Lily Frankburg walked up to her father’s house and cupped her hands around her face to look in through the window. She saw big Samuel Thorn on the phone and her father beside him, leaping up and down like an excited child.

132

“This is the real Dr. Frankburg,” said Sam.

The real Dr. Frankburg put both thumbs up at Sam again. Sam smiled and gave the thumbs-up back.

“All right,” said 12 percent of Manhattan taxi drivers.

131

Beth said that the practice of suttee required a woman to follow her deceased husband to his funeral pyre. Dan said he knew. Beth said it might not be so bad second time around as the job was half finished already. Dan asked if she was scarred all over. Beth took off some clothes.

Dan sat on the edge of the bed and watched her.

“I think I’d like to take everything off,” said Beth.

Dan nodded.

And so Beth stood before Dan and let Dan look at her. And she turned around and to the side and to the front again. And Dan’s eyes filled with tears and so did Beth’s.

“Late in life,” said Beth, “Monsieur Chabert the fire king made and sold an alleged cure for the White Plague. He raised and dashed many hopes. He was a faker and a quack. If he’d really gone into an oven he’d have burnt to a crisp.”

Dan agreed.

Dan said he’d like to dance. Beth said she’d like to too. And she put on a dressing gown and they pushed the bed against the wall and put the chairs and table on it to give them room.

Dan put his hands around Beth’s waist. She put her arms around his neck. They stayed still till their breathing was in time.

“What sort of dancing would you like to do?” said Dan.

“It’ll depend on the music.”

Dan reached over and switched on the radio.

130

“Is there a so-called Dr. Frankburg in the studio?” asked Samuel.

“Yes,” said Ali.

Samuel paused slightly for effect.

“Aren’t you really Ali Bronski?” asked Samuel.

“Yes,” said Ali.

Pause.

“Oh.”

129

“Oh,” said the station controller, hoping for more of a struggle.

128

“Oh,” said Clara Redlake. She was disappointed Ali Bronski had caved in so easily. She switched the phone to the other ear. She was still on hold. A voice thanked her for being patient.

127

“What’s she saying?” Frankburg asked Samuel Thorn. “What’s she saying?”

126

“Who is this?” asked Ali Bronski.

“This is the real Dr. Frankburg, ringing from Birmingham, England.”

“Really? You don’t sound like him.”

“Of course I sound like him. Surely you’ve heard my tape You Too Can Fly?”

“Then you must be Samuel Thorn.”

Pause.

“Are you Samuel Thorn?”

Pause.

“Oh,” said Samuel.

Pause.

“Yes,” said Samuel.

125

Frankburg hopped up and down and asked what was happening.

124