Blanche

Standing outside my aunt’s house, I pulled my flask out of the my inside jacket pocket and took a swig, savoring the smoky heat of the whisky with closed eyes. I had almost dived to the ground at the graveside when a car backfired in the street. Relieved to see that my hands had steadied, I knocked on the front door, took a deep breath and waited. Any social skills I’d possessed had atrophied in the trenches on the Western Front. Dealing with death was easy; attending this reception was not. My father opened the door.

“Hello, my boy,” he said, patting my shoulder in what passed for a show of affection from him.

“Hello, Father,” I said, “How’s Mother holding up?”

The dearly departed was her older brother Frank.

“As well as can be expected,” Father said, shrugging.

I followed him into the large parlor where the family were gathered, murmuring in subdued tones. A hush fell, and heads swiveled as I entered.

My cousin Delphine rushed over to hug me and the conversations resumed.

“Kenneth! I’m so glad you came.”

Delphine, once a stocky, plain little girl, was now a sturdy, plain woman. Her mother had died when she was a baby and Frank’s two maiden sisters Ethel and Kate had moved in to raise her. They sat side by side on the sofa like a pair of crows in their old-fashioned black mourning dresses, beady eyes missing nothing. Delphine’s childhood had not been one of lightness and joy.

“Aunt Ethel, Aunt Kate,” I said, smiling. They nodded stiffly.

A slender woman came over to greet me. Her mourning attire was elegant but appropriate. It served to accentuate her porcelain complexion and slim figure. She looked vaguely familiar but I could not place her.

“Blanche, my cousin Kenneth. Kenneth, Father’s grieving widow, Blanche,” said Delphine, looking dumpier and surlier than ever.

Blanche flushed as Delphine turned her back and walked away. She looked up at me, earnest brown eyes swimming with tears.

“Oh, dear. I had hoped we could bury the hatchet for today at least. I am afraid Delphine was not pleased that her father and I found happiness. I am sorry we are meeting under these circumstances, but welcome.”

I blinked. It was news to me that Frank had married. He had been in his seventies and Blanche looked younger than me.

“I am sorry,” I said, at a loss for words.

My mother appeared at my side.

“Kenneth! How are you? You’ve lost weight. We need to feed you up.”

She pulled me towards the table where a lavish spread had been laid out. I filled a plate and sat down beside her in the corner of the room.

“Mother, why didn’t you tell me that Frank got married?”

“We didn’t find out ourselves until a month ago. I sent a letter to you in France, but you must have left before it arrived.”

“How did he die?” I asked.

“According to Blanche, he fell downstairs and hit his head. Dr. Peters thinks he may have had a stroke.”

“According to Blanche?” I said, looking across the room at her.

“She was the only one there when it happened. Frank never regained consciousness,” said Mother.

“I know where I’ve seen her,” I said triumphantly. “Blanche, I mean. The theater. She was performing in a show there.”

“Keep your voice down, dear,” Mother said, looking around. “It’s been quite a scandal. Let’s have lunch tomorrow and we can talk.”

The following day I met Mother and Delphine for lunch at an elegant restaurant we used to frequent before the war. The waiters were all very old or very young, but otherwise little had changed. Gaston, the maître d, looking weary, welcomed us.

“My condolences on your loss,” he said, opening a bottle of wine. “I am afraid our menu options are still limited…rationing, you understand.”

“It’s fine, Gaston,” said Mother. “Please bring whatever you think best.”

“Well, spill the beans,” I said. “What happened?”

“She happened,” said Delphine. “Father lost his head over her and she knew a meal ticket when she saw one. She might look demure, but she’s a cold-blooded schemer.”

“How did they meet? I know she was an actress, so they didn’t exactly move in the same social circles.”

Mother cleared her throat, looking embarrassed.

“It’s alright, Aunt Gladys,” said Delphine. “I’m not a naïve little girl anymore. Father liked going to the theater and he had various lady friends over the years there. He tried to be discreet, but it wasn’t a secret. No one cared much, till Blanche ensnared him. He was getting a little senile towards the end.”

“Has the will been read?” I asked after we were served.

“Yes, indeed,” snorted Delphine. “It’s very interesting that Father updated his will right before they married. The house is to be sold, and she gets the money. Luckily, I have a trust fund from my mother, or I’d be destitute. Aunt Kate and Aunt Ethel get small annuities, but they’ll have to find somewhere else to live.”

“You can stay with us for as long as you like,” said Mother, patting Delphine’s hand. “I’d invite Kate and Ethel too, but I don’t think your father could take it.”

“What are you planning to do now that you’re out of the army, Kenneth?” said Delphine.

“Your father would be happy to have you take up a position at the bank with him,” said Mother, gazing at me hopefully.

I smiled and shrugged.

“That wouldn’t be a good idea. Father and I would butt heads,” I said. “Some chaps I know have got a few ideas. The car business, for example. The horse and buggy era is well and truly over. I’ll find something.”

Gaston creaked over to our table with dessert and coffee. I excused myself and stepped outside for a cigarette and a swallow from my flask while Mother and Delphine gossiped about family and friends. I was reaching the end of my tolerance for polite company.

Mother looked me over as I returned. I tried to smile blandly.

“Being home must feel so strange to you, dear,” she said. “Delphine and I did some nursing. I heard a lot of stories from those young lads.”

“It’s hard to explain,” I said, staring into the distance. “When you’re there, either bored out of your mind or terrified out of your wits, in all the mud and blood, all you can think of is getting home. Now that the initial excitement of returning in one piece is over, I’m not sure where I fit. But enough gloomy thoughts. If you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment. One of those job possibilities.”

I kissed them both and we parted ways.

The streets were grey and drab, and people seemed worried and preoccupied, with thin, pinched faces. Here and there veterans sat on street corners holding out cans, begging. So much for a land fit for heroes. I found myself scanning the sky, and watching traffic, alert for danger. Checking to see I wasn’t being followed, I dodged down unfamiliar streets and into a seedy pub. Ordering a large whisky, I sat down, back to the wall, closed my eyes and took some deep breaths until I felt calmer.

“Don’t mind if I sit here till my friend arrives, do you, love?” said a voice. “Creeps like to bother a girl waiting alone.”

I looked up to see a woman with garish red hair sitting across the table from me. She was wearing a ratty-looking fur coat and too much makeup.

“Well, I …of course not,” I said, flustered.

She smiled and I tried not to recoil at her discolored teeth.

“You don’t recognize me, do you?”

“Blanche!” I said. “You might have warned me you were going to show up in disguise."

“Well, it wouldn’t do for a respectable widow to be talking to a man in a place like this, would it?” she said. “Lucky I hadn’t forgot my theater skills."

I lit a cigarette and pushed the pack over to her.

"The thing is," I said, staring at her through narrowed eyes. "I know you as Zara."

She lit up, blew a plume of smoke and shook her head, smiling.

"I couldn't believe it when you walked in at the funeral. I don’t know how I kept a straight face.”

“Mother and Delphine told me the house is to be sold and that you get the money,” I said. "Naturally they're not best pleased. They would be even more unhappy if I told them that Blanche was Zara ... or whoever you really are."

"So, what do you want?" she said. "You weren't in the will. We could come to an arrangement."

"Uncle Frank and I weren't particularly close," I said. "By the way, what really happened to him? Was it an accident or ..."

“Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies. Just know that the old fool died happy.”

Raising her glass, she fluttered her eyelashes at me.

"You and I had some fun times,” she said. “The world’s our oyster. I fancy the south of France myself. What do you think? You're at a loose end. Come along for the ride."

“That sounds fine to me,” I said, stubbing out my cigarette.

“You’d better go now. We shouldn't be seen together. I’ll be in touch when the time’s right," she said.

I glanced back as I left the pub. She had pulled out a compact and was powdering her nose. I caught a glimpse of her expression in the mirror. There was a hard, feral gleam in her brown eyes. Delphine’s description of her as a cold-blooded schemer crossed my mind. As if clairvoyant, she gave me an adoring look and a discreet little wave. I nodded in return, making a mental note to proceed with caution.