“Grey. Snow. Cold. Cosi inospitale.” She stopped and smiled, the question still on her face.
“Maybe you mean dull?”
“How you say?”
“Dull.”
Iris came back to the bench and sat down again. “You teach me German. I teach you italiano. Sì? Desolato. Dull.”
Katharina repeated the words.
“Brava. Very good, Katharina.”
She stood up. “What shall I tell Mrs Hanny?”
Iris looked thoughtful before taking Katharina’s hand in hers. “I tell you not what to do, but Alois not to learn Italian because his mother not want to learn Italian, capisce? You understand? Children know because they feel. You must say nothing to the children. Tell Signora Hanny she need to start by doing her best too. Then, Alois, he follow.”
Jutta would be as easy to melt as a glacier when it came to things Italian. Katharina could not tell Iris this. Instead, she pointed to the wall.
“What does that say there?”
Iris looked cautious. “It says, no speaking of German and no spitting on floor.”
“I won’t be telling Jutta that either.”
The teacher smiled knowingly and patted Katharina’s hand. “I talk to direttore again. I see if he change mind.” She put a hand on Katharina’s arm, and her eyes showed something mischievous. “I glad you come, not Signora Hanny.”
“Why?”
“I know she not like me, and I afraid Signora Hanny come here when Alois go home. I glad it is you who come.”
Katharina laughed a little. “Jutta can sometimes be difficult to deal with, this is true. But she’s an important ally.”
“Ally?”
“Someone you want on your side. A comrade.”
“Compagno! Sì. With Signora Hanny, you must be on right side of fight.”
“Don’t worry, Iris. I will make certain you stay on the correct side.”
***
J utta held Florian’s envelope in her hand and put it up to the steaming pot, then slid her finger beneath the fold. Luck or trouble? That was all she wanted to know. She stopped and dropped the letter to her side.
“What is wrong with me?” she muttered, and stuffed the envelope into her apron pocket.
She heard Eric-Enrico locking up the post office and stepped out of the kitchen to watch him slither up to his room. She sighed when he was out of sight, and greeted the Widow Winkler coming down the stairs.
“Disgusting man,” the old woman grumbled in passing. “Put him out on the street.”
“Not very Christian of you, Widow,” Jutta reprimanded.
The widow peered at her, opened her mouth, closed it, then hobbled out the door without a further word. When Jutta checked on Alois, he was sleeping on the sofa, his glasses halfway up his head, his nose crusted with dried snot. What was she going to do with her child if he could not go back to school? She couldn’t have Alois at the inn with the guests all the time. And obviously she couldn’t count on Sara. She hung her apron on the hook on the door and went to the credenza to pull out the letter from her old school colleague. On the other side of the border, in Austria, maybe, maybe there was an alternative. She read the lines again.
There is a place here, Jutta, for children like Alois. It’s not like the institutions you fear. The people are kind and care for them.
It was tempting. The money she had been saving up for her son, even when Fritz was still around, had grown, but with the inflation and exchange rate, it had lost much of its value. Besides, the institution was on the other side of the border now, and there was very restricted travel. No. There had to be a better way.
The bell rang in the hallway, and Alois stirred. Jutta glanced at him and stuffed her letter back into the drawer. Maybe the school here would take him back. When she stepped out, Katharina was brushing off the snow from her wrap.
“It’s really coming down now, but I don’t think it will last. The foehn wind has already started up again.”
Jutta took Katharina’s wrap and led her into the kitchen. “And?”
Katharina looked regretful. “I think it’s a final decision, though she said she would talk to the director again.”
“And you believe her? She wants Alois back in that class as much as she wants to stay here.”
“Do you know where she’s from?” Katharina asked. “I forgot to ask her.”
“No, and I don’t care.”
“Jutta, if Alois learns a little Italian so that he can follow—”
“Learn Italian? Most of our children don’t even know how to speak the book German correctly, not that I have a problem with that. Especially now, we have to preserve our dialect.”
“Jutta, if they remain illiterate, then the Italians will be able to do what they want with us. We have to help the children prepare to deal with them, and that will only happen if they know the language.”
Her ears felt hot. “If the Viennese help us like they say they will, the Italians won’t be here long enough for that to happen. I can understand you feel obligated to teach Annamarie Italian. Maybe she should know who her real father is someday, but Alois, he won’t be confused. He will know that he comes from, and must function, in a German society, Katharina. German.”
Katharina’s face had flushed. “How could you? Florian is her father. Why should Annamarie know anything about Angelo Grimani?”
“Secrets always get out,” Jutta said. “Always.”
Katharina looked alarmed, and Jutta drew a finger over her lips.
“Not from me.” This reminded Jutta of Florian’s letter. “Wait here. I’ve got the letter for Florian in the apartment.”
She left to fetch the envelope from her apron. In the kitchen again, she found Katharina dressed and ready to go. Jutta glanced at the envelope and wondered whether Katharina suspected what Jutta’s intention had been with it.
“I’m sorry if I offended you with what I’ve said,” Jutta said. “I didn’t mean to bring Angelo up.”
“Mr Grimani.”
Jutta
