks. It seemed that the canopies had no weight and that they could at any moment lift off the trees and float away across the sky like luxurious green zeppelins. Large rooks rustled in the treetops. Kukla could not see them, but she knew they were there.
What about us? Unfortunately, we must keep going. While life may lead us on a merry dance, the tale hastens on without a backward glance.
7.
When she got back to her suite, Beba was overcome by indescribable fatigue. She collapsed, fully dressed, onto her bed, managed to catch a glimpse of the full moon in the sky through the balcony door, which was still open, and then sank into a deep sleep.
Beba dreamed that she was entering a sumptuous royal palace. She appeared to be the queen, although she seemed to be dressed in a nightgown and housecoat. She had bare feet, and had not had time to pull on her ‘minimiser’, which she was immediately aware of, because the weight of her breasts hurt her. That is why she was supporting them with her hands. She held her left breast in her left palm and her right breast in her right palm. She stepped into the hall like a Sumo-wrestler, which must have aroused respect in those present. Her gaze fell on a red carpet stretching away from her and two rows of figures, between which she was evidently supposed to walk. At the end, somewhere in the depths of the hall, stood a podium and a red and gold royal throne. But, amazingly, the rows were not composed of people, courtiers and ladies, but – eggs!