The Devil's Opera(161)
“I…I think I would like that, please.”
Herr Hoch smiled again. “Good. I will bring you a contract in less than an hour. After you sign it, then I will remove the money for safekeeping. Meanwhile, you should take a little of that to keep with you for immediate needs.”
“I will see to that, dear,” Frau Fickler said.
“Very good,” Herr Hoch said, standing. “I will bring the contract back shortly.”
The older woman began gathering the money and placing it back in the bag. She set a very small stack of USE bills, some pfennigs, and an empty purse in front of Ursula.
“This will be your daily money, my dear.”
Ursula spent some few moments tucking the money into the purse. Finally she looked up, to see the other two women looking at her with smiles.
“Thank you for your help, Frau Fickler.” Ursula looked down at the purse clutched in her two hands, and fought back tears.
“What’s wrong, my dear?” Frau Marie’s face now showed concern. Margarethe came and sat on the other side of Ursula.
“My brother fought to get that money, to provide for me. But I would give it all just to know he is safe.”
A single tear trickled down Ursula’s cheek as her two new friends moved in to comfort her.
* * *
The final climactic chords crashed to an end. Franz brought his baton down in the final cutoff, and the music stopped. The dress rehearsal performance of Arthur Rex was completed.
There was a moment of silence, Amber stood up and walked up the aisle, clapping as she did so.
“Bravo!” Amber called out. “Bravo!”
The chorus on stage began to clap and stomp and whistle. Amber let them blow off some steam, but after a minute or so, she stuck her fingers between her teeth and blew a sharp shrill whistle of her own. In a few seconds, there was perfect quiet.
“Great job today, kids. Absolutely great. You, too, gentlemen,” she said, looking over at Franz and the orchestra. Franz nodded in return.
Amber turned back to the stage.
“Okay, one last reminder. Here’s tomorrow’s drill: backstage and technical team here at 3:00 o’clock tomorrow afternoon. Soloists here at 3:30 for makeup. Chorus here at 4:30 for makeup. Musicians here at 5:00. Everyone in costume by 5:30, everyone in place by 5:45, overture starts at 6:00. That right, Frau Ballauf?”
“Yes, Frau Higham,” the stage manager responded from the side. “And use the back door, everyone.”
“Got that?” Amber looked at the assemblage.
“Yes, Frau Amber,” came the chorused response.
“Great. Now go hang the costumes up, and show up tomorrow sober and not hung-over.”
The performers began to disperse, chattering loudly.
Amber wrapped her arms around herself and watched them go. This was really going to happen, she thought to herself. They had pulled it off.
Now, if only Herr Schardius would go away. She could feel his eyes on her back, and it made her itch.
* * *
It had been a long day for Simon Bayer. He had trudged over all of the Altstadt and most of the Neustadt and a lot of the exurb looking for Hans, with no luck in finding him.
Simon’s feet hurt; he was tired, thirsty, and hungry. He was also sick at heart. He didn’t know what Hans was up to, but ever since the fight last night he was worried for his friend.
As the sun started to approach the western horizon, Simon went to Frau Zenzi’s to sweep, as he did every day. The good frau tried to talk to him a couple of times, but he didn’t say much in response. She finally gave up and gave him a roll and a hug around the shoulders when he finished.
Simon sat down on the building steps and nibbled on his roll. Even though his stomach was empty, the bread tasted like ashes to him. When Schatzi made an appearance, he gave her the whole roll.
He smiled briefly as she gulped the bread down, then looked at him with her head tilted and her tail wagging a little.
“Sorry, girl,” he said, showing an open hand, “no more.”
Tonight, very unusually, the dog didn’t trot off, but continued to stare at him. Simon looked at her, and whispered, “Where is Hans, Schatzi? Do you know?”
At that exact moment, Schatzi shook all over, sneezed, and moved on down the street.
“I guess that means ‘No.’”
Simon stood, dusted off the seat of his pants with his left hand, made sure his right was firmly in its pocket, and started walking down the street.
“Hey, Simon!”
His head whipped around at the shout in momentary expectation of Hans. The next moment those expectations crashed, as he saw it was Lieutenant Chieske and Sergeant Hoch in a police cart.
“C’mon, kid, climb aboard.”
Lieutenant Chieske held down a hand. Simon grabbed it and was pulled up into the cart.