Alphabet House

by Adler-Olsen, Jussi

  It wasn’t the first time Laureen had gone over to the window that morning. Bryan got up, walked over and took hold of her shoulders. The sigh that escaped her was one of exasperation. The green lawn in front of Hotel Colombi was completely deserted. On the other side of the park, in the distance, came the faint sound of a train toiling its way over the railway’s many track crossings.

  ‘And Bridget?’ she asked quietly. ‘Doesn’t she know a bit too much? She was there yesterday, you know. She heard the malingerers mentioned by name.’

  ‘Bridget won’t be able to remember a thing, even if she’d had it chiselled into her brain. She was drunk yesterday and got even drunker during the evening, judging by her appearance this morning. Besides, it’s quite unlikely that the English newspapers would go into detail about the death of three ex-Nazis. She’ll never find out.’

  She dropped her arms to her side and tried to breathe deeply. The bruised rib was hurting more and more. ‘And he’s really supposed to come back with us?’ She locked her eyes on his.

  The question had been a long time coming.

  ‘Yes, Laureen, he is. That’s why I came here.’

  ‘And Petra, what does she say to that?’

  ‘She knows it’s best for James.’

  Laureen bit her lip and looked straight through Bryan. Her mind was reeling with a multitude of doubts and notions. ‘Do you think Petra can handle him, Bryan?’

  ‘She thinks so herself. We’ll have to see. He’s coming home with us.’

  ‘We can’t have him being near us, Bryan, do you hear?’ Again she fixed his gaze.

  ‘We’ll see, Laureen. I’ll work something out.’

  Petra and James were already standing on the platform when Laureen and Bryan arrived at the station. James was freshly bathed. He stood like a rock, casting sidelong glances down the endless row of railway sleepers. He didn’t return their greeting and didn’t let go of Petra’s hand for a second.

  ‘Is everything taken care of?’ Bryan asked.

  Petra shrugged.

  James avoided looking at them. Laureen watched him from behind her sunglasses, making sure Bryan stood between her and the others.

  ‘He’s a bit sad just now,’ Petra explained.

  ‘Anything in particular?’ Bryan tried to catch James’ eye in the bright sun. His face was wreathed in light. Rows of luggage trolleys and postal lorries were lined up on the adjacent platform, ready for the next working day. Their train had to be arriving soon.

  ‘He keeps talking about a scarf that’s disappeared. It’s the only thing he’s spoken about all morning. He had expected to find it at Kröner’s place. Gerhart thought…’ Petra paused. ‘James thought Kröner had hidden it in a little cardboard tube that he found in Kröner’s home. He carried that tube around under his wind jacket the whole time until we came home to my place. I think he got up twenty times last night to look in it.’

  ‘Was it Jill’s scarf, James?’ Bryan went up close to him. James nodded and was silent. Bryan held his side and turned to Petra again. ‘It was a scarf he got when he was a boy. The malingerers stole it from him while we were in the hospital.’

  ‘He was sure Kröner had put it inside the cardboard roll, but there were only drawings inside. That knocked him out completely.’

  Bryan shook his head sadly. ‘Jill was his sister. She died during the war.’

  Bridget arrived pretty late, strutting along the platform with such uncertain steps that, under different circumstances, Laureen would have hidden in one of the postal lorries. Instead she greeted her as if they hadn’t seen each other for years. ‘Bridget, you silly girl. At last!’ she said, hugging her and her luggage. Bridget nodded feebly to Petra and the man standing beside her, and completed her greetings by sending Bryan a look that would turn glowing coals to ice.

  When they got on the train it was as if their seating had been pre-arranged. James sat down at one end of the compartment while Laureen sat down at the other.

  Bridget stood at an open window to get some fresh air while Petra tried to peep out of the window under Bridget’s arm.

  ‘Are you expecting someone?’ Bryan asked. Petra stared sadly ahead of her.

  ‘We’re sure now, aren’t we?’ Laureen said, almost inaudibly.

  ‘Sure about what, dear?’ asked Bridget, looking curiously over her shoulder.

  ‘Sure that it’s the right train, Bridget!’ said Bryan curtly, cutting short Laureen’s half protest with a determined look. Sitting diagonally across from him, James hadn’t reacted at all to any of the sounds or movements in the train carriage. He seemed uncomfortable in the clothes Petra had found for him, and inspected all the passers-by on the platform for slightly less than a second each, as if he were counting them.

  Petra leaned her face against the window, trying discreetly to stave off the beginnings of a tear. Then she sighed and leaned back into her seat.

  ‘Good Lord!’ exclaimed Bridget. ‘Have you ever seen such a hippie? You’d think she was some kind of African with that bundle she’s got on her head.’ She drew away from the window a bit so the others could see what had caught her attention. Petra sprang to her feet when she caught sight of the woman and broke into a broad smile. ‘I’ll be back in a moment,’ she said, addressing James. ‘You stay here!’

  The reunion on the platform set off a lively commentary by Bridget, who didn’t budge from her seat, thereby filling the entire window.

  James’ face lit up momentarily when the two women entered the car. Laureen immediately noticed Bryan’s astonishment. ‘Who is it?’ she whispered in Bryan’s ear.

  ‘Hello, again,’ said the woman, giving Bryan her hand.

  ‘Mariann Devers!’ Bryan was flabbergasted.

  ‘We obviously have more in common than just my mother,’ she smiled, and embraced James. She adjusted her layers of clothing and looked into James’ eyes as she spoke tender words to him. Then she gave him another hug and studied Petra for a while until she was composed enough to bid them farewell.

  Just as she was about to leave the compartment, she turned to Bryan. ‘It’s rather a pity that you and my mother didn’t become a couple that time. What a family we would have been! Instead, now you’re taking my very best friend and my dear Erich from me. What do you think you’re doing?’ Her eyes were friendly, but she was obviously moved by this reunion. After hugging Petra again she disappeared off the train.

  ‘What happened?’ said Laureen, finally removing her sunglasses. ‘Who was that woman? What was all that about her mother, Bryan?’

  Bryan didn’t answer right away. He was looking at Petra. ‘That was Gisela Devers’ daughter,’ was all he said. Petra nodded.

  ‘Do you know her?’ he asked.

  Petra nodded again. ‘I knew her mother, yes. She was my best friend. When she died, I took care of Mariann. She’s like a daughter to me.’

  Bryan took a deep breath. ‘And she knew James?’

  ‘Erich, she called him. Yes, ever since she was a little girl. She used to visit him often, didn’t she… James?’

  The figure beside her gave a curt nod.

  ‘So she could have already led me to James the first day.’ Bryan took a deep breath and immediately clasped his side. It was a difficult fact to accept.

  ‘Yes, that’s right, if you’d shown her a photo of him.’ Petra thrust out her bottom lip. ‘She probably has several pictures of him tucked away somewhere. It wasn’t unusual for Gisela to take him along to family gatherings.’ She smiled quietly, stroking the back of James’ hand tenderly. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the window since Mariann Devers’ exit. ‘Sometimes he was even allowed to take the picture.’

  Bryan closed his eyes and could see Gisela’s blurred face before him in the first photo he’d studied at Mariann Devers’ place. The photographer hadn’t been very experienced. He fell back in his seat and knocked his head several times against the headrest, mumbling to himself.

  Bridget looked from him to Laureen and
back again. Just as she was about to say something, she was interrupted by a knock on the window.

  ‘Erich!’ Mariann Devers called out from the platform. James looked at her apathetically and tried to return her smile. ‘I nearly forgot. I think this belongs to you.’ She unravelled her multitude of scarves. ‘I’ve been wearing it for years. I stole it from Kröner. He bragged about having stolen it from you. It amused me to wear it when I was with him. He never discovered it!’ She hurled the piece of cloth in through the window, smiled at Petra again and turned away without a word.

  ‘Strange woman,’ said Bridget, just managing to duck in time. She had no desire to touch the object that had just flown down to the floor. James looked at it. The scarf was worn thin. It was blue with a decorative border and had a little heart embroidered in one corner. He picked it up gingerly and held it before him, as though it were something fragile and alive.

  Chapter 68

  Winter was not yet over. Laureen had been staring worriedly at the road as they drove the last few miles up to the house. Until now the trip had been no pleasure.

  ‘Must we, Bryan?’ she asked for the fourth time.

  ‘I must, yes. But you can still change your mind.’ Bryan splayed his fingers on the steering wheel, then gripped it firmly again.

  ‘How can we know he won’t turn nasty again?’

  ‘We’ve already discussed that, Laureen. It’s all over.’

  ‘Discussed, yes. But do we know?’

  ‘Petra says so, and so does his doctor.’

  Laureen sighed. Bryan knew quite well that she’d been dreading meeting James again for over four months now.

  Ever since they had come home.

  ‘I’m glad he settled in Dover and not Canterbury,’ she added.

  ‘I know you are, Laureen.’ Bryan checked the intersecting side roads. The traffic was thinning out, so their destination couldn’t be far. It wasn’t the first time he’d been in that part of the country, but it wasn’t the part of Dover he knew best. He shook his head. ‘And why would he have wanted to live there?’ he continued, without looking at her. ‘He has neither a childhood home nor any family left in Canterbury, and his sister, Elizabeth, lives in London.’

  ‘Why?’ The windscreen was fogging up inside and she wiped it clear. ‘I’ll tell you why.’ Bryan felt her looking at him. ‘Because you live in Canterbury!’

  Bryan smiled quietly. ‘That’s probably not much of a reason, Laureen.’ Heavy clouds behind the mist heralded the cliffs and the Channel behind them. ‘Petra says he never mentions me.’

  Laureen looked down at her hands. Their restlessness clearly revealed her state of mind. ‘Bryan, how’s it going with him, really?’ she asked.

  Bryan shrugged his shoulders. ‘The doctors think the scars they discovered when they scanned his brain were caused by a number of tiny blood clots. That wouldn’t surprise me.’

  ‘What are you thinking?’

  Bryan saw the image of a motionless figure before him, lying in bed with blank eyes, suffering the effects of electroshock and pills, the harassment by his fellow patients, plus isolation and constant fear. ‘I’m thinking about a lot of things, but primarily the blood transfusions they gave him. It’s a miracle he survived them.’

  ‘And how’s he doing now?’

  ‘As well as possible, I suppose. Petra says he’s making progress.’

  Laureen took a deep breath. ‘That’s comforting to know. Especially when you think of how much you’re spending on his treatment.’ She frowned and shook her head.

  Bryan knew she had noticed his uneasiness.

  ‘I’m sure it’s going to go all right today, darling,’ she finally said, as the landscape swept past. ‘Just wait!’

  The house was not big. Several of the properties Bryan had contemplated buying were considerably larger. Young evergreens stood along the stone wall, stiff and tinged with white by the frost of the previous day.

  When Petra came out to meet them it was clear that she had grown older.

  She gave a faint smile as she shook Bryan’s hand.

  ‘We’ve been looking so forward to this,’ said Laureen, returning her hug.

  ‘Thank you for the invitation, Petra.’ Bryan looked at her rather self-consciously. ‘I’m glad you’re ready to see us now.’ She nodded. ‘How’s it going?’ he asked, looking towards the house.

  ‘OK, I suppose.’ Petra half closed her eyes. ‘He won’t speak German any more.’

  ‘That was to be expected, wasn’t it?’ Bryan looked straight at her.

  ‘Yes, I guess so. But it’s difficult for me.’

  ‘I’m very grateful to you, Petra.’

  ‘I know,’ she said, smiling faintly again. ‘I know that, Bryan.’

  ‘Are things more peaceful now?’

  ‘Yes, but it was bad in the beginning. Everybody had to come here and see him.’ She pointed towards the land stretching towards the cliff. ‘They parked their cars right up to the back garden.’

  ‘Bryan has told me that, in a way, the Second World War lasted longer for James than for the Japanese man they found on an island in the Pacific a few years ago.’ Laureen tried to seem impressed.

  ‘That’s what they said, yes. Which is why all the curious people had to come!’ Petra gestured towards the front door in invitation. It was biting cold. She had no coat on.

  ‘We could have kept it secret if it hadn’t been for the authorities,’ said Bryan. ‘If only they could have found out which account to draw his pension from.’ James had yet to show himself. ‘Oh well, he got it in the end, paid retroactively. A kind of consolation, one might say.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Petra, opening the door.

  James sat in the living room, gazing out of the window. Light didn’t penetrate, even though the window faced directly towards the cliffs. Bryan sensed Laureen’s uneasiness as soon as she saw him, and she quickly retreated to the kitchen, which was Petra’s domain.

  Bryan tried to relax. James was looking better. He had put on weight and his eyes were kinder. Petra had been taking good care of him.

  He gave a start when Bryan spoke. ‘Hello, James,’ was all he managed to say.

  James turned his head. His eyes dwelt on Bryan for a long time, as if trying to arrange the separate elements of Bryan’s face into a coherent whole. He nodded briefly in return, then continued staring out of the window.

  Bryan sat at his side for half an hour, watching his chest heave up and down.

  The women were enjoying themselves in the kitchen. It was clear that their informal chat was doing Petra good, and Laureen had no intention of stopping. They looked at Bryan with curiosity when he came out to them.

  ‘He didn’t say so much as a word to me.’ Bryan made his way to the little dining table and sat down heavily.

  ‘He doesn’t say much, Bryan.’

  ‘Is he never happy?’

  ‘Sometimes, yes. But rarely. He hasn’t felt much like laughing recently.’ Petra took another cup from the cupboard. ‘I’m sure it’ll come back again. Some people would say James is already much better. But I think it’s going slowly.’

  Bryan looked at his cup as it was filled up. ‘If there’s anything I can do, please tell me.’

  ‘You don’t need to do anything.’

  ‘What about money?’

  ‘You give us plenty. And we have the pension, too.’

  ‘Just let me know.’

  ‘I will. And besides that, there are the drawings.’

  Bryan noticed an undertone of scepticism in Petra’s last comment.

  ‘The drawings?’

  ‘Yes, the drawings that were inside the cardboard roll James took from Kröner.’ Bryan’s face took on a puzzled look. Holding up her hand as a sign for him to wait, she disappeared upstairs.

  ‘Is he being strange, Bryan?’ Laureen gave him an anxious look that didn’t appear to want an answer.

  ‘A bit, yes.’

  ‘Perhaps we should have waited longer b
efore coming here.’

  ‘Perhaps. I think I’ll try and get him to go for a walk after lunch. Maybe we’ll be able to talk a little then.’

  Laureen put down her cup. ‘What? Are you mad?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I simply won’t allow it! You’re not going out to the cliffs with James!’

  ‘Whyever not, Laureen?’

  ‘It just won’t do. He’ll do you harm, I know he will!’ She spoke the words emphatically. Petra came down the stairs and noticed Laureen’s flushed cheeks.

  ‘I’m sorry…’ Petra said, preparing to go again.

  ‘There’s nothing to be sorry about,’ said Bryan. ‘I was just suggesting I’d go for a walk with James after lunch.’

  Petra caught Laureen’s eye briefly, then looked out into the yard.

  ‘Does he still hate me?’ Bryan almost dared not hear the reply.

  ‘I don’t know, Bryan.’ She frowned. ‘He never speaks about you.’

  ‘But it’s a possibility?’

  ‘With James everything is possible.’ She turned and handed Bryan the parcel she’d fetched. ‘Here, look at this.’

  The paper was yellowed and crumpled, the string thin and presumably just as ancient. An old newspaper came to view. Unterhaltungs-Beilage it said, in Gothic letters. Bryan turned the first page. The drawings lay there in a small bundle. He looked at them, then placed them carefully side by side on the kitchen table. He examined the paper and the signatures, looking several times at Petra. Then he sat down.

  ‘I can see why Kröner kept them for himself,’ he said. ‘Have you had them appraised?’