The Parent Trap

by Erich Kästner

  ‘Never.’

  ‘I wonder if he has married again?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I rather think not. He said he wasn’t cut out for the life of a family man.’

  ‘What a very strange story,’ says the teacher. ‘Could the children really have thought up the absurd notion of changing places with each other? When I think of the difference in Lottie’s character – and then there’s her handwriting, Mrs Körner, her handwriting! I can hardly take it in, but it would explain a great deal.’

  The girls’ mother nods, and looks fixedly ahead of her.

  ‘Please don’t take my frankness the wrong way,’ says Miss Linnekogel. ‘I’ve never been married, I am a teacher and I have no children – but I’ve always thought that women, married women, I mean, take their husbands too seriously! Because the only thing that matters is the children’s happiness.’

  Mrs Körner smiles painfully. ‘Do you think my children would have been better off in a long, unhappy marriage?’

  Miss Linnekogel says thoughtfully, ‘I’m not criticizing you. When you married you weren’t much more than a child yourself. You’ll be younger all your life than I ever was. What seems right to one person can be wrong for another.’

  Her visitor stands up.

  ‘What are you going to do now?’

  ‘I only wish I knew!’ says the young woman.

  Luise is standing in front of a post office counter in Munich. ‘No,’ says the post office clerk regretfully, looking at the letters being kept for collection. ‘No, Miss Forget-Me-Not, nothing again today, I’m afraid.’

  Luise looks at him undecidedly. ‘What can it mean?’ she murmurs, sounding troubled.

  The post office clerk tries to crack a joke. ‘Perhaps Forget-Me-Not has turned into Forget-Me?’

  ‘No, certainly not,’ she says, deep in thought. ‘I’ll come in and ask again tomorrow.’

  ‘By all means do,’ he replies with a smile.

  Mrs Körner arrives home. Burning curiosity and cold fear are struggling with each other so hard in her heart that she can scarcely breathe.

  The child is busy in the kitchen. Saucepan lids clatter. Something is braising in a casserole.

  ‘That smells delicious!’ says her mother. ‘What are we having for supper today?’

  ‘Pork ribs with sauerkraut and boiled potatoes,’ says her daughter proudly.

  ‘How fast you’ve learnt to cook!’ says her mother, apparently innocently.

  ‘Yes, haven’t I?’ replies the little girl cheerfully. ‘I’d never have thought I …’ She interrupts herself, horrified, and bites her lower lip. She mustn’t look at her mother now!

  Her mother is leaning in the doorway, very pale. As pale as the wall itself.

  The child stands by the open kitchen cupboard, taking out china, and the plates clatter as if there were an earthquake going on.

  With difficulty, her mother opens her mouth and says, ‘Luise!’

  Crash!

  The plates are lying on the floor, broken to pieces. At her name, Luise has spun round, her eyes wide with alarm.

  ‘Luise,’ repeats the young woman gently, opening her arms wide.

  ‘Mummy!’

  The child clings to her mother’s neck as if she were drowning, and sobs passionately.

  Her mother sinks to her knees and caresses Luise with trembling hands. ‘My child, my dear child!’

  They kneel there among broken bits of china. The liquid in the casserole on the stove evaporates, and there is a smell of meat beginning to burn on the base of the casserole. Water spills out of the other pans and hisses on the gas rings.

  The young woman and the little girl don’t notice any of that. As people sometimes say, although it seldom really happens, they are ‘lost to the world’.

  Hours have passed by. Luise has confessed everything, and her mother has forgiven her for all of it. It was a long, complicated confession with a lot of words, and her mother’s forgiveness for everything she did was wordless, short and sweet – a look, a kiss, nothing more was necessary.

  Now they are sitting on the sofa. The child is snuggling very, very close to her mother. It’s lovely to have told the truth at last! You feel so light-hearted, as light as a feather! You have to cling tight to Mummy in case you suddenly fly away.

  ‘What a crafty couple of girls you are!’ says her mother.

  Luise chuckles with sheer pride. (However, there is still one secret that she hasn’t given away: the presence in Vienna these days, as anxiously described by Lottie in her letters, of a certain Miss Gerlach.)

  Her mother sighs.

  Luise looks at her, feeling worried.

  ‘Dear me,’ says her mother. ‘I’m wondering what we ought to do now. Can we act as if nothing has happened?’

  Luise replies with a decided shake of her head. ‘I’m sure Lottie is missing you terribly. And you miss her too, don’t you, Mummy?’

  Her mother nods.

  ‘I miss her as well,’ the child confesses. ‘I miss Lottie and …’

  ‘And your father, am I right?’

  Luise nods, eagerly and shyly at the same time. ‘And I do wish I knew why Lottie has stopped writing to me.’

  ‘Yes,’ murmurs her mother. ‘I’m really worried about that.’

  Chapter Ten

  A long-distance call from Munich · The magic word · Even Resi doesn’t know what to do · Two plane tickets to Vienna · Peperl is thunderstruck · People who listen at doors get black eyes · The Music Director sleeps away from home and has an unwanted visitor

  Lottie is lying in bed apathetically. She is asleep. She sleeps a great deal these days. ‘She still feels very weak,’ Dr Strobl said at midday today. The Music Director sits at his daughter’s bedside, looking gravely down on her thin little face. He has hardly left the room for days, and has had the performances at the Opera House conducted by substitutes. A bed has been brought down from the attic for him.

  The telephone rings in the next room. Resi comes into the child’s bedroom on tiptoe. ‘It’s a long-distance call from Munich,’ she whispers. ‘Will you take it?’

  He quietly gets to his feet and signals to her to stay with the little girl. Then he goes into the room next door. Munich? Who on earth can that be? Probably the concert promotion agency of Keller & Co. He wishes to goodness they’d leave him alone!

  He takes the receiver and says his name. The switchboard makes the connection. ‘Palfy speaking,’ he says.

  ‘Körner here,’ says a female voice in Munich.

  ‘What?’ he asks, baffled. ‘Who? Luiselotte?’

  ‘Yes, it’s me,’ says the distant voice. ‘I’m sorry to bother you by calling, but I’m worried about the child. I do hope she isn’t ill, is she?’

  ‘Yes.’ He keeps his voice down. ‘Yes, she is ill!’

  ‘Oh no!’ The distant voice sounds very upset.

  Mr Palfy asks, frowning, ‘But I don’t understand how you …’

  ‘We had a kind of feeling. I mean I did, and so did – Luise!’

  ‘Luise?’ He laughs nervously. And then he listens in confusion. In fact in ever-increasing confusion. He shakes his head. He runs his fingers through his hair.

  The distant woman’s voice is telling him hastily all that can be told in such a great hurry.

  ‘Are you still on the line?’ asks the lady on the switchboard.

  ‘Yes, for heaven’s sake!’ The Music Director is positively shouting. I expect you can imagine the state he is in.

  ‘What’s the matter with the child?’ asks his ex-wife’s anxious voice.

  ‘A nervous fever,’ he replies. ‘The doctor says she has passed the critical phase, but she’s still physically and mentally exhausted.’

  ‘Is the doctor a good one?’

  ‘Yes, of course! Dr Strobl. He’s known Luise since she was tiny.’ Then he laughs, annoyed with himself. ‘Sorry – since it’s Lottie after all! So he doesn’t know her!’ He sighs.

  Miles a
way in Munich, a woman sighs as well. Two grown-ups don’t know what to do. Their hearts and tongues feel paralysed. And so, it seems, do their brains.

  A wild and childish voice breaks into the oppressive, dangerous silence. ‘Daddy! Dear, dear Daddy!’ The voice echoes all the way to Vienna. ‘Hello, Daddy, this is Luise speaking! Shall we come to Vienna? As quickly as we can?’

  The magic word has been spoken. The two grown-ups are not frozen rigid any longer. The oppressive silence melts as if a warm wind were blowing over the ice. ‘Hello, Luise,’ her father calls back lovingly. ‘Yes, that’s a good idea.’

  ‘It is, isn’t it?’ Luise laughs happily.

  ‘When can the two of you be here?’ he asks.

  The young woman’s voice comes over the line again. ‘I’ll find out when the first train leaves in the morning.’

  ‘Get on a plane!’ he shouts. ‘Then you’ll be here sooner!’ How could I shout like that, he thinks, when the child needs to sleep?

  As he goes back into the little girl’s bedroom, Resi leaves his usual place at Lottie’s bedside to him, and is tiptoeing away.

  ‘Resi!’ he whispers.

  They both stand still.

  ‘My wife is arriving tomorrow.’

  ‘Your wife?’

  ‘Ssh! Not so loud. My ex-wife! Lottie’s mother!’

  ‘Lottie’s mother?’

  He waves that away with a smile. How is she to know? ‘And Luise will be coming with her.’

  ‘Luise – but what do you mean? Luise’s is here in this room!’

  He shakes his head. ‘No, that’s her twin sister.’

  ‘Twin sister?’ The Music Director’s family relationships are beyond poor Resi.

  ‘See that we have enough to eat, will you? We can discuss the sleeping arrangements later.’

  ‘Oh, my word!’ she murmurs as she slips out of the doorway.

  The child’s father looks at her as she sleeps in exhaustion. There is a film of sweat on her forehead. He carefully dabs it dry with a handkerchief.

  So this is his other little daughter! His Lottie! What courage, what strength of will she showed before illness and despair overwhelmed her! She didn’t get that heroic courage from her father! Where did she get it, then?

  From her mother?

  The telephone rings again.

  Resi looks into the room. ‘It’s Miss Gerlach.’

  Without turning round, Mr Palfy shakes his head, indicating that he doesn’t want to take this call.

  Mrs Körner asks Dr Bernau for a leave of absence from the office ‘on urgent family business’. She phones the airport, and manages to book two seats on a flight to Vienna first thing tomorrow. Then she packs a suitcase with the basic necessities.

  Short as that night is, it seems to her endless. But even nights that seem endless do pass.

  When Dr Strobl, accompanied by Peperl the dog, arrives at the apartment building in Rotenturmstrasse next morning, a taxi is just drawing up outside it.

  A little girl gets out of the car – and next moment Peperl is jumping up at the child like a dog possessed! He barks, he spins around like a top, he jumps up at her again.

  ‘Hello, Peperl! Hello, Doctor!’ she says.

  The doctor is so astonished that he forgets to reply politely. He makes for the child himself, if not as gracefully as his dog Peperl, exclaiming, ‘Are you out of your mind? Get back to bed this minute!’

  Luise and the dog run through the front door of the building.

  A young lady is getting out of the car now.

  ‘That child will catch her death of cold!’ cries Dr Strobl.

  ‘She’s not the child you think she is,’ says the young lady in friendly tones. ‘She’s her sister.’

  Resi opens the door in the corridor. The dog Peperl, panting, is standing there with a little girl.

  ‘Hello, Resi!’ cries the child, rushing into her bedroom with the dog after her.

  The housekeeper, astonished, makes the sign of the cross as they pass her.

  Then old Dr Strobl comes up the stairs, puffing and panting. He is accompanied by a very pretty young woman carrying a suitcase.

  ‘How is Lottie?’ asks the young woman.

  ‘Rather better, I think,’ Resi tells her. ‘May I show you the way?’

  ‘I know it, thank you!’ And the newcomer has already disappeared into the child’s room.

  ‘When you’ve recovered a little,’ says the doctor to Resi, amused, ‘maybe you can help me off with my coat. But take your time, there’s no great hurry!’

  Resi jumps. ‘I’m ever so sorry, sir,’ she stammers.

  ‘I’m not in such a hurry to see my patient today either,’ he explains.

  ‘Mummy!’ whispers Lottie. Her eyes are wide and shining, fixed on her mother as if she were a magic picture in a dream. Without a word, the young woman caresses the child’s hot hand. She kneels down by the bed and takes her trembling daughter gently in her arms.

  Luise glances quickly at her father, who is standing by the window. Then she gets busy with Lottie’s pillows, plumping them up, turning them over, straightening out the quilt. Now she is being a good little housewife. She’s learnt a lot since they last saw each other!

  The Music Director surreptitiously steals a look at the three of them. The mother with her children. Of course, they are also his children! And years ago the young mother was his wife! Forgotten hours and days come back into his mind. It was all so long ago …

  Peperl, although thunderstruck, is lying on the far end of the bed, looking again and again from one little girl to the other. Even his shiny little black nose is twitching undecidedly, not sure what to do. Fancy putting a dear little dog who is fond of children into such an awkward situation!

  Then there is a knock on the door, and the four people in the room are awoken as if from a strange, waking dream. Dr Strobl comes in, jovial and rather noisy as usual. He stops beside the bed. ‘Well, and how is my patient doing today?’

  ‘Fine!’ says Lottie, with a tired smile.

  ‘Do we have an appetite for some lunch at last?’ he growls.

  ‘If Mummy’s going to cook it!’ whispers Lottie.

  Mummy nods, and goes over to the window. ‘Excuse me please, Ludwig, I’m sorry I didn’t say hello to you before!’

  The Music Director presses her hand. ‘I’m so grateful to you for coming.’

  ‘Why, don’t mention it! Of course I came! The child …’

  ‘Yes, of course, the child,’ he replies. ‘But all the same!’

  ‘You look as if you haven’t slept for days,’ she says hesitantly.

  ‘Oh, I’ll soon catch up with my sleep. I’ve been so worried about … about the little girl!’

  ‘She’ll soon be better again,’ says the young woman confidently. ‘I can feel that she will.’

  There is whispering over by the bed. Luise is leaning over Lottie, close to her ear. ‘Mummy doesn’t know anything about Miss Gerlach. And we must never tell her!’

  Lottie nods anxiously.

  Dr Strobl can’t have heard that, because he was reading the thermometer. Not, of course, that he reads the thermometer with his ears. But if by any chance he did hear anything, at least he knows better than to let it show. ‘Your temperature is nearly back to normal,’ he says. ‘Congratulations, Luiserl!’

  ‘Thank you, Doctor,’ replies the real Luise, giggling.

  ‘Or do you mean me?’ asks Lottie, smiling, but cautiously because smiling still makes her head ache.

  ‘What a couple of cunning little schemers you are!’ he growls. ‘Very dangerous schemers, at that! You’ve even managed to fool Peperl here!’ He puts out both hands and pats a little girl’s head affectionately with each of his big paws. Then he coughs energetically, stands up and says, ‘Come along, Peperl, you must tear yourself away from these two deceitful young ladies!’

  Peperl wags his tail to say goodbye. Then he keeps close to the enormous trouser-legs of Dr Strobl, who is just t
elling Music Director Palfy, ‘A mother is medicine that you can’t buy in the pharmacist’s shop!’ He turns to the young woman. ‘Will you be able to stay until Luise – oh, bother it! – I mean until Lottie is quite better again?’

  ‘I’m sure I will, Doctor, and I would certainly like to.’

  ‘Well then,’ says the old gentleman, ‘your ex-husband here will just have to go along with that.’

  Palfy opens his mouth.

  ‘Too bad,’ the doctor teases him. ‘Of course your artistic heart is bleeding – so many people in your apartment! – but you just have to be patient for a little while, and then you’ll be all on your own again!’

  What a mood the doctor is in today! He opens the door so quickly that Resi, who is listening at the keyhole outside in the corridor, gets a black eye. She holds her buzzing head.

  ‘Put the clean blade of a knife on it!’ Dr Strobl recommends, every inch the doctor. ‘And I won’t charge you for the good advice.’

  Evening has come, in Vienna and elsewhere too. All is quiet in the children’s room. Luise is asleep. Lottie is asleep. She is sleeping her way back to good health.

  Mrs Körner and the Music Director were sitting in the next room until a few minutes ago. They have had a great deal to say to each other, and even more not to say. Then he stood up and said, ‘Well, I must be going now.’ He sounds rather funny to himself, saying that, and for a good reason, too. Stop and think about it: there are two little girls of nine asleep in the next room, your own children and the children of the pretty woman here with you, and you have to slink away from your own apartment like an admirer who’s been given the brush-off! If we still had invisible household spirits, as we did in the good old days, what a laugh they’d be having now!

  She goes out into the corridor with him.

  He hesitates. ‘If she should get worse – I’ll be in the studio apartment.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she says confidently. ‘And don’t forget that you have a lot of sleep to catch up with.’