This had gone beyond a cry for compassion and charity. This had been a plea for clemency of the soul. Craig recognized it as such, and knew that he could not condemn her to a lifetime in purgatory.
‘I’m sorry, Lee, you know I am. I forgive you, of course. If I were a judge, I’d simply say-I sentence you to yourself. There are worse things.’ He paused. ‘You do know who you are now, don’t you, Lee?’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘It’s not so bad being Leah Decker, person, if you will be true to her. Do as I’ve told you. Go to Chicago, and go to that man Beazley. He’s waiting. Enjoy what he has to offer and what you can be. Yes, Lee, I forgive you and wish you well, I truly do. We’ve both lost Harriet, and we needn’t forget her, but it’s no use living any longer with a ghost. One day, when it is all forgotten, I think we might be friends.’
‘I want to be friends, Andrew. I’ll need that.’
‘All right, then. We’ll both say farewell to Harriet. She had her time on earth. Let’s enjoy what is left of ours. I don’t know if we can any more, but let’s try. Shall we?’
‘Yes, Andrew.’
‘Good-bye, Lee.’
‘Good-bye.’
She backed off, and ran to her room. Craig sighed, lifted the receiver, and asked for the portier’s desk.
It was 12.26 in the afternoon.
Emily Stratman, invigorated by the sharp, white winter’s day, came back to her uncle’s suite breathless. She had taken a taxi from Kungsgatan, repeatedly consulting her wristwatch. At the portier’s desk, accepting her key, she had been impatient when the clerk delayed her to report that there had been three urgent telephone calls for her uncle in the last half-hour, but no messages. ‘The party was most insistent,’ the portier had said. ‘He wanted to know when you or Professor Stratman would return.’ Emily had hesitated a moment. ‘Are you sure Professor Stratman isn’t in? He intended to be.’ Then she had dismissed it, and started for the elevator, calling back. ‘I suppose something came up. Anyway, I’m here, so put his calls through to me.’ In the elevator, she had chafed at its slowness, then hurried down the corridor, fearful that she would miss Craig’s telephone call.
But now she was here on time, in fact with several minutes to spare. She dropped her gift parcels on the entry table, lifted a foot to push off one of the overshoes she had borrowed, and then the other, both still wet from the snow, and thinking all the time of what she had done and what might come of it.
She had sent the message to Craig this morning, on an impulse born of the meeting with Lilly at Nordiska Kompaniet. For hours in bed the night before, she had lain awake, examining what Lilly had told her, examining her own life and character, examining her feelings towards Craig. Eventually she had slept, but by breakfast, she had known that she must see Craig once more. Nothing could come of it, she knew, but her affection for him was too great to allow their memories of each other to recall only the last meeting. He deserved more of her, and it was necessary that she explain herself to him. She would not reveal all of herself. That would be impossible. She never had to anyone, not even Uncle Max, and she never would in her life. But she would try to communicate something of it, some part, to Craig, so that he would know why she had acted as she had, and why she could never go on with him.
She had not sent for him immediately in the morning because she had wanted to be by herself, in the clear air, on the snow-lined pavements, to sort out her thoughts and decide what she must say to Craig. Shopping had been the lesser activity, the self-subterfuge, and so she had walked and absently shopped and given her memory rare freedom. Now she was ready.
Going into the sitting-room, unbuttoning her coat, the possibility arose that Craig might not call her at all. Perhaps he had not received her message. Or, perhaps he wanted no more of her. The last could be, but she did not seriously believe it. In any case, his curiosity would make him respond. That, and also the fact that he was a gentleman.
For the first time, she saw the note propped against the lamp on the end table, where the sitting-room telephone also rested. The handwriting was familiar:
Had to suddenly go out to a business lunch. See you soon. Room service says your gown will be back at 3. Love, UNCLE MAX.
It surprised Emily that Uncle Max had gone out. When she had left to shop, he was still clumping about in his faded woollen robe and bedroom slippers. He intended, he had said, to spend the entire day resting and relaxing, so that he would have all his strength for carrying the medallion and diploma from the King. It was terrible, she decided now, the way the Swedes gave him no rest, a man of his years. But today was the last day of it, and then there would be fewer obligations.
Inevitably, her mind went out to Craig. Anxiety mounted. It was 12.29. He should be calling her any second.
And then the telephone on the end table rang.
She snatched up the receiver, but tried to keep her tone calm. ‘Hello?’
‘Miss Emily Stratman, please?’ It was not Craig’s low, mellifluous voice, but a thin high Swedish voice.
‘This is Miss Stratman-’
‘Miss Stratman? Do not be alarmed. I call for Professor Max Stratman. At lunch, he suffered from the effects of a mild heart attack.’
‘Heart attack? Oh, no-’
‘Do not worry, Miss Stratman. He is in the best hands. He is having medical attention this moment.’
‘What happened? How is he? Is it serious?’
‘A mild coronary, Miss Stratman. He has asked-’
‘Who is this? Where is he?’
‘I am one of the attending physicians-Dr. Öhman-and Professor Stratman is now resting easily. He has asked to see you. I think it would be wise if you-’
‘Where? Tell me where. I’ll be right over.’
‘If you will be so kind as to write this down-’
‘Wait-wait-’
Blindly, she sought for her pen in her coat, then remembered that it was in her handbag, and she found it and returned to the phone.
‘Go ahead-please hurry-’
‘Take a taxi to Sahlins Sjukhus. It is a small private clinic on the way to the Southern Hospital-two blocks before, on Ringvägen. Your driver will know exactly. I will be waiting for you.’
‘I’ll leave immediately.’
‘Miss Stratman-one point more. Professor Stratman reminds me it is imperative that you mention this emergency to no one. He is most desirous of avoiding publicity. I believe you understand.’
‘Tell him not to worry!’
She hung up, tore off the bottom of Uncle Max’s note, where she had written the name of the clinic, clasped her handbag tightly, and rushed to the door. As she reached it, the telephone began to ring again. She knew this was Craig, but could not wait to explain-and remembered that her uncle wanted no one to know-and she let the phone continue its monotonous peal, and kept going, half running, to the elevator.
When she emerged from the hotel lobby, almost falling on the slippery pavement, she started to call for a taxi, but at once a small Volvo with a meter drew up before her. She hurried inside it, as the uniformed doorman saluted her and closed the car door.