A House in London, Page 2

  “Um, sure,” Jennifer said, as she followed Vivian up to the house's next level. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Mr. Diebold struggling to keep up, and as their eyes met she couldn't shake the feeling that there was a hint of great worry in the old man's expression, as if there was something he hadn't had a chance to tell her yet.

  “You'll love Ivan,” Vivian continued, leading Jennifer along the corridor at the top of the stairs. “Everyone always says that Ivan is the most wonderful boy they ever saw! And he is, you know. There's nobody quite like my little Ivan!”

  II

  “This house is an absolute maze,” Vivian explained with a theatrical sigh as she led Jennifer toward the door at the corridor's far end. Dark green wallpaper lined either side, and a strong scent of incense hung in the air. “It's far too big for just the two of us, but we make do as best we can. Arthur would never dream of giving the place up, of course. Family honor, and all that tiresome tripe that men so adore.”

  “And how old is the -”

  “Six months,” Vivian replied, interrupting her. “Ivan is six happy months old. I know, it's hard to believe I could have got my figure back so quickly, but I suppose I was just lucky. People constantly tell me that I don't look like a new mother, which of course I take as the highest possible compliment. A baby can do such wretched things to one's body, but that doesn't mean one must just sit back and become an unsightly blob, does it? There is such a thing as personal pride!”

  “Um...”

  “I swore I would maintain a life outside the house after my child was born,” Vivian continued, “and that is precisely what I have done. A baby should be a blessing, not a curse. That said -” She stopped suddenly as they got to the door at the corridor's far end, causing Jennifer to almost clatter into her. “That said,” she continued, turning to Jennifer with a hint of tears in her eyes, “I must be honest with you. The day little Ivan was born was by far, and without any doubt whatsoever, the happiest of my life. You don't have children of your own, I take it?”

  “Um... No. No, I don't.”

  “So young, still,” Vivian purred, reaching out and running a finger against the side of Jennifer's face. “Such beautiful soft skin. When you finally do have offspring of your own, my dear, you will find that your life is changed in ways you can't possibly imagine. A child is more than a blessing, a child is an awakening and a strengthening and a...” She paused, clearly struggling to find the right words. Her finger lingered on Jennifer's cheek for a moment longer, before she moved it away. “I am a different person now that I'm Ivan's mother,” she continued calmly. “I feel as if the entire world has blossomed, and a little hint of life's meaning has been revealed to me. I would not go back to my old, childless existence, for all the money in the world.” She paused again, with more tears in her eyes. “And to think, five years ago I hit forty and feared I was sliding into sterile old age, yet now I have the most beautiful little boy in the whole world.”

  “I'm so happy for you,” Jennifer replied, as she heard Mr. Diebold still limping to catch up to them. “Is he... Is this Ivan's room?”

  “Just wait until you meet him,” Vivian grinned, opening the door. “This is our first time leaving him alone with someone, but I'm sure you'll get on swimmingly.”

  “Wait!” Mr. Diebold called out. “Miss Griffith, before you go in there, I must -”

  “Oh leave the poor girl alone,” Vivian said with a dismissive sigh, stepping into the darkened room and flicking a switch on the wall. “Stop fussing, Arthur.”

  As the lights flickered to life above, Jennifer followed Vivian into the room and saw that it was the most beautiful nursery, with murals all over the walls and a huge, neat pile of toys arranged on several shelves covering the farthest wall. Again, she felt it was the kind of nursery she'd always fantasized about as a child, when she'd dreamed of owning such a grand house. In the center of the room, a white crib stood waiting, with a large mobile hanging above depicting the moon and stars along with a small rocket ship. This was, without a doubt, the nursery of a child who had everything.

  Vivian rushed over and cooed as she looked down into the crib, and Jennifer couldn't help smiling as she saw the pure delight and happiness on the older woman's face.

  “There aren't many things you need to know while we're out,” Vivian continued after a moment, wiping her eyes as she hurried to one of the shelves and picked up a fluffy toy tiger. “This is his favorite,” she explained, grinning with tear-filled eyes as she held the tiger up and then went back over to place it gently in the crib. “The tiger's name is Sir Henry, and if my darling little boy ever cries, Sir Henry is bound to bring a grin to his face.” Leaning down into the crib, she muttered a few words of baby-talk before glancing at Jennifer and smiling. “So many toys, and yet the only one he actually cares about is this cheap, tatty old tiger. Just fancy that!”

  “I was the same when I was a little girl,” Jennifer told her.

  “I bet you were,” Vivian replied, making her way back to the shelves. Sniffing back the last of her tears, she seemed momentarily lost in thought as she began sorting through the other toys. “There's a stuffed squirrel somewhere,” she muttered. “He loves the squirrel too, although I'm not sure where it is right now...”

  Taking a step forward, Jennifer began to approach the crib. She'd heard no sound from the baby so far, which she took as a good sign, since some of the children she'd looked after in the past had been bawlers from start to finish. Still, she always liked meeting a new baby and getting to know them. As she got closer to the crib, however, she began to realize that there was no sign of movement between the white wooden slats, and when she finally reached the side and looked inside, she saw the stuffed tiger, and a set of beautiful white sheets, but no baby.

  “Oh here he is!” Vivian squealed suddenly, her voice filled with excitement.

  Turning, Jennifer saw her hurrying over with a stuffed squirrel and placing it carefully in the empty crib.

  “We can't go losing Mr. Nutty Nuts, now can we?” Vivian continued, staring down at the sheets with a smile of maternal love. There were fresh tears in her eyes, too, which she dabbed with a tissue, and her bright red lips were pulled tight in a broad grin. “If Ivan cries and Sir Henry and Mr. Nutty Nuts don't cheer him up,” she added, turning to Jennifer, “you'll just have to experiment with the others, but I shouldn't think it'll get to that stage. Ivan really is the most delightful child and I'm sure he'll be no trouble at all. You'll barely hear a peep out of him all evening, although obviously he might miss Mama just a little!”

  Jennifer opened her mouth to ask why the crib was empty, before looking over at the door and seeing a hint of great sadness in Mr. Diebold's eyes. In that moment, she began to realize that she was caught in the middle of some deeper tragedy that was playing out in the house, and she felt the weight of sadness in her chest.

  “Oh, but look at me,” Vivian continued, wiping her eyes and then hurrying to the door. “I'm such a doting mother, but I know I must tear myself away from time to time.” She glanced back toward the crib. “Good night, my little sweetheart!” she called out. “Mama will be home before you know it, and in the meantime this delightful young lady will take very good care of you.” She paused for a moment, with her eyes still fixed on the crib. “Be good now,” she added finally, as if she could hardly bear to leave. “Don't cause any mischief while Mama's out! Be a well-behaved little gentleman for the delightful Miss Griffith.”

  “Go on, my dear,” Mr. Diebold said, taking his wife's arm and gently turning her away from the room. “You must put your coat on.”

  “Yes,” Vivian stammered, seemingly a little lost for a moment. “Yes, I must.”

  With that, she muttered something else under her breath and then hurried away, leaving Jennifer and Mr. Diebold to stand in hushed silence until the sound of tottering high heels faded into the distance.

  Jennifer stared down at the empty crib for a moment longer, before turning to the o
ld man.

  “I...” she started to say, struggling to find the right words. “I mean, I'm not... I don't quite...”

  “Ivan died three days after he was born,” Mr. Diebold replied, swallowing hard. “That was six months ago now, but I'm afraid my wife never...” He paused, staring at the crib as if for a moment he was remembering the child. “It's so hard to come to terms with the death of a baby,” he continued finally, limping across the room until he joined Jennifer next to the crib, “especially one who was so keenly anticipated.” He looked down at the empty sheets for a moment, and at the two stuffed animals. “My wife isn't insane, Miss Griffith, let me assure you of that. It's simply that she was so desperate for us to start a family, and she looked forward to the birth so very much, and for the first few days while Ivan was still with us she was the most tremendous whirlwind of motherly devotion. Truly, I cannot imagine seeing anyone happier. And then when Ivan passed away so suddenly, poor Vivian was...”

  His voice trailed off.

  “Sometimes,” he muttered finally, “it takes one a little longer to recognize reality than perhaps it should.”

  “I'm so sorry,” Jennifer replied finally, close to tears. “I... I still don't quite understand...”

  “Vivian and I are going to see some friends tonight,” Mr. Diebold continued, turning to her, “and unfortunately my wife... She hasn't quite faced the truth yet. She will eventually, I'm sure of that, but right now I can't bear to force the issue so I'm afraid I rather allow her to live in this... One might call it a fantasy, perhaps. Believe me, it was hard enough to persuade her to leave the house tonight, and I could only do so on the condition that we hire a babysitter to look after...” He sighed. “This must seem frightfully unusual, but I hope you can humor us. I also hope you can refrain from discussing the situation with outsiders. My wife is so very frail and tender, despite her outward appearance. She just needs a little more time before she can accept that Ivan is no longer with us. Time will heal her, I'm certain of that.”

  Staring down into the crib, Jennifer tried to find the right words. She'd been so relieved to get the babysitting job, and so nervous about entering such a splendid house, and it had never occurred to her that she was walking into the midst of such tragedy. The Diebolds had seemed to have such a perfect life.

  “Your payment,” Mr. Diebold muttered suddenly, reaching into his pocket and taking out a bundle of cash. “I think we agreed, did we not, on -”

  “I really can't take your money,” Jennifer replied, interrupting him. “Sir, I think maybe I should leave...”

  At this suggestion, the old man seemed gripped by panic. “No! You mustn't!”

  “I can't take money for watching a baby that isn't here,” she continued, stepping back from the crib. “It wouldn't feel right. I came to babysit, but if there's no baby...”

  “I appreciate your principled stance,” he replied hurriedly, keeping his voice low so as not to be overheard, “but this is a special situation and you must try to understand. Really, you must!”

  “I'm so sorry,” she told him, turning and heading to the door, “but -”

  “Do it for me,” he called after her. “Please, I'm begging you.”

  Stopping in the doorway, she paused for a moment before turning back to look at him. She wanted nothing more than to keep going, to get out of the house and run home, and to pretend that she had never encountered this strange old couple or heard their pitiful story. At the same time, her heart was already breaking for their predicament, and in Mr. Diebold's watery eyes she saw a trace of great desperation.

  “My wife and I need this,” he continued, still holding the cash in his trembling hands. “We need one normal night outside the house. Just one night! I'm convinced it'll be enough to start resetting Vivian's mind. If you leave, however, we shan't be able to find another babysitter at such short notice, so we shall have to spend yet another night here rattling around in the house, and my wife...” There were definitely tears in his eyes now, as he glanced down at the crib for a moment and then turned back to Jennifer. “I need to take my wife out of the house, if only for a few hours, so I can show her that the rest of the world still exists. Perhaps I'm being foolishly optimistic, but I keep telling myself that if I do this, she'll start to improve. I'm rather lost, Miss Griffith, and this is the best idea I have at the moment. I've tried everything else!”

  “You want me to babysit a baby who isn't here?” Jennifer asked cautiously, still aghast at the idea but feeling unable to abandon the old man.

  “How much did we agree upon, again?” he asked as he started counting the money. “One hundred and fifty pounds for the evening, I believe. Well, here...” He held the entire bundle of notes out for her to take. “In actual fact, I have three hundred pounds here, and if you could see it in your heart to stay for the evening, I would like you to have it all. I can even withdraw some more while we're out. Money is no issue, I assure you.”

  Staring at the bundle, Jennifer seemed too stunned to answer.

  “I can't take your money for this,” she told him finally. “I just... I can't. It wouldn't feel right.”

  “Please.”

  She shook her head.

  “You're a good person,” he continued. “I can see it in your eyes. You have morals, and not everyone is like that, not in the world as it stands today. I know there is an element of deception in this whole arrangement, and believe me, I abhor deception to my core. I should have been honest with you over the telephone, but I feared you'd be like all the others and you wouldn't come once you learned the truth. Please, I beg of you, stay so that my wife will agree to come out of the house with me for a few hours. We shall be back no later than midnight, I promise. I beg you to do this for me. I will give you anything in the world, but please, I implore you to stay!”

  In the distance, a car horn could briefly be heard outside.

  “Are you coming, dear?” Vivian called up to them from downstairs. “The taxi is here!”

  “Please,” Mr. Diebold whispered. “Please help me. I'll give you anything you want in return. Just name it.”

  “I won't take your money,” Jennifer said finally. She knew what she had to do, even though she hated the idea of staying in the house. “I can't, it wouldn't be right, but...” She glanced back at the crib for a moment, and then she turned to him as she realized that she had no choice. “I can stay,” she told him. “Sure. It's no problem. You should take your wife out and have a nice evening. Don't worry, I'll sit around here until you get back.”

  “I insist that you let me pay you,” he replied, clearly relieved. “Please, I know how young people struggle in the world today, you must take the money. Do you not need it?”

  She paused, and then finally she let him slip the cash into her hands. She immediately felt dirty, and after looking down at the notes for a moment, she counted a few out and then passed the rest back to him.

  “One hundred and fifty,” she said, “as we agreed on the phone. I won't take a penny more. I wouldn't even take this, but... Well, my rent is due on Monday, and I'm already a bit close to the bone.”

  “If there is any other way I can ever help you,” he continued earnestly, “you must not hesitate to ask.”

  “I'm fine,” she told him, slipping her night's pay into her pocket. “I can't take any more than we agreed. I'd feel like I was taking advantage. After all, it's not like sitting around in a house is very demanding. It'll just be...” She paused as she spotted the empty crib, and for a moment a shudder passed through her chest.

  “We mustn't keep them waiting!” Vivian called out suddenly. “Nothing's wrong up there, is it?”

  “No, my darling!” Mr. Diebold replied, while keeping his eyes fixed firmly on Jennifer, as if he expected her to change her mind. “I'll be right down!”

  After leading Jennifer out of the room, he switched off the lights and then pulled the door shut.

  “You needn't go in there while we're gone,” he told her, as th
ey made their way back along the corridor. “You must take anything you want from the refrigerator, and from the drinks cabinet as well, and of course you absolutely must make yourself at home. You'll find that we have a rather wonderful library, even if I do say so myself, and there is a television in the games room if you prefer that kind of entertainment. Oh, and I have a magnificent pool table. I'm afraid we don't have the internet or any of those fancy gadgets that most people enjoy, but you strike me as the kind of young lady who will be able to entertain herself for a few hours.”

  “Of course,” she replied, forcing a smile so as not to concern the old man with her doubts. “Don't worry about me.”

  “And if my wife should ask when we get back...” He seemed hesitant for a moment. “I'm not asking you to lie, Miss Griffith, but I would appreciate it if you'd not say anything to upset my wife or contradict her understanding of the situation. If she asks how Ivan has been, I would be most grateful if you could simply tell her that the evening passed without incident. I do so loathe deception, but...”

  His voice trailed off.

  “I understand,” she told him as they made their way down the spiral staircase, past the chandelier that hung from the ceiling.

  In the hallway below, the front door stood wide open, letting the sounds of the loud city street into the house. A moment later Vivian hurried back inside, wrapped in a luxurious fur coat and with a small purse dangling wildly from her right arm.

  “There you are,” she called up to them with an amused sigh. “Come, Arthur, you know what Nicholas and Bianca are like if we're even slightly tardy. We should be okay, though, provided the traffic isn't too bad, although God knows we'll get it in the neck if we're delayed, regardless of whether or not it's our fault. Nicholas will go on and on and on. That man does so love the sound of his own voice.”