第 24 页

'Wladek Koskiewicz, sir.'

The men passed him a big black book. 'Do you know what that is?'

'Yes, sir, the Bible.'

'Do you believe in God?'

'Yes, sir, I do.'

'Put your hand on the Bible, and swear that you will answer our questions truthfully!

Wladek took the Bible in his left hand, placed his right hand on it and said, 'I promise I tell the truth.'

'What is your nationality?'

'Polish.'

'Who paid for your passage here?'

'I paid from my money that I earn in Polish Consulate in Constantinople.'

One of the officials studied Wladek's papers, nodded and then asked, 'Do you. have a home to go to?'

'Yes, sir. I go stay at Mister Peter Novak. He my friend's uncle. He live in New York.'

'Good. Do you have work to go to?'

'Yes, sir. I go work in bakery of Mister Novak!'

'Have you ever been arrested?'

Russia flashed through Wladek's mind. It couldn't count. Turkey - he wasn't going to mention that.

'No, sir, never.'

'Are you an anarchist?'

'No, sir. I hate Communists, they kill my sister!'

'Are you willing to abide by the laws of the United States of America?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Have you any money?'

'Yes, sir.'

'May we see it?'

'Yes, sir.' Wladek placed on the table a bundle of notes and a few coins.

'Thank you,' said the examiner, 'you may put the money back in your pocket.'

The second examiner looked at him. 'What is twenty-one plus twenty-four?'

'Forty-five,' said Wladek, without hesitation.

'How many legs does a cow have?'

Wladek could not believe his ears. 'Four, sir,' he said, wondering if the question was a trick.

'And a horse?'

'Four, sir,' said Wladek still in disbelief.

'Which would you throw overboard if you were out at sea in a small boat which needed to be lightened, bread or money?'

'The money, sir,' said Wladek.

'Good.' The examiner picked up a card marked 'Admitted' and handed it over to Wladek. 'After you have changed your money, show this card to the immigration officer. Tell him your full name and he will give you a registration card. You will then be given an entry certificate. If you do not commit a crime for five years and pass a simple reading and writing examination at the end of that time, you will be permitted to apply for full United States citizenship. Good luck, Wladek.'

'Thank you, sir.'

At the money exchange counter Wladek handed in eighteen months of Turkish savings and the three fifty-ruble notes. He was handed forty-seven dollars twenty cents in exchange for the Turkish money but was told the rubles were worthless. He could only think of Doctor Dubien and his fifteen years of diligent saving.

The final stop was the immigration officer, who was seated behind a counter at the exit barrier directly under a picture of President Harding. Wladek and George went over to him.

'Full name?' the officer said to George.

'George Novak,' replied Jerzy firmly. The officer wrote the name on a card.

'And your address?' he asked.

'286 Broome Street, New York, New York.'

The officer passed George the card. 'This is your Immigration Certificate, 21871-George Novak. Welcome to the United States, George. I'm Polish too. You'll like it here. Many congratulations and good luck.'

George smiled and shook hands 'With the officer, stood to one side and waited for Wladek. The officer stared at Wladek in his long bearskin coat.

Wladek passed him the card marked 'Admitted'.

'Full name?' asked the officer.

Wladek hesitated.

'What's your name?' repeated the man, a little louder, slightly impatient, wondering if he couldn't speak English.

Wladek couldn't get the words out. How he hated that Peasant name.

'For the last time, what's your name?'

George was staring at Wladek. So were others who had joined the queue for the immigration officer. Wladek still didn't speak. The officer suddenly grabbed his wrist, stared closely at the inscription on the silver band, wrote on a card and passed it to Wladek.

'21872-Baron Abel Rosnovski. Welcome to the United States. Many congratulations and good luck, Abel.'

12

William returned to start his last year at St. Paul's in September, 1923, and was elected president of the Senior Class, exactly thirty-three years after his father had held the same office. William did not win the election in the usual fashion, by virtue of being the finest athlete or the most popular boy in the school. Matthew Lester, his closest friend, would undoubtedly have won any contest based on those criteria. It was simply that William was the most impressive boy in the school, and for that reason Matthew Lester could not be prevailed upon to run against him. St. Paul's entered William's name as their candidate for the Hamilton Memorial Mathematics Scholarship at Harvard, and William worked singlemindedly towards that goal during the autumn term.

When William returned to Beacon Hill for Christmas, he was looking forward to an uninterrupted period in which to get to grips with Principia Mathematica. But it was not to be, for there were several invitations to parties and balls awaiting his arrival. To most of them he felt able to return a tactful regret, but one was absolutely inescapable.

The grandmothers had arranged a ball, to be held at the Red House on Louisburg Square. William wondered at what age he would find it possible to defend his home against invasion by the two great ladies and decided the time had not yet come. He had few close friends in Boston, but this did not inhibit the grandmothers in their compilation of a formidable guest list.

To mark the occasion they presented William with his first dinner jacket in the latest double-breasted style; he received the gift with some pretence at indifference but later swaggered around his bedroom in the suit, often stopping to stare at himself in the mirror. The next day he put through a long distance call to New York and asked Matthew Lester to join him for the fateful weekend. Matthew's sister wanted to come as well but her mother didn't think it would be suitable.

William was there to meet him off the train.

'Come to think of it,' said Matthew, as the chauffeur drove them - back to Beacon Hill, 'isn't it time you got yourself laid, William? There must be some girls in Boston with absolutely no taste.'

'Why, have you had a girl, Matthew?'

'Sure, last winter in New York!

'What was I doing at the time?'

'Probably touching up,on Bertrand Russell?'

'You never told me about it.'

'Nothing much to tell. In any case, you seemed more involved in my father's bank than my budding love life. It all happened at a staff party my father gave to celebrate Washington's birthday. Another first for old wooden teeth. Actually, to put the incident in its proper perspective, I was raped by one of the director's secretaries, a large lady called Cynthia with even larger breasts that wobbled when.,.'

'Did you enjoy it?'

"Yes, but I can't believe for one moment that Cynthia did. She was far too drunk to realise I was there at the time. Still. you have to begin somewhere and she was willing to give the boss's son a helping hand?'

The vision of Alan Lloyd's prim, middle-aged secretary flashed across Williams mind.

'I don't think my chances of initiation by the chairman's secretary are very good,' he mused.

'You'd be surprised,' said Matthew knowingly. 'The ones that go around with their legs so firmly together are often the ones who can't wait to get them apart. I now accept most invitations, formal or informal, not that dress matters much on these occasions!'

The chauffeur put the car in the garage while the two young men ran up the steps into William's house.

'You've certainly made some changes since I was last here,' said Matthew, admiring the modern cane furniture and new paisley wallpapers. Only the crimson leather chair remained firmly rooted in its usual spot.

'The place needed brightening up a little.' William offered. 'It was like living in the Stone Age. Besides, I didn't want to be reminded of ... Come on, this is no time to hang around discussing interior decoration?'

'When is everybody arriving for this party?'

'Ball, Matthew, the grandmothers insist on calling the event a ball'

'There is only one thing that can be described as a ball on dime occasions.'

'Matthew, one director's secretary does not entitle you to consider yourself a national authority on sex education!'

'Oh, such jealousy, and from ones dearest friend', Matthew sighed mockingly.

William laughed and looked at his watch. 'The first guest should arrive in a couple of hours. Time for a shower and to change. Did you remember to bring a dinner jacket?'

'Yes, but if I didn't I can always wear my pyjamas. I usually leave one or the other behind, but I've never yet managed to forget both. In fact, it might start a whole new craze if I arrived at the ball in my pyjamas.'

'I can't see my grandmothers enjoying the joke,' said William.

The caterers arrived at six o'clock, twenty-three of them in all, and the grandmothers at seven, regal in long black lace that swept along the floor.

William and Matthew joined them in the front room a few minutes before eight.

William was about to remove an inviting red cherry from the top of a magnificent iced cake when he heard Grandmother Kane's voice from behind him.

'Don't touch the food, William, it's not for you?'

He swung round. 'Then who is it for?' he asked, as he kissed her on the cheek.

'Don't be fresh, William, just because youre over six feet doesn't mean I wouldn't spank you.'

Matthew Lester laughed.

'Grandmother, may I introduce my closest friend, Matthew Lester?'

Grandmother Kane subjected him to a careful appraisal through her pince-nez before venftu-ing: 'How do you do, young man?'

'It's an honour to meet you, Mn, Kane. I believe you knew my grandfather!'

'Knew your grandfather? Caleb Longworth Lester? He proposed marriage to me once, over fifty years ago. I turned him down. I told him he drank too much, and that it would lead him to an early grave. I was right, so don't you drink, either of you; remember, alcohol dulls the brain.'

'We hardly get much chance with Prohibition,' remarked Matthew innocently, 'That will end soon enough, I'm afraid,' said Grundmother Kane, sniffing.

'President Coolidge is forgetting his upbringing. He would never have become President if that idiot Harding hadn't foolishly died.'

William laughed. 'Really, Grandmother, your memory is getting selective. You wouldn't hear a word against him during the police strike.'

Mrs. Kane did not reply, The guests began to appear, many of them complete strangers to their host, who was delighted to see Alan Lloyd among the early arrivals.

'You're looking well, my boy,' he said, finding himself looking up at William for the first time in his life.

'You too, Alan. It was kind of you to come.'

'Kind? Have you forgotten that the invitation came from your grandmothers? I am possibly brave enough to refuse one of them, but both...'

'You too, Alan?' William laughed. 'Can you spare a moment for a private word?' He guided his guest towards a quiet comer. 'I want to change my investment plans slightly and start buying Lester's bank stock whenever it comes on to the market. I'd like to be holding about five per cent of their stock by the time I'm twenty-one.'

"It's not that easy,' said Alan. 'Lester's shares don't come on the market all that often as they are all in private hands, but I'll see what can be done. What is going on in that mind of yours, William?'

'Well, my real aim is..

'William.' Grandmother Cabot was bearing down on them at speed. 'Here you are conspiring in a corner with Mr. Lloyd and I haven't seen you dance with one young lady yet. What do you imagine we organised this ball for?'

'Quite right,' said Alan Lloyd, rising. 'You come and sit down with mr, Mrs. Cabot, and I'll kick the boy out into the world. We can rest, watch him dance, and listen to the music.'

'Music? That's not music, Alan. It's nothing more than a loud cacophony of sound with no suggestion of melody.'

'My dear grandmother,' said William, 'that is "Yes, We Have No Bananas", the latest hit song.'

'Then the time has come for me to depart this world,' said Grandmother Cabot, wincing.

'Never,' Alan Lloyd said gallantly, William danced with a couple of girls whom he had a vague recollection of knowing, but he had to be reminded of their names, and when he spotted Matthew sitting in a corner, he was glad of the excuse to escape the dance floor. He had not noticed the girl sitting next to Matthew until he was right on top of them. When she looked up into William's eyes, he felt his knees give way.

'Do you know Abby Blount?' asked Matthew casually, 'No,' said William, barely restraining himself from straightening his tie.

'This is your host, Mr. William Lowell Kane.'

The young lady cast her eyes demurely downwards as he took the seat on the other side of her. Matthew had noted the look William gave Abby and went off in search of some punch.

'How is it I've lived in Boston all my life, and we've never met,' William said.

'We did meet once before. On that occasion, you pushed me into the pond on the Common; we were both three at the time. It's taken me fourteen years to recover.'

'I am sorry,' said William, after a pause during which he searched in vain for more telling repartee.

"What a lovely house you have, William!'

There was a second busy pause. 'Thank you,' said William weakly. He glanced sideways at Abby, trying to look as though he were not studying her. She was slim - oh, so slim - with huge brown eyes, long eyelashes and a profile that captivated William. Abby had bobbed her auburn hair in the style William had hated until that moment.