Magic in Vienna. Betty Neels

other in their hands, found themselves caught up in a cheerful group of passengers. It was a pity, thought Cordelia that they weren’t sharing a table with one or two other people, but Lady Trescombe, while perfectly civil to everyone, had no intention of getting involved in any but the most transitory of conversations. The three of them dined at a window table and since by then it was quite late, went to their cabins afterwards.

      The sound of the river water under their window was very soothing, Cordelia was asleep within minutes of putting her head on the pillow.

      The pair of them were up early and up on deck before many of the passengers were awake. It was chilly but fine and they hung over the side admiring the magnificent scenery, planning their day. They were to go ashore and see the little town of Durnstein after lunch and a good part of the morning would be taken up with getting tickets for their various trips ashore. And since everything was strange and the scenery changed at every bend of the river, Cordelia thought it unlikely that Eileen would be bored.

      They went down to breakfast presently; Lady Trescombe had declared that she would breakfast in her cabin and didn’t wish to be disturbed until after that; they ate their meal unhurriedly, exchanging small talk with the occupants of the tables nearby while Eileen speculated about her stay with Uncle Charles.

      The child was worried guessed Cordelia, and did her best to calm her down a little. ‘Look Eileen,’ she coaxed, ‘would it be a good idea to forget your Uncle Charles until we get to Vienna? There’s such a lot to do before then. I don’t believe he’ll be half as bad as you think.’

      Eileen frowned. ‘It’s all very well for you, Cordelia.’ She tossed her head. ‘Mummy says I’m a high spirited child and mustn’t be thwarted; I bet Uncle Charles thwarts me.’

      ‘Why should he? And you’re not going to be there for ever, you know.’

      ‘If he won’t let you stay, I shall run away.’

      ‘In that case, I’ll have to stay, won’t I?’ Cordelia sounded matter-of-fact. ‘Now let’s stop worrying about something which I’m sure won’t happen. Suppose you get out your camera and get some photos taken? We can have them developed when we get to Vienna and stick them in an album then you can show them to your Mother and Father.’

      Durnstein, when they reached it, was a small picturesque town crowned by the ruins of the castle where Richard the Lionheart had been held captive and found, finally, by the faithful minstrel, Blondel. The pair of them wandered through the narrow mainstreet, speculating about the horrors of being held captive in a draughty old castle on the top of a hill for years on end until they did find a small shop crammed with enamel ware and embroidery where they browsed happily for half an hour before going back on board.

      The days were much the same although the places they visited were different. Bratislava they found disturbing and Cordelia was sorry that they had gone ashore. The man on duty at the gangway with a gun slung over his shoulder was disconcerting, especially as he neither answered their polite greeting or smiled, and there was nothing to buy. But it gave Cordelia a good reason for delving into modern history and explaining intricate facts like European boundaries, until now she hadn’t felt that she was earning her salary and it was a pleasant surprise to find that Eileen was really interested.

      They were to go to Budapest before they went ashore at Vienna, and here Lady Trescombe declared her intention of joining them. There was a taxi waiting for them and presumably someone had told the driver where to go for they crossed the Danube and drove up a winding road to an ancient citadel crowned by the statue of a woman. ‘Symbolising freedom,’ explained Cordelia to Eileen, having taken the trouble to read it all up beforehand.

      They inspected the Matthias church next and Fisherman’s Bastion, exploring avidly until Lady Trescombe, professing herself already worn out, decided that they should go to the nearby Hilton Hotel and have their coffee. After that, since someone had mentioned that there was a shop close by where they might find some embroidery, they bade the patient cabby wait and found their way there. The shop was in a cellar, stuffed to overflowing with the kind of things tourists would want to buy. Eileen immediately demanded an embroidered blouse, which her grandmother allowed her to buy while she bought a pair of charming little figurines. But Cordelia didn’t buy anything for the simple reason that there was no one to whom she might give it. She was tempted by the boxes of painted eggs, but they looked fragile and since her future was uncertain, there seemed no point in buying them.

      They went back presently and the taxi took them back across the river into the modern part of the city and here Lady Trescombe paid off the driver and declared herself ready for lunch. The hotel was modern but once inside it revealed an unexpected charm. White walls rose on all sides to the roof in a series of balconies, festooned with ivy. They sat at a little table and drank iced squash and then lunched in the splendid restaurant. Cordelia enjoyed every minute of it.

      They went back to the boat presently and Lady Trescombe went straight to her cabin to rest and enjoy a tray of tea, but Cordelia and Eileen went to hang over the rails, pointing out to each other the various landmarks they remembered from the morning.

      ‘If Vienna is half as nice,’ declared Cordelia, ‘it will be super.’

      She packed for them both that evening for they would arrive by midday the next morning, and after breakfast she packed for Lady Trescombe too.

      ‘You have enjoyed the trip?’ asked Lady Trescombe, ‘Eileen has been a good girl?’

      ‘Oh, yes, Lady Trescombe, I’ve loved every minute, and Eileen has been quite splendid; she’s been interested in everything too; it will help her with her school lessons and after Budapest she’s looking forward to exploring Vienna.’

      ‘I’m glad to hear it. Certainly you have made a good companion for her—she can at times be a very difficult child, but you get along well, I believe. Surely I shall recommend most strongly that you stay with her at her uncle’s house until her parents return. Unless of course, you wish to return to England?’

      Cordelia couldn’t say no fast enough, to that.

      They disembarked as soon as the formalities were dealt with. Cordelia and Eileen had made a few friends during their days on board; they bade them goodbye, suddenly reluctant to leave the familiar faces of the last few days, and followed Lady Trescombe down the gangway. There was a dark blue Jaguar car parked close by with a discreet GB on its back. Standing beside it a portly man of middle height, dressed soberly in a blue suit. Cordelia’s first idea that it was Uncle Charles was dispelled when she saw the peaked cap in his hand and heard Lady Trescombe say with satisfaction: ‘Ah, there is Thompson with the car— Charles remembered.’

      She greeted the man, introducing him to Cordelia and Eileen before getting in and settling herself on the back seat. ‘You may sit with me,’ she told Eileen. ‘Be good enough to sit beside Thompson, Miss Gibson.’

      To start with the streets looked uninteresting but then what could one expect? Dock areas all looked alike and neglected somehow, but presently the street opened into a wide boulevard and Thompson murmured: ‘The Ring, Miss, runs right round the centre of the city and very famous.’

      The buildings had become large and grand and there were little corners of green and trees. Museums, Cordelia guessed, and then large apartment houses with heavily curtained windows which concealed who knew what splendours within. They gave way presently to shops, very elegant too, this would be the Karntner Ring that Lady Trescombe had mentioned one day, and these in turn made way for vast buildings which had to be more museums or perhaps government offices, and then a sweep of green fronting that could only be a palace. There were broad avenues running across the grass and stationed on them small open carriages, their drivers in bowler hats and a pair of horses standing between the shafts. But Thompson went on his sedate way, past the Parliament Building to turn to the right at the end of the small park facing it. The street was quiet after the bustle of the Ring and the stone-faced buildings on either side of it had an opulent air.

      Thompson slowed the car and stopped before a large mahogany door in the centre of such a building, he got out, opened the door for Lady Trescombe