‘Nothing.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Well, if there is something, it’s my business. Now go on, enjoy yourselves.’
Loud with city noise, the air was mild. She felt buoyant, like a woman who had discharged her duty and had time to burn. There was still warmth in the day, still sunlight in the afternoon. It slanted across the green spaces of Central Park, between the towers and down the canyons of Columbus Avenue. She enjoyed the energy of the city. Walking the streets of New York had never lost its thrill for her. She had spent much of her life in a small, leafy, upstate town, where such things as the quality of life and the cleanness of the air were treasured; but she was a Berliner born, and had always considered herself a city girl. Grime, noise and seething energy were her natural habitat.
She walked briskly, reached the sprawling complex of the Lincoln Centre and climbed the steps into the main plaza. The great space, surrounded by the palaces of the new American Renaissance, never failed to inspire Masha. She sat on the wall of the fountain in front of the high arches of the Metropolitan Opera. To one side of her was the New York Ballet, to the other the New York Philharmonic. She watched the people who passed by – visitors, artists, lovers; those who had come to dance or sing, and those who had come to be part of the performance.
So many lives, intersecting through the power of art. Sometimes the intersections were momentary, lasting no longer than a single performance; other intersections lasted a lifetime, becoming partnerships, enshrined in memory, perpetuated in beauty, never dying or fading away. At the heart of it all was art, that strange endeavour of the human species, which had no other end than itself, but which brought out the best in a race of beings all too prone to dark deeds.
She was lost in her own thoughts when she heard her name spoken. She looked up. Thomas König was standing in front of her, a tall, slim, grey-haired man in a seersucker suit.
‘Thomas!’ Masha got up and hugged him. ‘How wonderful to see you.’
‘It’s been a long time,’ he said formally. He drew back and studied her with grave, grey-blue eyes. Then the dry landscape of his face was lit by a smile. ‘You never change.’
‘Oh, such nonsense.’ Masha laughed a little breathlessly. ‘You needn’t flatter me. Change comes to us all.’
‘Some change is natural and therefore pleasing,’ he replied.
‘Ah, what tact. I’m so glad you came.’
He looked around. ‘So am I. I’ve never been here before. This place is amazing.’
‘You must be used to amazing sights, Thomas.’
‘True. But this is different.’
‘Yes, I imagine this is different. You didn’t become a watchmaker, after all.’
‘No. I took your advice and went big.’
She took his arm. ‘Will you come with me? I want you to see something.’
The Stravinsky exhibition was well-attended. Masha had taken the precaution of getting two tickets well in advance. They made their way through the crowds who surrounded the collection of photographs, paintings, scores and other original documents from the period of Stravinsky’s association with the New York Philharmonic.
She led him to a glass case, where several pages of a musical manuscript were laid out under soft lighting. At first he wasn’t sure what he was looking at, and then he saw the museum card:
Original Manuscript, Igor Stravinsky ‘Symphony in C’ (1939/1940)
On loan from Masha J. Morgenstern
‘You kept it all these years,’ he said quietly, bending to get a closer look.
‘What should I have done, sell it? No, no. It was a gift, a treasure. A mitzvah. I’ve kept it safe, all my life. It will go to my granddaughter when I am gone. She can trade it for a really good violin.’
‘Is she that talented?’
‘She’s that talented.’
Thomas stared at the scrawled and blotted pages. ‘I remember running to get this from your cabin, the night of the submarine.’
‘Oh, I remember that, too. I will never forget it. There are so many things about that voyage that I will never forget. They’re as fresh in my memory as though they happened yesterday.’
He nodded. ‘For me, too.’
‘There’s something else I’ve treasured all these years. The ticket you gave me to the World’s Fair.’
Thomas laughed. ‘Masha, that’s not quite on the same scale as an original Stravinsky manuscript.’
Her face stayed serious. ‘To me it is. It was also a mitzvah. A gift from the heart that gave me strength when I didn’t want to go on.’
‘To tell you the truth, I was amazed when you showed up at Flushing Meadows.’
‘I would never have failed you. That is another occasion that stands out in my memory as though it happened yesterday.’
‘I remember the smell of onions on your breath,’ he said, almost to himself.
‘What!’
He looked embarrassed. ‘From the hotdog. When you kissed me goodbye.’
‘There are some memories that ought to be suppressed,’ she exclaimed. But she was also touched that he had recalled something so personal and intimate. ‘I always had the feeling that your visit to the World’s Fair didn’t quite live up to your expectations. In more ways than one.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I guess I felt you were disappointed in it.’ She hesitated. ‘And in me.’
‘You couldn’t have been kinder to me.’
‘Oh, I think I could. I could have spared your feelings more.’
He didn’t ask what she meant. ‘I was very sorry to hear that your husband died so young. You never remarried?’
Masha shook her head. ‘I never wanted to. And I had my hands full with Mariam.’
‘Your granddaughter?’
‘Yes. Judith wasn’t really into the whole stay-at-home-Mom thing. She was more interested in self-exploration. She and Mariam’s father separated when Mariam was around five. Judith followed her own course in life for years – ashrams, religious retreats, Buddhist monasteries, artists’ colonies, you name it. She was away in India for nearly two years. Then she went to a commune in New Mexico for another three.’
‘So you were more mother than grandmother?’
‘Effectively.’ Masha held up a slim hand. ‘I don’t want to make Judith sound crazy or anything. They’re a lot closer now. And I loved being there for Mariam, especially after Dale died. He died of a work-related illness, so there was compensation. That meant I could quit my job to be there for Mariam.’
‘That was a big sacrifice.’
‘I never begrudged one moment. Talking of souvenirs, you’ll never guess what Rachel kept all these years: the swastika pin you gave her.’
‘Really?’
‘Really. Her partner Dorothea recently asked her why she kept such an ugly thing. She said it was to remind her not to jump to conclusions about anybody.’
Thomas smiled slightly. ‘That’s a good lesson. To answer your question, I wasn’t disappointed in the World’s Fair. That visit helped me distinguish between fantasy and reality – what was impossible and what could really be achieved. My ideas about technology had come out of comic books. After the World’s Fair, I knew that wonderful things were going to be done, and that I could be part of them. They were just going to be different from what I had dreamed.’
‘But you were disappointed in me.’
He thought for a moment. ‘I would say you also showed me the difference between fantasy and reality. What was a dream and what could really be attained.’
‘That must have been a hard lesson,’ Masha said gently.
‘It needed to be learned.’
‘It’s funny,’ she said, as they moved away from the glass case, ‘the age difference between us now seems irrelevant. Back then, it was unbridgeable.’