The Foreigner

by P. G. Glynn

  “For me?” she said, when Otto led her out to the castle courtyard to assess his latest acquisition. “You’ve bought me this little beauty?”

  “It had your name on it,” he told her, smiling at her delight.

  “But I don’t know how to drive.”

  “That’s soon remedied! Sit in the driver’s seat and I’ll show you what to do. There’s nothing to it. You can take Carla and me for a spin.”

  “What-say?” Carla asked, looking alarmed. She had come with her mother and Omama and constant companion, Bobo, at her father’s insistence that they all inspect the new car.

  “The word is ‘pardon’,” Marie told her, climbing eagerly behind the steering wheel. “And a spin is a little trip in my motor-car. When Papa’s ready you’ll need to sit on his knee, as your Mama will be busy.”

  “Bobo come?”

  “No, I don’t think so. There won’t be room for him now that he’s growing so big.”

  “Bobo must come!” Carla, who was rapidly changing from a baby into a captivating – but stubborn – small girl, stamped her foot, adding: “I want him.”

  Marie, in an attempt to distract her, said: “Watch what Papa’s doing!”

  Inserting a starting handle into its slot at the base of the grille while instructing Marie to switch on the ignition, Otto swung it and continued swinging until the engine responded. Marie in turn was quick to respond to his instructions concerning the gears and clutch and had soon grasped the rudiments of motoring. After a few lurches and false starts she felt equipped to be more adventurous. The courtyard was already too restrictive for her and her car. Now that she had four wheels beneath her and one in her hand to steer with, she could surely go anywhere … and her world had shrunk! Arnau and Trautenau were suddenly within easy reach … and she could explore to her heart’s content farther afield.

  “Bobo come?” Carla repeated from her puppy’s side as, with the car again stationary, Otto invited her to climb on to his knee. “Want Bobo with me.”

  “No,” Marie said firmly, eager to be off and feeling almost jealous of the dog. “Just this once he can’t come – but we won’t be gone long.”

  “Carla not coming!”

  Marie saw the rebellious expression and it was a new experience not to relent. “Don’t come, then,” she said. “Stay with Omama and your precious Bobo and miss a treat.”

  Jerking forward she ignored Carla’s cries of “Mama! Mama!” She saw the importance of steering round the circular pool, rather than through it, and finding third gear. This found, things were much simpler and she could drive faster, forgetting the gears and just remembering to steer.

  “The brake is another useful thing to remember,” Otto observed as the car careered from the castle’s drive on to the road outside. “You certainly have a bold approach to learning new skills! There’d be no harm in slowing down a little.”

  “I haven’t nearly reached sixty yet,” Marie told him.

  “Reaching it isn’t compulsory,” he said as they raced round a bend at a speed close to fifty. “It’s there on the speedometer as a measure, not an essential. So you like your present?”

  “It’s the best thing you’ve ever given me,” she answered, blowing him a kiss as her hair blew in the wind. “I never dreamed I could feel so free! It’s like being a bird, spreading one’s wings and … and flying.”

  “It certainly is,” he agreed with her, praying for all he was worth. “Where shall we go, Liebchen, now that the world’s on your doorstep?”

  “Anywhere – the farther the better! I warn you, Otto, that I shan’t be content for long to stay on this side of the mountains.”

  +++++

  “Will you miss your Mama?” Marie asked Carla. She hated leaving her little daughter but leaving Carla was preferable to hearing her cry all the time for Bobo if she came too. “I’ll miss you.”

  “Don’t go,” the child said, tightening her arms around Marie’s neck. “Mama stay in Schloss.”

  “I can’t. I’ve promised to drive your Papa to Prague. You’ll be with Daisy and Omama … and when I come home I’ll bring presents for you both: you and your friend Bobo, who doesn’t love you as much as I do. I love you so much that it hurts.”

  “Hurt Mama?” Carla asked, peering curiously into Marie’s face.

  “There’s nothing to see,” said Marie. “It’s something to feel … and with your soft cheek against mine I sometimes feel as if I’m bursting with love for you.”

  “Don’t burst, Mama!” Carla pleaded. “I cry.”

  “You’d cry if I burst and I’d cry if … if you were crying. That’s why I’m driving to Prague without you, my sweetheart. You see, I want you to be happy and I know you won’t be if you’re parted from Bobo, who can’t go where Papa and I are going. It’s better that I should miss you than that you should miss him and I’ll be back almost before you’ve noticed I’ve gone. Would you like me to bring you back a big doll?”

  “Carla like!”

  “I hope she’ll be all right,” Marie told Otto later as, the parting long over, she drove through new territory, past farms and fairytale castles, “only …”

  “She’ll be fine,” he reassured her for the umpteenth time, reflecting sadly on the fact that Marie hadn’t mentioned any concerns over Hugo. “It’ll be good for her to manage without her Mama for a bit. And good for me,” he added with a grin, “to have your undivided attention.”

  “Are you accusing me of neglect?”

  “No,” he said, “just of being a mother first and, at times, a wife second.”

  “Perhaps you need a mistress, like Rudolf.”

  “Mistresses!”

  “He has more than one?”

  “Yes, but Marinka’s his favourite. You’ll like her, I’m sure.”

  “I feel a little as if I’m betraying Anna by agreeing to stay under Marinka’s roof.”

  “If he didn’t feel he was betraying Anna by spending the war in Marinka’s cellar …”

  “Rudolf,” Marie interrupted, “wouldn’t know what betrayal meant. Where did Anna think he was, back then?”

  “With his old music professor, Ignat Svetla, practising on his violin and learning to play the harmonica. When his playing hadn’t much improved by the end of hostilities she was none the wiser. She has no ear for music, poor Anna!”

  “You’re just as bad as your brother. I’m beginning to wish we were staying in a hotel instead of with him.”

  “You won’t, once you’ve met Marinka … and tasted her cooking!”

  +++++

  Marie had been surprised to find, upon arrival at the elegant house by the river, that there was a third person to meet – a young someone whom Rudolf had casually introduced as his son. “Why didn’t you warn me about Ferdi?” she asked Otto the moment they were alone together in their bedroom, which had a view across weathered rooftops, slender spires and gold cupolas to the Little Quarter. “I felt foolish, meeting him without prior knowledge of his existence.”

  “You did?” Otto saw no benefit in mentioning his own shock at the introduction a year or so ago. “You concealed it well.”

  “That isn’t the issue, is it?”

  “I didn’t know there was an issue. Ferdi just … is.”

  “How awful for Anna, when she’d so like to have a child!”

  “It isn’t awful for her, since she doesn’t know about him. And no doubt she had her opportunities, just as Marinka did. They’re alike, aren’t they – Rudolf’s women?”

  They were both very big and wore loose clothing, perhaps in the hope of disguising the fact that they were so fat. But Marie was more interested in Otto’s observation than in his question. “Are you suggesting that Marinka has won points over Anna for having conceived?”

  “Not necessarily!” he said, flopping on to the large bed. “You don’t like her, do you – Marinka, I mean?”

  “I get the distinct impression that she doesn’t like me. Other than that I feel nothing in pa
rticular, apart from disloyalty to Anna.”

  “I expect you’re just peckish,” he said. “I think I saw partridges in the kitchen and they’re one of her specialities. Marinka’s culinary and conversational skills will soon banish your false impression and help you see that, here in Prague, Anna simply doesn’t matter.”

  +++++

  From the dining room window there was a clear view across to a pastel baroque dome which, during dinner, Marinka identified as the younger Dientzenhofer’s church of St Nicolas, adding: “That’s where my husband, Thomas, and I were married … and where he’s buried.”

  “Were you married long,” Marie asked her, “before … ?”

  “ … his canon backfired on him,” Marinka finished, serving asparagus from a silver dish. “No. Two years only. Little did we think, when we bought this house for its outlook, that I’d be looking out so soon on his grave.”

  “It’s as well,” Marie said, “that we can’t see ahead. Sometimes we might wish we could but I think that on balance ignorance of the future has to be best. Your home certainly has other virtues, beside the beautiful views from its windows. It’s very old, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. Very. It has stood here for more than a thousand years. Over there,” Marinka pointed with her fork to where the setting sun was spreading its glow over winding rows of rooftops in varying shades of ochre, “you can see the Renaissance influence. Myself, I prefer ancient to modern. I wouldn’t want to live anywhere built more recently than the tenth century.”

  Before she could stop herself Marie said: “You wouldn’t be happy living in Schloss Berger, then ... as it wasn’t built until 1799.”

  “A modern monstrosity,” Marinka responded emphatically before sipping some wine and saying: “It is also, of course, where Anna lives.”

  When nobody else said anything Marie, wishing she hadn’t started this, stated: “The partridge is delicious.”

  “And the asparagus is fresh from our garden … nicht wahr, Ferdi?”

  “It is, Mama,” he confirmed, regarding her soulfully with his father’s dark eyes. Then he told Marie: “I help to grow things.”

  “He’s a good gardener,” Rudolf said, “and can already beat me at chess.”

  “Which is more than I can do,” observed Otto, smiling across the table at his nephew. “Perhaps you’re destined, Ferdinand, to be a grandmaster … and perhaps you and Hugo will play chess together sometime in the future. Your cousin is a bit young yet.”

  “It’s most unusual,” Marie smiled, “for Otto to admit that Hugo is too young for something. Usually he gives the impression that our son is already a genius at most things.”

  “He’s such a proud father!” said Marinka. “You’ve a daughter, too, haven’t you, Marie?”

  “Yes, I have. This is the first time Carla and I have been apart.”

  “The choice was between staying with her – and, naturally, Hugo – and having a long run in your new car? What a car it is, too! Otto’s the soul of generosity these days, isn’t he? Of course, he can afford to be.”

  “How do you mean?” asked Marie, conscious of undercurrents and of Otto’s sudden guardedness. It had not been lost on her either that since their return to Bohemia he had been spending money like water. “If you have something to say, I suggest that you just say it.”

  “I should not,” Marinka ventured, “strictly speaking, repeat something told to me in confidence. But I strongly believe that Mama Berger was wrong in doing as she did … and that it’s always wrong for a mother to show such possessiveness and favouritism.”

  “Confidences in my opinion are sacrosanct,” Otto said quickly, “and I ask you to honour that, Marinka.”

  “Whereas I,” Marie stated, steel in her tone, “would appreciate being told what exactly it is that you know and I don’t.”

  Addressing the table in general, Marinka said: “In my view Marie is entitled to knowledge of what has gone on. Secrecy within a family is unhealthy and can lead to all kinds of complications. In the long run, I’m doing the Bergers a favour.” She then gazed hard at Marie, saying: “There was a contract that Mama had her brother Franz draw up before your departure last year for Otto’s signature. It offered him half her Kadlec fortune in exchange for … ”

  “Stop there,” Marie butted in coldly, “and let Otto himself tell me. Or,” she now focused the full force of her disgust on her husband, “having told all and sundry, is it not within his capabilities to tell his wife just why he was in such a hurry to rush home to his precious mother?”

  34

  Mama Berger thought it too bad of Marinka to have told Marie about the contract. Of course it had been wrong, also, of Otto to confide in Rudolf since it should have been obvious that he would blab to his mistress. Rudolf could never keep a secret as Otto knew full well. But it was useless crying over spilled milk. Otto had warned on the telephone that he and Marie were on their way home … and that she was livid. Mama must be ready for her … ready to help her understand why it had been necessary to bring Otto’s family back to Bohemia.

  Marta would make no excuses. She had, after all, just done as any mother and grandmother would do – assuming they could afford to. The circumstances of Otto’s and Marie’s departure had been such that some incentive was needed to make them see the wood from the trees. Or, more accurately, to make Otto see since he was the head of his family and therefore the one to involve in discussions. As his wife Marie must abide by his decisions, especially when these had far-reaching consequences affecting the children. Parents were the past and present whereas children were the future – and Hugo’s future, quite simply, centred on Schloss Berger. Carla’s wasn’t as crucial. Firstly she was a girl and secondly she was not, strictly speaking, a Berger. But she was part of the family and hence had every right to the best it could provide. There was not a shred of doubt in Marta’s mind that her action in drawing up papers for Otto to sign had been justified.

  So it was a waste of precious time to agonise … and this time with her grandchildren was doubly precious as she was so seldom with them without Marie hovering and casting her shadow over whatever was going on. Yes, Marta must make the most of the next few hours, erasing from her mind the spectre of Marie’s return and the angry accusations she was bound to hurl. She must keep reminding herself that the girl was young yet, with plenty to learn. The learning would not be easy for someone always so certain that she knew better than her elders, but that was not Mama’s problem. Life would teach Marie just as it had taught Marta. Life was the best teacher.

  It was a pity, though, that thanks to Marinka Marie had insisted on leaving Prague and coming home so soon. Why, they only left yesterday and were returning today! Hadn’t Marie the wisdom to see that Marinka had spilled the beans through jealousy? Knowing that his illegitimacy stood between Ferdinand and any claim he might otherwise have had on the Berger estates, Marinka was bound to be jealous of the fact that Hugo stood to inherit everything. Her reaction was natural, Marta supposed, but it was a nuisance. She would need to take both Otto and Rudolf to task for making her life harder.

  Sighing, she continued picking the lime leaves that she would dry later and make into Lindenblutentee. This was a soothing drink and with her headstrong family she often had need of it. Marta gazed down at Hugo, who was still fast asleep. That was the age to be! Dreaming in his pram, perhaps of his next feed, he had no worries, no responsibilities. But the poor lamb would have, as he grew to be a man … and forever after that. There was no escaping the lessons we were put in the world to learn. Marta hoped, though, with her whole heart that Hugo’s lessons would not prove too harsh. She wished a smooth path for him and a fulfilling one, with an abundance of love. As she made her wish he stirred and, straight after opening his eyes, smiled.

  “So, you’re back with me!” she greeted his awakening. “Did you have a good sleep … and are you hungry? I’ve been picking lime leaves, as you can see, which I intend turning into delicious tea. Let’s go and
find Daisy, shall we, so that we can give you your tea?”

  Marta believed in talking to babies and in their ability to understand from a very early age. She had talked to her boys right from birth and had been rewarded with excellent responses from them long before they could walk. It pleased her that Marie chatted animatedly to both Carla and Hugo in the confident expectation that they knew what she was saying. Yes, she and her daughter-in-law were similar in some ways! Upon Marie’s return it should prove well within Marta’s power to reason with her.

  As Mama scooped Hugo up in her arms, giving him a hug and delighting in his baby-smell, she wondered where Daisy and Carla were. It was several hours, she now noticed, since she joined them for lunch in the nursery and was told by the nanny that a walk was planned for the afternoon. Daisy’s plans had included Hugo but Marta had overruled her, saying that Hugo might as well be with his grandmother. The girl (who was featherbrained in Mama’s view) had happily agreed and that had been that. But by now Daisy and Carla should be back. Perhaps they were back and awaiting her and Hugo upstairs for tea. There was never any knowing with Daisy, who as well as flighty was quite untrained and whose strong Welsh accent often made for difficulties in communication. Beset by sudden misgivings as she hurried with Hugo to the nursery, Mama wished that instead of being so busy with her thoughts she had done as Marie instructed and kept a close watch on both babies.

  +++++

  Daisy was trying not to panic. It was not her fault if that old man had taken the pushchair off somewhere. She was entitled to a bit of loving and, before coming here, had never done ‘it’ in the open air. So she could hardly have been expected to stop just because Carla’s great-uncle had come along and got it into his head to go off with her …