by Pierre Frei
'Konigsberger Klopse.'
'Kounigsboorger Klapse,' he tried to say, and laughed at his own mispronunciation. 'What's that?'
'Something like your own meatballs. Served with caper sauce and boiled potatoes. This is the third time the boys have written it on the board where they can say what they'd like. It's all ready, and Sergeant Panelli is going to finish the cooking. I have a couple of days off.'
'Wonderful. Then I'm sure you'll have time to dine with me - this evening, perhaps?'
'Thank you so much for the invitation, but I'm going to see my parents in Kopenick.' She was glad that she didn't have to invent an excuse.
If he was disappointed he didn't show it. 'Frau Weber, it's because of your cooking skills that I asked to see you. Mr Gold of the State Department is looking for a first-class cook. In his position, he often has important guests to dinner. You'd have many privileges, but a good deal of overtime too. How about it?'
It would mean less time with John. 'I'm sure that's an interesting offer, Mr Chalford, but I'm happy where I am.'
'Well, I can't force you, Frau Weber.' He accompanied her to the stairs. 'Konigsberger Klopse,' he repeated with amusement.
'Well done. You said it without any accent at all that time,' she told him encouragingly.
She cycled home to fetch her overnight bag. On the stairs, she met a thin woman in a hat and coat, carrying a shabby suitcase. 'Hurry up, do,' she called to someone, without deigning to glance at Jutta. Jurgen Brandenburg came down the stairs with his white stick. He was wearing an ancient, ankle-length loden coat that made him look even shorter than he was, and a black Mao cap pulled well down over his ears. He looked pathetic and pitiable. He pushed past Jutta, and seemed about to say something, but decided against it.
In the apartment, an agitated Herr Konig greeted her. 'That Brandenburg! Just a conman! A fraud! Fighter pilot my foot! And he never won the Knight's Cross! His sister says their mother had measles when she was pregnant, and he was born blind. Fraulein Brandenburg tracked him down through the ration-card distribution centre. She came from Klein Beelzen to take him home so he can't do any more damage. He swindled a general's widow in Potsdam out of her last ring for an expensive operation to restore a war hero's sight. He'd been talking us into the same kind of thing. Ilse was on the point of sacrificing her platinum brooch for him. Well, now he can go back to weaving baskets under his sister's eye, the rogue. I always had a funny feeling about him, you know.'
'Of course you did, Herr Konig.' Jutta picked up her bag. 'Well, better luck with the next wearer of the Knight's Cross.'
John Ashburner was stowing a carton full of cans and bottles in the jeep, a present for Jutta's parents. 'Oh, please don't, John. They might feel it was charity.'
Shrugging, he carried the carton back into the kitchen. 'How did you do with Chalford?'
'He offered me a different job, but I said no. And he asked me out for a meal.'
'Oh, so he has his eye on you. What do you think of him?'
'He's a nice guy, but as a man he doesn't appeal to me at all.' She stood on tiptoe and put her arms around his neck from behind. Anyway, I already have one who wants to marry me. A girl doesn't let someone like that get away in a hurry.' she whispered in his ear.
Ashburner consulted the map. The Kopenick district was in the Soviet sector, and was best reached by driving right across the city. In these early post-war days, the borders between the four zones of occupation were of purely symbolic significance. Allies and Germans alike could move freely all over Berlin.
They drove through the ruinous landscape of the Mitte district. 'Until now going to see my parents was like a journey round the world.' Jutta leaned her head on his shoulder. 'I didn't know a tall good-looking American with a jeep then.'
'What are your parents like?'
'Mutti is hopelessly old-fashioned. "He's married," was the first thing she said when I told her about us.'
'What about your father?'
'He's unhappy with the way things are these days - but basically it's more himself he's unhappy with.'
A Nazi?'
She sat up. Are you marrying him or me? Still, if it sets your mind at rest, Vati is inclined to be nationalistic, but he was never a Nazi.'
Two burnt-out German tanks stood one on either side of the street. Ashburner was about to drive between them when a dirty brown jeep with a red star blocked the way. The captain braked hard. A man with a stubbly head and a lieutenant's shoulder straps got out of the jeep. He put his cap on and checked its angle in his rear mirror before approaching. 'Propusk: he demanded. Ashburner guessed that it meant 'Papers'. He saluted very correctly. 'Captain John Ashburner, United States Army. According to the agreement of our high commands, Allies in uniform don't have to produce papers.'
The Russian barked something as incomprehensible as it was unfriendly in tone, which helped neither side to get any further.
'Let's turn back, darling,' Jutta said quietly.
'I can't do that, if only on principle. I have a right to drive through freely. Let us pass, lieutenant.' He gestured to the Russian to move his vehicle out of the way. The man shouted something over his shoulder.
Three Red Army soldiers standing by the vehicle trod out their papyrossi and unslung their Kalashnikovs. The fourth man, who wore a blue mechanic's overalls and a worker's cap tilted at an angle. climbed out and approached at a leisurely pace. 'Do you understand German?' he asked.
'My name is Weber, and I'm a German myself.' said Jutta. 'Please can you explain to this man that he has no right to stop an American officer.'
'Storch,' the man introduced himself. 'Secretary of the Communist Party, Kopenick district, back in my homeland with the victorious Red Army.'
'How nice for you, Herr Storch. Now we'd like to drive on.'
Storch spoke to the lieutenant in Russian. 'Your pass.' he asked her. She did not want to aggravate matters, and handed him the ID indicating that she was an employee of the Americans.
'What's going on?' Ashburner asked impatiently.
The interpreter spoke to the Russian. 'The American can drive on. The German woman comes with us for questioning.' He kept her pass.
'John, they want to take me with them.'
Instinctively, Ashburner reached for the Magnum at his side, but luckily he had left it in the office. 'My companion does not leave this jeep, is that understood?'
Jutta translated it into German, and the interpreter translated it into Russian. The lieutenant shouted an order. The soldiers loaded their Kalashnikovs.
'This doesn't look good,' muttered Ashburner, reaching for the field telephone. 'Let's hear what HQ has to say.'
The lieutenant drew his pistol from its holster, shouting, 'Ne svonyit'!'
'Very well, my friend and ally, I get the idea,' Ashburner mollified him, switching the device to Off. He unfolded the latest number of Stars and Stripes and leaned back. 'He'll get tired of this after a while,' he soothed his girlfriend.
'They have radios too.'
'Yes, darling?'
'Your Russian friend. The one with the white sports car. Do you think he could help us?'
'Maxim Petrovich? My clever angel, that's the idea of the century. Tell that German Bolshie to get his Red liberator to phone General Bersarin's office and ask for Major Berkov. And tell him he'll be in deep trouble if he doesn't.'
Jutta beckoned to the district secretary. 'Oh, please, Herr Storch, we need your help.' She explained. 'Major Berkov will take responsibility, and then your lieutenant will be in the clear.'
Storch spoke to the Russian. He took off his cap and scratched his stubbly head. 'Da,' he decided. He took paper and pencil out of a card case dangling from a long strap and handed both to the interpreter.
'I'm to write down the American's name and rank in Cyrillic script,' he told Jutta. She spelled out the information he wanted.
The lieutenant returned to his vehicle. He spoke into the microphone, gesticulated, and kept pointing to
the jeep. 'Seems like he has a lot to report,' commented Ashburner calmly.
Twenty minutes later the white BMW drew up beside their jeep. Major Berkov got out. 'John, how are you?'
'Thanks, very well. Apart from a little trouble with your excitable colleague here.'
'We'll soon deal with that. Won't you introduce me to your fair companion first?'
'Major Maxim Petrovich Berkov - Jutta Weber,' said John Ashburner, relieved.
Jutta shook hands with the major. 'We've seen each other before:
'I remember it with pleasure.' Berkov did not conceal his interest. 'John, what seems to be the problem?' Ashburner explained. 'Leave it to me.' The major went over to the lieutenant, and after a brief exchange of words returned. 'He has orders to check all military vehicles passing this way - but only our own, of course. You must forgive his excess of zeal. Here you are. madame.' He gave Jutta her pass back. 'What brings you to our part of the city?'
'We're visiting my parents in Kopenick. They run the Red Eagle bar and cafe.'
'Well, I wish you a pleasant afternoon.' A long, appreciative look. A pity we won't be meeting again. I've been recalled to Moscow.' The major got into his sports car. 'Goodbye, John.'
'Thanks, Maxim Petrovich. You were a great help. It's been nice to know you.'
Berkov replied with a casual little wave of his hand. The BMW raced away. As he started the jeep, Ashburner made the four wheels spin, and left five coughing figures in a cloud of dust behind them. Fifteen minutes later, they had reached their destination.
The emblematic bird of Brandenburg itself was the sign above the door of the Red Eagle. A few hungry children surrounded the jeep. Jutta distributed chocolate bars that she had taken out of John's carton. A man in his sixties came out of the house. Jutta hugged him. Vati, this is John Ashburner. John, this is my father Ludwig Reimann.'
In honour of the day, Herr Reimann was wearing his dark-blue suit with a silver-grey tie, and in his buttonhole the little black and white ribbon of the Iron Cross, First Class, from the Great War. He shook hands with Ashburner. 'Pleased to meet you, captain.'
'Just John, sir, please.'
'Come in and let me introduce you to Mother.' He led the guest inside, through the empty bar and straight to the kitchen. Her hair freshly arranged, Frau Reimann stood by the stove lowering large dumplings into simmering water with a perforated spoon. 'Mother, this is John Ashburner. And this is my wife Else.'
Else Reimann wiped her right hand on her apron before offering it to the visitor. 'Do you like braised beef with potato dumplings? And for a starter we have zander fillets from the Muggelsee with shrimp, and a beef bouillon in between. Thank goodness for our old coal-burning stove. The gas connection is wrecked, and you can't get a proper meal cooked on the electric plate. Even if the power's on. My husband has put some Mosel to chill for the fish, and we have burgundy for the braised beef, and then chocolate pudding with vanilla sauce.'
She's excited and rather confused, thought Jutta as she interpreted. Suddenly she realized what unattainable delicacies her mother had been itemizing.
Her father said, in his rudimentary English, 'The bar is closed today. So we're on our own. A glass of sparkling wine, captain - I mean John.' Reimann opened the bottle, with a loud pop. It was not any old sparkling wine, but a 1940 champagne from Duval-Leroy. Where had her parents found all these marvels?
'You're late.' Ludwig Reimann reached for the watch in his waistcoat pocket. But only its pendant was hanging from the gold chain. 'Oh, I forgot, it's being repaired,' he murmured, embarrassed. Then Jutta realized: her father had sacrificed his gold watch to give his guest a proper welcome.
John Ashburner looked round the bar. The worn, wooden tables with clean, shiny ashtrays on them were meticulously arranged. The tablecloths at the back of the room were starched and well ironed. Everything here was simple and clean. Only the window frames didn't fit the picture. They looked as if woodworm had been at them. However, the marks were the pricks of countless drawing pins, a memento of the evening blackouts during the war years, when black paper had to keep any ray of light indoors. Reimann explained it to his guest, concluding gloomily, 'It cost our neighbour his head, because he was acused of giving light signals to enemy bombers. The poor fellow just forgot to black out his toilet window one evening. And that night of all nights he had the trots and kept running to the lavatory.'
'Why are you doing all this?' Jutta asked her mother in the kitchen. 'John and I didn't come to stuff ourselves with food.'
'We have our pride too.' Her mother tasted the broth. 'Jochen brought me flowers when he was courting you. "Jutta and I are for life," he said.' Else Reimann's eyes filled with tears. And now you're being unfaithful to him.'
'I suppose you'd rather I committed suttee.' At the same moment she realized that her irony was beyond her mother's grasp. In a more conciliatory tone, she added, 'Of course I can't forget Jochen just like that. John knows and understands.'
Her mother pursed her lips. And does he know what those brutes did to you?'
'I've told him I was raped twice, and almost raped a third time, and I said I'd no intention of letting that ruin my love life.'
'He isn't even divorced yet.'
'That's enough, Mother. Don't spoil the day for us.'
A couple of pennants of the local football club and a team photo hung on the walls. 'Cheers, boys.' Herr Reimann raised his glass to the picture. 'There's none of them left alive, except the outside left.' John Ashburner looked thoughtfully at the eleven young men in their football strip. Although he didn't like to admit it, the idea of a war in which he had not fought and which was so much more than he could imagine made him feel confused and upset.
'Come and eat!' Jutta took his arm and led him into the room next to the bar. He held her out mother's chair for her, earning a shy smile.
Reimann poured the Mosel. A Wehlener Sonnenuhr. Our German wines have rather flowery names. This one reminds me of the professor who lived in one of the villas at Wendenschloss. Professor Georg Raab, an art historian. He often looked in for a glass or two of Mosel. His wife wasn't supposed to know, he was a diabetic.'
'Jutta, do you remember how he used to draw you?'
'Yes, he did fourteen drawings of me. They were all nudes.' She cast her mother a challenging glance.
Else Reimann, embarrassed, changed the subject. 'They took the poor man away, like most of his kind. They spared his wife. She was only half Jewish. All the same, she insisted on wearing the Jewish star. They let her keep a little room in her villa, and you saw her going about the place looking terrible, half-starved. Half rations were the most those people got. In the end she hanged herself.'
'You could have slipped her something on the sly,' Jutta said soberly.
'What, and put us all in danger? What are you saying, child?'
'The truth.'
Her mother, looking injured, brought in the fish.
'What do you think about the Jews, John?' Ludwig Reimann asked.
At a loss, Ashburner shrugged his shoulders. 'I don't really know. There aren't any back home in Venice.'
'I can't say I particularly like them. Not that I ever wished them any harm. That was Hitler's big mistake, killing them instead of sending them to Madagascar. He roused all the Jewish financiers of America against him, and they put pressure on your President Roosevelt until the United States joined in the war. Without America on the other side we'd have won. I'm an old soldier of the Great War, I know what I'm talking about.' Reimann put his forefinger on the ribbon of his order. 'Cheers, my dear fellow.' He was getting animated. He emptied his glass and refilled it at once.
'Your zander is getting cold, Father,' Jutta said, to get him off the subject.
'Have they caught that dreadful murderer yet?' Her mother turned the conversation in what was hardly a more cheerful direction.
'We're getting close, ma'am. I have a very capable German colleague.' John Ashburner sipped the Mosel. 'Wonderful wine. Many
thanks. And thank you for the invitation too. It's very important that you get to know me. After all, I want to take your daughter across the Atlantic.'
Else Reimann gave a loud sob. 'There, there, Mother,' her husband soothed her. 'Better times will soon come, and then we'll visit the two of them. I've always wanted to go to America.'
'Very nice people, your parents,' said John as they left.
He's only being polite, thought Jutta. Mother's tearful, as usual, and Father hasn't really understood the war. But he knows enough to run this place in Kopenick.
John got his long legs into the jeep. 'How long are you going to stay here?'
'Until Wednesday. I want to help Mother a bit in the garden. She has trouble with her back.' She bent down to kiss him. 'You know something? Mrs John Ashburner doesn't sound so bad.'
ROdel tore the sleeve away from the armhole. The ugly ripping sound went right through Ben. He looked at himself in the mirror, clad in a construction vaguely reminiscent of a jacket, with horsehair sticking out all over it. Tacking thread distorted the clear lines of the classic Prince of Wales check.
From the veranda workshop, he could see through the living room and into the bedroom. Heidi, naked to the waist, was sitting at her dressing table, brushing her hair. Her breasts rose and fell with every stroke of the brush. She must have failed to notice that the door was ajar.
The tailor ripped out the right sleeve too. Ben seemed to feel actual physical pain. 'Do you have to?' he protested faintly. The pale, pink-tipped girlish breasts were swaying in rhythm.
ROdel continued his work of destruction, unmoved. Another two fittings and you'll have a suit like something out of Baron Eelking's gentlemen's magazine, Herr Dietrich.' He had taken to calling Ben Herr Dietrich now that he was one of his esteemed customers.