Free Madame Sousatzka by Bernice Rubens Page A

glasses before. She looked quite a different person in them, and what with the ‘phone call, the tea-reading, and now the glasses, Marcus felt Jenny more and more a stranger.
    He looked quickly around the room for something that was familiar to him. The crumpet plate was empty, the nail varnish had somehow vanished. He looked back at Jenny and the frown folded underneath her glasses removed her once more from him. He soon had the unaccountable feeling that if she was a stranger to him, then perhaps he wasn’t Marcus any more. He quickly looked at the palm of his right hand where it joined the wrist and recognized in the middle the small brown birthmark. Reassured, he stretched out his hand and snatched the glasses from Jenny’s face. She seemed not to notice their removal and continued to stare fixedly into the cup.
    â€˜It’s her,’ she screamed suddenly, ‘it’s Sousatzka. It’s her. I could tell her anywhere.’
    â€˜How can you see her without your glasses?’ Marcus asked, waving them in the air.
    â€˜You don’t need glasses for a vision,’ Jenny said, halfto herself. ‘She’s there. I can see her. Though there are thousands of people around her. Hundreds and hundreds of people. And they’re trying to make her move away, because she’s hiding something. They’re angry,’ Jenny had begun to pant with excitement. ‘Move Sousatzka,’ she shouted, ‘Move. Oh no. Don’t. Please,’ she stuttered.
    â€˜Don’t what?’ Marcus whispered, caught up in her excitement. ‘What’s she doing now?’
    â€˜Yes,’ Jenny went on breathlessly, ‘good heavens, it can’t be. It is, I can see him,’ she went on, rather like an engrossed radio commentator forgetful of his audience.
    â€˜Who can you see?’ Marcus pleaded with her. ‘What’s going on?’
    â€˜Nothing,’ Jenny said, suddenly relaxing in her chair and breathing calmly as if at last exorcised. ‘Nothing. Just a crowd of people like I said, and Madame Sousatzka in the middle.’
    â€˜Was it at my concert?’ Marcus asked eagerly.
    â€˜Maybe it was,’ Jenny was startled, suddenly understanding the meaning of the vision. ‘Marcus,’ she said, leaning forward, ‘how long are you going to go on learning with Madame Sousatzka?’
    The ‘phone rang and Jenny jumped up from her chair. ‘I’m going,’ Marcus said. This wasn’t a regular Friday night at all. ‘I’ll go and play draughts downstairs.’
    Jenny quickly put her hand on his shoulder. Though she was anxious to answer the ‘phone, she was more anxious that Marcus should stay with her. Holding him with one hand, she unhooked the receiver with the other.
    â€˜Hullo?’ she questioned. There was no answer. ‘Hullo,’ she said, again and again, angrily at first, and finally with relief. ‘You see,’ she said, putting the receiver down, ‘There’s no-one there. They must have got the wrong number.’
    Marcus sat down again, though he wasn’t happy with Jenny any more. And why were they all on about Madame Sousatzka all of a sudden? Mr Cordle with his labels, and now Jenny with her vision. He didn’t want them to talk about her any more.
    â€˜I won the two hundred yards breast stroke on Monday,’ he said.
    â€˜Did you, love?’ Jenny was genuinely pleased. ‘Did you get a medal or something?’
    â€˜I got a cup. Maybe I can whip it out of school and bring it to you next Friday. Would you like to see it?’
    â€˜Yes, I’d love to see it. You can have your tea out of it, and I’ll read your tea-leaves,’ she laughed.
    â€˜Jenny,’ Marcus leaned towards her, ‘about those things you saw in my cup. Are they true, I mean, has anything ever come true, what you’ve read, I mean?’
    â€˜Course it does. You haven’t got any