The American Lady(127)

For a moment there was silence. Thomas sat down at his workbench again.

“How I feel . . . nobody’s ever asked me that before,” he said at last. He stared down at the wooden worktop, blackened by years of flame. The furrow between his deep-set eyes was even more pronounced than usual. “Ever since I can remember, I’ve sat in this workshop, at this bench. Every day. Earlier, when there were three of us and Father brought in the orders, we worked from morning till night—whether we were blowing a thousand bowls or hundreds of perfume bottles. Sometimes I thought I would go mad if I ever had to blow one more blessed bowl. Always the same thing, over and over again. I had my own ideas; I was never short of those—I filled a whole sketchbook of ideas over time—but nobody ever cared.”

He looked up, but Wanda was still turned away from him, staring out the window.

“Father didn’t want to hear any of that. He didn’t even look at my designs, just said I shouldn’t go wasting time when we could hardly keep up with the work anyway. The other lads in the village never got that: sooner or later they got to make their own things, not like my brothers and me. And then Marie came along with her sketches, and the old man was all smiles and praise!” Thomas sounded as though he still couldn’t believe it. “I almost burst from envy, let me tell you. But did anyone care?” He laughed mirthlessly. “Ah well, those funny ideas of hers didn’t impress him for long; the old stubbornness came back soon enough. We put up with all that but Marie didn’t. She went out and made something of herself! Not like us.”

Wanda found it hard to listen. She had never seen her father like this. She didn’t dare turn around for fear that he would stop talking. At the same time she felt a bit queasy when she heard Marie’s name. If only I knew that there was really nothing to worry about, she thought.

“And when Sebastian left, Michel and I had to do the work of three. And even then nobody asked me how I felt when I could finally get up from my bench after working for fourteen hours straight! After Michel had his accident, I was all on my own, but there was work to be done if we were to put bread on the table. If I’ve learned one thing in all these years, it’s that it’s best not to think about things too deeply. Don’t dwell on the past. Just do what has to be done.”

He got up from his stool, walked over to join Wanda at the window, and looked out as well. She suddenly felt that they were much closer—and not just because he was standing next to her.

“And then you come along and ask a question like that,” he said softly.

“Times change. Believe it or not, sometimes they change for the better,” she murmured hoarsely.

“It felt . . . beautiful,” he said, so softly that for a moment Wanda thought she was imagining it. Her heart began to hammer wildly. Go on. Please go on.

“I’d almost forgotten how glass can stretch that way. But today—today I felt it again. That glass has no limits, really. It’s just us, the glassblowers, who have limits.” He laughed awkwardly. “What rubbish I’m talking!”

“No!” Wanda cried out. She turned to him and said, “I was so worried the glass would burst!”

He smiled, almost tenderly. “That’s the whole trick of it, you see. Knowing when enough is enough.” He stroked her arm clumsily and left the workshop.





24

“She hasn’t been in touch with your mother either,” Johanna said to Wanda as soon as they left the post office. She shook her head. “I just don’t understand it! Never mind that we haven’t had any new designs from her for months now, but she must know that we’re worried about her.”

Johanna stopped dead in the street.

“And that Franco’s no better, if you ask me! It’s no way to behave. What is it, are you even listening to me?” She plucked at Wanda’s sleeve as she walked on.

“What were you saying?” Wanda gave a start. She tried to blink away the tears in her eyes.

“Look at you!” Johanna exclaimed. “What are you crying about?” She put her arm around Wanda’s shoulders tenderly, though, which drew some of the sting from her words.

Wanda burst into tears. “How can she do this to me? Mother’s so cruel!”

She had chosen her words so carefully when she told her mother that she wanted to stay in Lauscha forever. She had lain awake at nights pondering how to break the news and anticipating her mother’s reaction, but what she heard first was the crackle on the line and silence from Ruth’s end. She had been ready for almost anything but silence. After a few moments, Ruth began stammering helplessly. Wanda had never heard her mother like this, though Ruth recovered herself after a couple of minutes. And when she did, there was no use pleading. Ruth was implacable: Wanda could stay for another four weeks, but after that she had to come straight back to New York. After all, she could hardly stay on and be a burden to Johanna any longer!