First Impressions

by Margaret Thornton

  The doctor who was in charge of Arthur came to talk to them soon after Ingrid had left. He was far more impersonal than the nurse; friendly to a point, but with an abrupt way of speaking.

  ‘We are satisfied with your progress, Herr Johnson,’ he said. His English bore scarcely a trace of an accent. ‘Your condition is not so bad as we at first thought it to be. The heart attack was quite a mild one, made worse, I believe, because of your fear of being ill in a strange place. It is a warning, though. You must take care. You must not try to run before you walk.’ He managed a brief smile.

  ‘Thank you, doctor,’ said Mavis. ‘So. we’ll be able to travel home with the others, will we?’

  ‘Yes, of course. You may leave here in the morning, Herr Johnson. We will make arrangements for you to travel back to your hotel. Then you enjoy the rest of your stay here, in our lovely Black Forest. You behave quietly, though. You must not get too excited.’

  He shook hands with Arthur, then with Mavis, giving a curt bow and a nod of his head. ‘Goodbye, Frau Johnson. You look after your husband, yes?’

  ‘Yes, of course I will, Doctor. Thank you very much for all you’ve done for him.’

  She stayed for a little while longer, then took a taxi back to the hotel, feeling, for the first time since it happened that all would be well. It had been only two days since Arthur had been taken ill, but it had been the longest two days of her life. She knew they would not live for ever, but she would thank God every day now for the time they had left together.

  Fifteen

  Arthur was feeling a little apprehensive as he waited for his visitor that evening. He had combed what little hair he had and straightened his crumpled pyjamas. Fancy greeting a visitor in these old pyjamas! But at least they were his own, not the awful regulation nightwear from the hospital. Mavis had brought them in for him, with his shaving tackle and the book he was reading; a war story, but not about the last lot, but the exploits of Sharpe in the Napoleonic wars.

  There was a knock at the door at just after six thirty, then a nurse entered – not Ingrid, she had gone off duty – accompanied by a tall distinguished-looking man.

  ‘Here is your visitor, Herr Johnson,’ she said. ‘This is Herr Hoffman. I hope you have good time together.’

  The man approached the bed, smiling and holding out his hand. ‘Herr Johnson,’ he began. ‘I am delighted to meet you. Ingrid told me about you, and of course I said yes, I would be pleased to see you. So, how are you, my friend?’

  ‘Not so bad, thanks,’ replied Arthur. ‘Much better actually. I’ve had a scare and it put the wind up me, I can tell you. But they say I’ll be alright.’ He smiled. ‘I’ll be here for another few years, please God! I’m pleased to meet you too, Herr … er … Herr Hoffman. Ingrid’s told me about you. Sit yourself down then. There’s a chair over there.’

  Arthur was feeling more conscious than ever about his appearance now, compared with the spruce-looking gentleman who had come to see him. He was a tall upstanding man, with not the trace of a stoop. He had a good head of silver grey hair, and blue eyes that did not look the least bit faded behind rimless spectacles. A handsome chap with classic Germanic features. He was wearing a smart grey suit with a blue shirt and a striped tie, the picture of elegance.

  Especially so compared with me! thought Arthur, clad in boldly striped ‘old man’s’ pyjamas, and wearing glasses with heavy frames. He was used to them because he had had them for years, and he refused to change them for a more modern design. But the man seemed pleasant, and the first hurdle was over with.

  His visitor pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat down. ‘Now, you will allow me to use your first name, yes?’ he said. ‘I cannot go on calling you Herr Johnson. I believe my granddaughter said you are called Arthur?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. And your name is …?’

  ‘I am called Wolfgang,’ he replied, with what sounded like a touch of pride.

  ‘Same as the composer,’ said Arthur. ‘Yes, I like that name. I like Mozart as well.’

  ‘Just as I do,’ said his visitor. ‘So, we already have something in common. Now, tell me, Arthur, where do you live, in England?’

  ‘My wife and I live in Blackburn,’ said Arthur. ‘It’s in Lancashire. That’s just over the Pennine hills, the next county to Yorkshire. It’s an ordinary little town, not what you’d call a beauty spot, but we live on the outskirts, and there’s a nice view of the hills from the back windows. Ingrid said that you were … that you lived in Yorkshire. It’s a lovely county, one of the best in England, I reckon, though happen I shouldn’t say that, being a Lancashire lad, born and bred.’

  ‘Yes, I agree. It is a most beautiful part of your country, although I haven’t seen all of it. My wife and I, we have visited London, and many years ago we travelled to Scotland. And, of course, we visit Yorkshire again, several times.’

  His English was perfect, but then it would be with his wife being from England. They had no doubt done their courting in her language, thought Arthur. She wouldn’t have known any German until the two of them had met.

  ‘Where were you when … where was the farm you worked at?’ asked Arthur, trying to choose his words carefully. ‘I believe you were at a farm in Yorkshire during the … er … the war?’

  ‘Yes, so I was.’ Wolfgang smiled. ‘Do not be afraid to mention the war, Arthur. I tell you, I was glad when I knew it was all over for me, when I became a prisoner. I did not know how I could carry on much longer with all the dreadful bombing raids. But the way I see it, the good Lord, he rescued me. I could not admit that to my fellow Germans, but I believe that many of them felt the same about the war. It was frightful, horrific.’

  Arthur nodded. ‘Yes … yes, so it was.’ His visitor was shaking his head, gazing into space unseeingly. But he soon recovered.

  ‘Yes, the farm. It was near a town called Settle. A very beautiful place, but lonely as well. Those hills, so wild and bare, they seem to close in on you. As I say, I was glad of an escape from the war. No more worry about the next time we go up in the air, what we had to do. But then I feel sad and depressed as well, missing my family at home here in Freiburg. They would not know, perhaps, what had happened to me. Then it all changed …’ He smiled. ‘Because I met Elsie.’

  ‘Your wife? The girl you married?’

  ‘Yes, of course. My dear Elsie. She came to work as land girl at the farm. She lived there, she and her friend, Paula, with the farmer and his wife, Mr and Mrs Strickland. They were very kind people. They treat us well, my friend Johann and I. But Paula, I think she did not like me very much. She did not approve, you understand, of Elsie and me being friendly.’

  ‘Yes, I see. I suppose there might have been some bad feeling.’ said Arthur. ‘The war would be at its worst perhaps, then?’

  ‘Yes, it was 1942. I joined the Luftwaffe, as so many young men did, at the start of the war. We felt we must, you understand? I expect it was the same for you. There was unrest in Germany. The older people felt it was not good after the first war, the treaty and everything. Then the new regime, it seemed at first as though it could be the answer to the problems. We were carried along with it all for a time. By … Herr Hitler.’ He spoke the name scathingly. ‘We did not know until afterwards, when it was too late. Such dreadful things; we did not believe they could happen. So many of us, we felt the same after the war when we heard about it. We felt guilty, ashamed that they were our people, that they were Germans who had done all that. And I think we had bad reputation for a long time.’

  ‘Yes, there was bad feeling for a time,’ said Arthur. ‘And some of us, we saw too much. I was at Dachau, when it was all over … but I never talked about it, not to anyone.’

  Arthur knew, though, that it had influenced his feelings about Germany and the German race as a whole. He had always known, deep down, although he would not admit it, that there were many decent peace-loving Germans who had not wanted to be a part of it all. Like this gentleman, Wolfgang. He was, inde
ed, a perfect gentleman. Arthur felt that he would be pleased to have him as a friend, if that were possible. He knew now that it was time to set aside his prejudices. He knew, also, that he had exaggerated them at times for effect, sometimes just to be awkward.

  ‘I must admit I didn’t want to come to Germany,’ he said now. ‘I still had bad memories, and I wouldn’t let myself forget the past. But my wife persuaded me to come, and I’m very glad I did.’ He looked into the eyes of his new acquaintance and smiled at him. ‘And I’m very pleased to have met you, Wolfgang.’

  ‘You are glad you came. In spite of being ill?’

  ‘Yes, maybe the heart attack was a wake-up call. It’s made me see things differently. Anyway, it might have happened at home. Who can tell? These things happen at our age, quite unexpectedly. We’ve got to make the most of our years now, haven’t we? I’m damned sure I’m going to enjoy mine, what’s left of ’em.’

  ‘You must not do too much, though, Arthur. You must be careful for a while. My Ingrid says that is what you must do.’

  ‘Yes, I know that. She’s a grand lass, isn’t she, your Ingrid?’

  ‘Yes, and she is the image of my wife, Elsie, when she was young, of course. I sometimes feel I am seeing my young Elsie again. But my wife is still a very lovely lady. She is eighty now, but still beautiful, I believe.’

  ‘And … what did her family think,’ asked Arthur, ‘about their daughter and you? Was there any opposition, any trouble about it?’

  ‘I did not meet Elsie’s family until the war ended,’ said Wolfgang. ‘Her home was in York, a good distance from the farm where we worked, and she did not go home very often. But she told them about me, when we fell in love. We did so, soon after we met. We both knew how we felt, but it was difficult at first to admit that it had happened. I was afraid to do anything, to say anything to upset Elsie. But in the end I took hold of my courage and I told her. I said that I loved her. And it was the same for her. She had been waiting for me to tell her.’

  ‘So you were married in England, were you, after the war ended?’

  ‘Yes, that is so. When I left the camp it was a little while after the end of the war. I went to live at the farm with Mr and Mrs Strickland. Elsie and Paula had gone home, and I had a small room in the attic. The farmer had asked me to stay and work for him, as a paid worker this time.’ He smiled. ‘I was happy there, I enjoyed working on the land. It was very new to me. Here, in Freiburg, my work was in an office, very boring job. But I knew now that this was what I wanted, to work outside.’

  ‘So you changed your job, did you, when you came back here to Germany?’ Arthur felt that he was asking a lot of questions, but it was an interesting story and it seemed as though Wolfgang wanted to tell it.

  ‘Yes, that is correct. Elsie and I were married in York the year after the war. When her parents met me they decided I was not so bad.’ He laughed. ‘We lived in Settle. We had two rooms rented to us by a family. I was working at the farm, and Elsie, she had a little job in a shop.

  ‘But then, it was in 1947, I knew I wanted to come back home. I was missing my family and they missed me, too; and they wanted to meet my new wife. And Elsie, she wished to please me, and so we came back here. I found work with a man who had a small farm, just crops and vegetables and a few chickens. Then, later, I had a small place of my own. And so we stayed and were very happy. We have two children, Karl and Eva, and four grandchildren – you have met Ingrid – and now there is another little one on the way, our first great-grandchild.’ He smiled contentedly.

  ‘But I talk too much, all about myself. Now, you tell me about you, Arthur. You were in the air force, too?’

  ‘No, not me,’ said Arthur. ‘I was a soldier – in the army. Joined up when I was eighteen, didn’t wait for them to call me up. Like you said, we felt we had to do it. I didn’t see much action for a long time. It was after Dunkirk, you see, and all the troops were back in England, just waiting. So I went out with the D-Day lot, and managed to get through it all without any injuries, thank God! Then, well, I told you about Dachau … then eventually I was demobbed. My war was quite uneventful, I suppose, compared with a lot of chaps. You, for instance. It must have been hair-raising being part of a bomber crew. Did you pilot the plane?’

  ‘Oh no, not at all!’ Wolfgang shook his head. ‘I was not an officer, you understand? I was just an ordinary flyer. But we had lost so many men – just as you did – and the rest of us, we took their place. I was a navigator … not a very good one, I fear.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘Our plane got lost, crossing the hills, and we were shot down. There were no casualties among the crew, but we were all taken as prisoners. A happy escape for me, as I told you. Now, that is enough about the war. You tell me, Arthur, about your work in England and your family.’

  The nurse who had brought Wolfgang to the ward came back with cups of coffee and biscuits. They chatted together like old chums for another half hour or so. It was not an official visiting time, but an allowance had been made as a favour to Ingrid. Arthur found, when talking to his new friend, that his tendency to grumble and to look on the gloomy side was not apparent. In fact he found himself looking at things from a more positive point of view. It became clear that Wolfgang was an optimistic sort of man, one to whom the glass was always half full, rather than half empty, as it often was with Arthur. He made up his mind to watch himself in future, starting with a determination to enjoy what was left of his holiday in Germany.

  At the end of the visit the two men exchanged addresses and promised to keep in touch. Arthur was not much of a letter writer – he left all that sort of thing to Mavis – but at least they would be able to send a Christmas card, if nothing else. And who could tell? He might even get round to penning a few lines himself.

  The al fresco meal at the guest house was most enjoyable. They all sat around at small tables, helping themselves when they felt inclined to a variety of food, both hot and cold. There were sausages – bratwurst – and chicken legs; chunks of beef, pork and veal cooked on the barbecue; large platters of cold meats, and dishes of sauerkraut, potato salad and lettuce and tomatoes tossed in oil; and crusty brown bread and butter. And it you were still hungry following that, there was a choice of the inevitable Black Forest gateau, apfelstrudel, or ice-cream.

  Despite it being an informal meal the ladies had dressed up to look their best. Particularly so for at least three of the ladies, who had purchased new clothes in Baden Baden. Shirley and Ellen wore their new trousers and tops, and Jane wore her floaty dress in shades of green and blue, and her green high-heeled sandals.

  She knew that Dave kept glancing at her admiringly during the meal, and when their eyes met he smiled tenderly and knowingly at her. She felt that tonight would be a turning point in their friendship. She was sure now that she was falling in love with him.

  Following the meal there was an entertainment by a local group of men and women all dressed in national costume. This took place in the lounge, where the tables and chairs had been pushed to the sides leaving a large empty space in the centre. There the troupe danced and sang and played musical instruments, putting on a show very similar to the one that some of them had seen in Rüdeshiem, on their first night in Germany. A lady played a huge piano accordion that was almost as big as herself and a man blew down an alpenhorn more than six feet in length. There were fiddlers, too, and harmonicas to accompany the thigh slapping knockabout dance by the men, then the gentler landler, danced by the men and the ladies.

  There was enthusiastic applause as they finished their act, then departed with smiles and waves to the audience. After a short interval a local disc jockey played recorded music for the company to sing along and dance to, or just listen. It was not the ear-shattering sound such as was heard in the clubs and discos frequented by young people, but more gentle nostalgic tunes considered suitable for the clientele from the coach tour. Familiar songs, mainly from a bygone era, though not so very far distant. Hits by the Beatles, the Pet Shop Boys
, Boyzone, Simon and Garfunkel, the Beach Boys … And the haunting songs of Nat King Cole, Matt Monro, and Andy Williams.

  ‘Do you dance?’ Dave asked Jane. They had been sitting quietly, hand in hand, contented in one another’s company.

  She laughed. ‘Are you asking me?’

  ‘I’m just wondering if you do … if you did? It’s something we haven’t talked about.’

  ‘Well, if you’re asking me, then I do,’ she replied. ‘At least I used to dance; I’m afraid I’m rather out of practice.’

  ‘Well, that makes two of us,’ he said. They took to the floor to the strains of ‘Unforgettable’, sung by the truly unforgettable Nat King Cole.

  Dave held her close to him, her head resting on his shoulder. She was just a few inches shorter than he was. The foxtrot had never been her forte, but they glided rather than danced, their steps in time with one another. Jane was sure that their minds, also, were attuned to one another and that Dave felt just the same as she did.

  There were several couples dancing, but not all of the company had taken to the floor. Mavis was sitting with Norah and the two new friends she had met that week, and Norah’s younger sister, Christine, was dancing with Bill, the driver. Norah confided to Mavis that the two of them were getting very friendly.

  ‘I worry about her, you know,’ she said. ‘My little sister, she’s quite a lot younger than me, and I feel responsible for her. I thought it would just be a holiday fling, but they seem to be quite taken with one another. Anyway, time will tell. He seems a decent sort of fellow, though, from what I’ve seen of him.’

  They certainly seemed very ‘lovey-dovey’ together, thought Mavis as she watched them dancing. How lovely it was to be young, she mused, although there were always problems to be encountered along the way. She hoped that all went well for them, and for Dave and Jane. The two of them were oblivious to everything but one another as they swayed in rhythm to the sentimental melody.