And Who Will You Be?

Will you come with me? I’m free tomorrow after seven. Though now, of course, you’ll want to get there sooner.

Felix.”

Madeleine gave a small, amused smile and held the letter out to Bonnie.

“Read it. He’s inviting me out for the evening.”

Bonnie took the sheet with a smile. At the name of the establishment, her smile froze. She read to the end, looked back at the beginning and lowered her voice.

“There?”

“There.”

“And you’ll go?”

“I will. Look at what he says about people he knows. I won’t sleep now until I find out who he saw there.”

Bonnie read the part about “respectable circumstances” again. That morning she had been sitting in front of Felix, struggling to find words, while he listened and asked questions… And this same man had been watching something like that yesterday evening. Of course he had a life of his own. But for some reason it proved much harder to picture him in the audience than Madeleine.

“Doesn’t it bother you that he goes there?”

Madeleine shrugged.

“It bothers me that he recognised the women and didn’t give me their names. He could at least have dropped a hint. We know so many of the same people…”

She reached for the letter. Bonnie gave it back and smoothed the pastry paper on her knees.

“Though no,” Madeleine said. “If he’d named someone, I’d already be running over there. Very well, I’ll question him tomorrow. Come with me today.”

Bonnie raised her head.

“Are you serious?”

“Quite. I want to have a look. Aren’t you the least bit curious?”

There was movement behind the screen. Bonnie waited until the rustling stopped and drew closer to Madeleine.

“I don’t even know how to behave in a place like that. At least you know what to do in a theatre: sit and watch…”

“So we’ll sit and watch there too.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do. We’re going to see a show, Bonnie. We aren’t obliged to do anything else. If it’s horrid, we’ll leave.”

Bonnie smoothed the paper again. She pictured cramped rows, men’s shoulders on either side, someone’s face turning towards her in the dark.

“But it’s all men there, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Women aren’t allowed in.”

Bonnie looked at her. Madeleine glanced round the salon, let her eyes linger on the large mirror and slowly smiled.

“And we seem to have come to just the right place… Bonnie, have you played men on stage? Will you give me a few tips?”

The client emerged from behind the screen. At the mirror, she adjusted her hair and turned sideways.

“Now I like it. Leave it like that.”

The young man saw her to the door. Madeleine waited until he came back.

“Tell me, could you give us men’s appearances? So that no one in the street would notice.”

Bonnie felt herself blushing. If only he would not ask why.

“I can. But your voices will stay the same. And you’ll need men’s clothes.”

“We’ll find the clothes. Can we see ourselves first? She needs to decide.” Madeleine nodded towards Bonnie.

“Of course. I’ll show you some options, and you can choose. Only come in the suits: it’s easier to find the right appearance when I can see everything together.”

He went over to a small table, clearing the space in front of the mirror. Bonnie touched Madeleine’s sleeve.

“You want us to dress as men and go and look at naked women?”

Madeleine bent towards her.

“Yes. Only say it a little louder; I don’t think he heard you.”

Bonnie pressed a hand to her mouth. The young man went on moving things around on the table, and she could not tell whether he had heard. Madeleine was already laughing quietly beside her; Bonnie nudged her with her elbow, lost the struggle and began to laugh too.

“Stop it. I really don’t know if I can.”

“We’ll try them on first. I want to see how it turns out myself. I have two suits at home, Felix’s. Though you already know his taste.”

Bonnie wiped the corner of her eye.

“What if he meets us there? In his suits?”

“Then we’ll see how well they’ve disguised us.”

“He’ll recognise you. You’ll start talking to him.”

“Without fail. And I’ll ask who he’s waiting for.”

Bonnie smiled. She pictured him turning at the sound of Madeleine’s voice, and regretted that he would most likely not be there.

“Perhaps you should go with him tomorrow after all? He did invite you.”

Madeleine looked at her with narrowed eyes.

“Bonnie. If I need to get married again, I promise to tell you first. Today I’m asking you. Shall we go?”

Bonnie glanced in the mirror. Her cheeks were burning; the young man must have understood everything. But she did not want to leave. She wanted to laugh with Madeleine a little longer—and find out what sort of man she would make herself.

“Let’s try,” she said. “Only I want to choose my own face.”

Chapter 4. Her Ex-Husband’s Suit

Madeleine lived very close by. Bonnie memorised the house number before they even reached the door.

In the bedroom, Madeleine opened the wardrobe and pushed the dresses aside. Two men’s suits hung on the rail at the back.

“He didn’t take everything. He left these until next time.”

“Until next…”

“The next time he comes to collect his things,” Madeleine said. “Let’s leave it at that for now.”

Bonnie looked away, but not in time to hide her smile.

Madeleine took down a dark green jacket with broad plum stripes and spread it on the bed. The other suit was wine-coloured, with gold lapels; beneath it hung a waistcoat patterned with peacock feathers. Bonnie ran her palm over the fabric. The pattern was woven in, and each eye in the feathers changed colour in the light.

“Lovely silk.”

“Don’t say that in front of Felix. He’ll only hear the word ‘lovely’.”

Bonnie held the waistcoat against herself and looked in the mirror.

“I’d choose it for the stage.”

“He chose it for dinner. Though we’re putting on something of a show ourselves today. Try the wine-coloured one; I’ll take this.”

Madeleine found shirts and belts. They changed on opposite sides of the bed; Bonnie folded her dress, then unfolded it to take her handkerchief out of the pocket. The slip with her appointment time fell onto the bed. She put it in her handbag and picked up the trousers.

Felix was a good half a head taller than Madeleine. She stood in front of the mirror with her arms raised: the cuffs still covered her fingers. Bonnie first turned up the trouser legs, then tightened the belt and turned towards the mirror too. She did not feel like putting on the jacket yet—everything was roomy enough without it.

“The waistcoat suits you,” Madeleine said. “Look at it from the side.”

Bonnie took a step. One turn-up came undone, and her shoe caught in the fabric. She tried to free her foot and fell to her knees, just managing to put out her hands.

“Don’t get up yet.”

Madeleine was already crouching beside her, unwinding the trouser leg from her heel.

Bonnie caught her breath and sat back on her heels. Her knee stung. Carefully, she bent one leg, then the other.

“Nothing broken?”

“No. Only my pride. At the theatre I run up and down stairs in a dress with a train.”

Madeleine helped her up. Bonnie looked in the mirror: a sober wine-coloured waistcoat, an expensive shirt and her own indignant face. She laughed, quietly at first, then could not stop. Madeleine began laughing too, still holding her by the elbow.

“Sit down; I’ll hold it,” Madeleine said, gathering the trouser leg off the floor. “And let’s do both at once. I’ve already trodden on mine too.”

Bonnie sat on the bed and took out her Interpreter. Madeleine turned up the trouser leg to the ankle. Bonnie wrapped her hand round the device, concentrated on the fabric, and the turn-up held in place. She put out her other leg herself.

Bonnie tugged at the turn-up. It held.

“‘Don’t cut the trousers down. You’ll have to give them back.’”

“I wasn’t going to,” Madeleine said.

“No, someone said that to me today. In the street, before I met you. We were talking about perfume, and suddenly—trousers. I even looked down at my dress.”

Madeleine let go of the sleeve she was working on.

“Wait. Who said that?”

“A woman outside a shop. Plump, no longer young, with a quiet voice. She smelt so strongly of cinnamon that I started looking for a bakery. It turned out she makes her own perfume. She’d used up all her accumulators, and the scent had still come out too strong. She was on her way to buy more.”

“Could that have been Severin’s wife? It sounds very like her. She’s become fascinated by the Eastern Isles; now she’s trying everything—oils, perfume… But predicting other people’s trousers as well!”

Madeleine sat down beside her and held out an arm with a dangling cuff.

“Severin who sold the postal company?”

“Yes. They say you’d hardly recognise him since he left—he’s aged so much.”

Bonnie smoothed a fold in the sleeve.

“I thought he was taking a rest now.”

“He hadn’t meant to sell. After the new laws, he had to give up a share to the state. He stayed on as director for a while afterwards—it was his own business, after all. And now he’s bought two Interpreters, one for himself and one for his wife. From what you say about the cinnamon, she’s getting somewhere. He isn’t doing so well yet, but the schemes he has! Once I was so carried away listening that I almost agreed to help.”

“With what?”

“I never had time to ask.” Madeleine laughed. “We were already discussing the next idea.”

Bonnie smiled and fastened the cuff.

“He’s a close friend of Quentin’s, by the way. The very man whose apples I stole yesterday. Though why do I say stole? I took them for an experiment. Someone had to find out what he’d grown.”

Madeleine moved round to her other side, still looking at Bonnie’s trousers.

“Didn’t you ask where she got those trousers from?”

“I did. She looked at my dress and said, ‘I’m sorry. My mind was elsewhere.’”

“Her mind was elsewhere,” Madeleine repeated.

Bonnie pulled up the second sleeve.

* * *

They returned to the salon in their suits. Madeleine held the door, and Bonnie stepped over the threshold, looking down at her feet. The young man rose to greet them and inspected their clothes without a smile.

“A little large. That can be put right.”

“Only don’t cut anything down,” Madeleine said. “The clothes are borrowed.”

Bonnie and Madeleine exchanged a glance.

“I understand. Take off your jackets, please.”

He used the Interpreter to release the fixed turn-ups and rearranged the fabric. Bonnie asked him to leave a little more room at the waist. Now she could sit down and stand up without holding on to her belt. The sleeves no longer covered her palms; wrists appeared in the mirror, and the shoulders sat properly.

While he fitted Madeleine’s jacket, Bonnie walked round the room. She kept wanting to hold up a skirt that was not there. She put her hands in her pockets. Deep, comfortable pockets—there would be room for her handkerchief and the slip of paper, with space left over.

“Didn’t they used to sell crockery here?” Madeleine asked.

“My uncle did. I sat behind the counter sewing when there were no customers. Tablecloths, aprons… Turn round, please.”

He ran his fingers along the shoulder seam, asked Madeleine to lower her arm and only then took up the Interpreter. The fold beneath the collar smoothed away.

“Have you had the salon long?”

“I opened last week. I started by altering clothes. One customer was turning about in front of the mirror and joked that she could do with a different hair colour to go with her dress. We laughed, and then I thought: why not try? The hair took some work, but afterwards she brought a friend. That one wanted darker eyebrows, another a shorter nose. Little by little, I got the knack, and now I can change the whole face. For a while, of course. But that’s all they want: to go out in a new guise for the evening, then be themselves again.”

Madeleine looked at him in the mirror.

“Only recently, those wands were all anyone talked about, and now wherever you go, someone’s already opened a business. Did you at least finish sewing the aprons?”

“There’s still one lying here. The woman comes here now and reminds me every time.”

Bonnie smiled. The young man stepped back, inspected the jacket and came up to Madeleine again.

“It’s still pulling here. Raise your arm.”

“I thought we were finished.”

“We are, while you stand still. But you’ll need to move.”

He adjusted the fabric under her arm and asked her to repeat the movement. This time the collar stayed in place.

He finished with the jacket and stepped back to let her look at herself.

“Now, what appearance would you like?”

“A man’s,” Madeleine replied.

“I gathered that. Younger, older? Anything in particular?”

Madeleine glanced round at Bonnie.

“You go first. I’ll watch for now.”

The young man projected an image of a man above the small table: a straight nose, dark eyebrows, hair swept smoothly back. Bonnie moved closer.

“Too angry. Take out that crease here. And let his hair be looser; he’s not going to the office.”

The young man changed the image and turned it sideways.

“Could the nose be a little…” Madeleine pointed. “No, now it’s too short. Put a little back. There.”

Bonnie walked round the table.

“I liked the old one.”

“Look from this side. Only the chin needs to be more defined. And the eyes shouldn’t be quite so wide apart. Just a little.”

The young man turned the image this way and that; Madeleine kept asking him to go back to something or keep a new change. Bonnie was about to remind her that they were choosing a face for her, when suddenly she took a closer look.

“And the eyebrows?” Madeleine asked. “Raise them a little here.”

The image turned towards them. Bonnie looked at Madeleine. She was smiling contentedly.

“There! A wonderful face. We’ll keep it.”

“Madeleine, that’s Felix.”

Madeleine looked at the image again. She tilted her head, studying it from the side.

“Well… he is a handsome man.”

Bonnie could not help laughing.

“I can see that. But I don’t want to be your ex-husband.”

“Then I’ll have it,” Madeleine said. “Keep that one for me, please. Let’s give her a different one.”

Bonnie asked him to bring back the first appearance. She softened the chin, chose a different hairstyle and turned to Madeleine. Madeleine raised her palms: not a word.

“Can we try it on me now?”

He gave her a narrow ribbon covered in intricate lettering and asked her to tie it round her wrist. He took up the Interpreter and concentrated; in the mirror, a young man in a wine-coloured suit stood in Bonnie’s place.

Bonnie leant towards the reflection. She ran her fingers over her cheek: under her hand, her own cheekbone remained. She smiled. The man smiled with her, and she smiled again, deliberately this time, to see how it looked.

“Your voice stays the same,” the young man reminded her. “And so does your body. The appearance is only an image.”

“I can manage the voice.”

Bonnie squared her shoulders, took her hands out of her pockets and offered one to Madeleine.

“May I?”

Her voice came out lower, with an unhurried assurance. Madeleine placed her fingers in her palm and suddenly paused to examine the face.

“Keep this one. I’ll go with him.”

Bonnie bowed over her hand. Madeleine laughed and took it away before Bonnie could kiss it.

“My turn now.”

Madeleine took her place in front of the mirror and held out her wrist to the young man. He secured the ribbon and picked up the Interpreter. The face of Felix, which they had just been studying above the small table, appeared in the mirror.

Madeleine turned her head, admiring the profile, then adjusted her tie. Bonnie watched her, biting her lip.

Madeleine caught her eye in the mirror and asked in her usual voice:

“Well, will I do?”

Bonnie clapped a hand over her mouth.

“No, wait. Say it again, only not so high.”

Madeleine tried a bass voice and coughed.

“Don’t force it,” Bonnie said. “A little lower than usual. And take your time. You have nowhere you need to be.”

“I do, as it happens,” Madeleine objected, but repeated it more slowly.

Bonnie nodded.

“There. That’s better.”

Madeleine turned to the mirror and said, “Well, will I do?” once more, listening to herself. This time Bonnie did not laugh.

The young man asked them to untie the ribbons. The appearances vanished. Then they tied them again and made sure they could manage on their own.

“Now, about the time,” he said. “It usually lasts between three and six hours. The image is sustained by your magical core. The greater your reserves, and the less magic you’ve used today, the longer it will last. If you start to feel drained or hungry, it’s time to remove it or feed it from an outside source.”

“Can we use an Interpreter?” Bonnie asked.

“If it has any reserves. You can use an accumulator too. I have some small ones for hire.”

“We’ll take two,” Madeleine said. “I don’t want to hurry home because of my face.”

He showed them how to use the accumulators and had each of them try it. Bonnie put hers in her pocket; Madeleine asked him to show her again how to check that the energy was coming through. She tucked her ring on its chain beneath her shirt.

“May we leave our handbags with you?” Madeleine asked as she paid. “We’ll collect them on the way back.”

The young man nodded. Madeleine held the door, and Bonnie went out first.

* * *

Dusk was already falling outside. A man with a folder asked Bonnie to move aside, addressing her as “sir”, and walked past. She looked round after him. Madeleine took her arm.

“Well? He didn’t even look.”

“But you keep looking at me. And smiling.”

“I like how it turned out.”

Bonnie smiled too, but when Madeleine spoke again, she gave her elbow a small squeeze.

“Don’t try so hard to make it deep. It’s uncomfortable for you; I can hear it. You were better in the salon.”

“It’s noisy here.”

“Then come closer. And don’t rush to finish. You turn back into yourself at the end of every sentence.”

Madeleine leant towards her.

“Is that better?”

Bonnie nodded.

“Now say something longer.”

Madeleine thought for a moment, then said with a serious face:

“Will you come with me? I’m free tomorrow after seven.”

Bonnie laughed and turned away, covering her mouth.

“There you are,” Madeleine said in her own voice. “Now you’re giving us away.”

They stopped outside a closed shop to let a cart pass. Bonnie saw their reflections in the dark glass. Madeleine noticed them too and straightened her tie.

“What do I do with my hands?”

“Leave your tie alone, for a start. You keep checking it’s still there.”

Madeleine put both hands in her pockets.

“Like this?”

“Now offer me your arm. We did come together.”

Madeleine took out a hand and offered Bonnie her arm. Bonnie took it, still studying them in the glass.

“I like that better.”

They walked more slowly to Market Square. Madeleine told her about an editor who had cut the best part of her article. Sometimes she grew carried away, and Bonnie touched her sleeve; Madeleine lowered her voice without breaking off the story. Before long Bonnie stopped listening to how she sounded and asked what had been in the passage he had cut.

Beyond the square, the shops had already closed. They walked past dark windows, looked into a courtyard and turned back. Madeleine took out the letter, read “behind Market Square” once more and folded it irritably.

“He could have been more precise.”

“Perhaps that’s why he invited you to come with him?”

But Madeleine was already looking across the street. Two men stepped out of a carriage. The driver remained on the box; his passengers climbed a low flight of steps between a closed office and a narrow passage. One gave a short knock. The door opened, light fell across the paving stones and immediately vanished.

There was neither a poster nor a sign by the steps. The tall, dark doors rose almost to the second storey; the brass knocker was polished where hands gripped it. Madeleine knocked, and one door opened a little, without a sound.

A woman in a long black dress greeted them. She waited for Bonnie to come in, closed the door and turned to them.

“Good evening, Doctor.”

Bonnie gripped Madeleine’s elbow. Madeleine covered her fingers with her hand.

“Good evening,” she replied, a little lower than usual.

The woman smiled at her guests and held out a small tray.

“Your Interpreters, please.”

Madeleine took hers out first. Golden dolphins wound round the handle, supporting a mother-of-pearl flower; a lilac crystal rose from its centre. One of the tails caught on the edge of her pocket. Madeleine freed it and laid the device on the velvet of the tray.

The hostess’s eyes lingered on it for a moment.

“Is that a new one? Yesterday you had a different one. But this is just as unmistakable.”

“I like variety,” Madeleine said.

Bonnie hurried to set her own Interpreter beside it. The woman put both in a compartment behind the counter, turned the key and handed Madeleine a numbered token.

“I’ll return them when you leave. This way, please.”

She headed for the stairs. Bonnie glanced back at the counter once more and followed, feeling the weight of the hired accumulator in her pocket.

After the street, it was so quiet here that she could hear the hostess’s dress brush the steps. There was no music. No laughter or voices. For some reason, Bonnie trod more carefully, although her shoes were already making almost no sound on the carpet runner.

On either side of her, white marble was threaded with fine grey veins. The staircase curved gently; from halfway up, the entrance doors were already out of sight. Bonnie laid her palm on the cool banister and raised her eyes. Lamps glowed beneath frosted shades overhead. Their light fell on the bare shoulders and bowed heads of marble figures along the wall.

Madeleine walked beside her. At the turn she leant towards Bonnie, as though about to say something, but the hostess glanced round, and both straightened. The woman merely pointed to the upper landing.

“This way, gentlemen.”

Deep wine-coloured velvet curtains closed off the entrance. Up close, music became audible—only low notes for now, barely discernible through the fabric. The woman took hold of a curtain edge, stepped back and let them through.

Light struck Bonnie’s eyes. She stopped, catching sight of a woman in feathers right in front of her, and only a moment later realised that she was looking into a mirror. The real woman was far away, on a raised platform, and between them people moved, glasses gleamed and ribbons of smoke drifted. In the mirrors, the room went on and on; Bonnie did not immediately find where the reflection ended and the passage began.