Roots of Evil(54)

Alice stared longingly at her reflection. The velvet was soft and sensuous, and the black fur was like a lover’s caress against her neck. If ever there was a Cinderella-setting-off-for-the-ball cloak…

No. She could not afford it. But even after she had laid it back on the counter she went on looking at it, making a swift mental inventory of her resources. Could she perhaps manage it after all? If she bought it, she would have just enough money to pay for her room until the end of the week. What about food? She could buy rye bread and slivers of cheese to eat, that was cheap enough. She might as well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb, and she might as well end up destitute for three costly outfits as for two. She bought the cloak.

Alice Wilson, that well brought-up girl, had never in her life gambled on anything, but now she gambled everything on one single night. She chose the famous Vienna Opera House for the birth of her new self, buying the ticket from a small booth, doing so humbly and politely, letting it be thought she was buying the seat for her mistress. She had never been in the Opera House in her life, but Miss Nina’s family – no! Nina’s family! – had often made up parties for a concert or an opera. Supposing some of them were present tonight? Would they recognize her? What about the brother who had fumbled under her skirts and been pushed away, and had later caused her to be thrown out of the house? Might he be there?

As she carried her parcels and the ticket back to the lodging house her mind was working furiously, planning and calculating. What if this huge gamble failed? If she did not attract people’s attention at the Opera House – if she was not approached by men and women who might open up a different life for her – then she would have wasted all her sordidly acquired money and she would end up back on the streets. But she must not fail.

That night she outlined her lips with the sinful dark red lipstick and her eyes with the black kohl. She brushed her hair into its new smooth shape, and then put on the damson gown. It was completely backless, as was the fashion, and above it her skin was creamy white. It felt depraved to be exposing so much of her body, but it also felt exciting.

There were long silken gloves to wear with the gown; Alice drew them on over her bare arms. They reached to above her elbows, and if the gown had been striking before, the contrast between the rich magenta silk and her bare alabaster shoulders and upper arms made it seem quite immodest. It also, thought Alice, caught between delight and panic, made her look extremely sexy. She contemplated this last word, and the crimson lips curved into a smile in the mirror. She had never thought of herself as sexy before. But she was, she was. If only the man with golden-brown eyes could see her like this—No. Don’t think about him.

She pushed down the ache of loss, swirled the sable-lined cloak around her shoulders, and went out into the badly lit streets. It was a long walk and it was probably quite dangerous to walk through these streets dressed so richly, but she could not afford to do anything else. Once in the prosperous part of the city, where carriages rumbled along the wide streets, and where there were brightly lit windows of restaurants and coffee houses she felt safer, although her mind and her stomach were turning over and over. I’m clad in extravagant striking clothes, and I’m wearing paint on my face and I have dyed my hair. I look absolutely nothing like I have looked for the last eighteen years, and I think this is a night when anything – anything! – might happen to me.

As she walked up the steps and entered the Opera House she had the feeling that she was crossing over some kind of line. This is it, she thought. This is the moment when I’m going to step out of one world and into another. Rubicons and Rivers of Jordan, and valleys of decision and destiny…

She took a deep breath and went inside.



At first the sheer vastness of the Opera House, and the heat and the brilliance, were bewildering, and she felt as if she was walking into a solid wall of light and noise and movement. But she forced herself to appear cool and detached, and after a moment she was aware that several heads had turned to look at her. With curiosity? With disapproval? I don’t mind about the disapproval, thought Alice. I’d mind more if they didn’t notice me.

But they were noticing her. There was a look in the men’s eyes that suggested they were intrigued, and in the women’s that suggested they were annoyed at this stranger for stealing the attention. Alice felt a spurt of delighted triumph. I’m across that invisible threshold and I’m into this new world, and there’s no turning back.

Turning back was the last thing she intended. She remained where she was, looking about her, listening and watching and surreptitiously absorbing it all. This is the time when you must appear very sure of yourself, said her mind, and when you must seem rather disdainful, because you are used to all this, remember. You are used to glittering crowds of people – you even find them a little boring, and perhaps also slightly absurd – and you are used to opulent rooms lit by hundreds of candles. Most of all you are used to the soft perfumed aura of wealth, because you are extremely wealthy yourself. So far so good.

But don’t do anything yet, said this little voice, and above all, don’t go looking for your seat or peering anxiously at your ticket. Wait for someone to approach you to conduct you there. Someone will definitely do so – if you believe that strongly enough it will happen, because if you believe anything strongly enough it will happen.

And above all, pray to that God whom you used to know in the English churches that no one will recognize you and that no one will challenge you and demand that you are thrown out…