Tandia

by Bryce Courtenay

  Harriet's next commission proved to be the one on which her later international fame would be built. The same church in Dresden for whom she had created the altar piece commissioned her to do the piece she had dreamed of for so long, the Walking Madonna. The sculpture would stand nearly eight feet tall in the grounds of the new church and was by far the most important piece she had been commissioned to do.

  As Harriet's creative juices rose so her libido fell. It was not that she consciously felt any differently about Peekay, but her preoccupation with the task ahead so completely filled her conscious thought and possessed her that Peekay was simply squeezed out. The Walking Madonna was the first major female piece she had done; it was also the fulfilment of a childhood dream, no different for her than the world welterweight title was for Peekay. She became almost completely introspective, the voice within her sufficient for her emotional needs.

  Peekay's split with Harriet finally came halfway through March. One day, Peekay ran the five miles to Cow Cottage to find Harriet in one of her dark moods, almost unable to talk. He worked silently for an hour in the garden. It was spring and after two years of loving care the cottage garden was back to its best, though in the past weeks both of them had neglected it and it needed weeding, which Peekay now set about doing. Peekay could never quite get over spring in England. The day before he'd driven from London back to Oxford in Hymie's little Prefect. The tulips had been out in the parks in a brilliant parade of red, yellow and white. Clumps of daffodils and crocuses were growing haphazardly out of the grass while bluebells spread an azure picnic cloth under dark old oaks. Peekay had thought of the snow three months earlier, and had imagined how the flowers had waited under a cold white blanket until a day such as this one, when they'd pushed with all their might and then shaken free their pretty heads to announce that spring had officially arrived.

  A shadow fell over where Peekay squatted beside a patch of sweet basil. He was pinching the small white blossom from the stems so the plants wouldn't go to seed early. He looked up to see Harriet standing beside him.

  'Dear, dear Peekay, you must understand it isn't you. I love you so very much, but you must wait until this thing is out of me. I can't go to your fights anymore. I can't include your fighting in my head at present.' She paused, waiting for Peekay to react, but Peekay was too old a hand at camouflage to reveal his feelings. He was silent, gathering his thoughts so that he would say the right thing, say it sotto voce, easily, without emotion, forgiving her, understanding, his hurt completely concealed.

  Finally he stood, wiping his soiled hands down the sides of his rugby shorts, like a small boy caught making mud pies. 'Don't worry, Harriet, I do understand really.' He'd put his hand out towards her, but she'd withdrawn from it, taking a step backwards. 'Please, Peekay. Please don't.'

  Peekay had called the Dolls' Hospital the following day and Mr Rubens had answered. 'Where you been, young man? My chess board is waiting, Doris is waiting, Miss Hans Kellerman is waiting. One month, three days and you are not calling.'

  Peekay laughed at the old man's chiding. 'Hello, Mr Rubens, how's my doll? Only two hundred more pounds to pay. How about a discount for early payment? May I speak to Doris, please?'

  'Wait, I find her.' Peekay heard the clatter of the phone as he dropped the receiver onto his desk.

  Peekay had enjoyed his first date with Doris. They'd had a good time and although she'd allowed him a bit of a feel-up, she wasn't going to be a pushover. At first it had been circumspect; he was in love with Harriet and although Doris did all the right things to him Peekay was able to resist the temptation. But Harriet blew hot and cold. Peekay, who was highly sexed, never quite knew how he'd find her; and finally his resolve crumbled. In his mind Harriet went to bed with him on her terms, when she felt like it. Doris, on the other hand, simply liked to accommodate him. Peekay was able to tell himself the meaning of the sex involved was not the same thing, that he was entitled to enjoy Doris and she him. Making love to Doris, he rationalised unfairly, was for the simple release of tension and not the sometimes almost mystical experience Harriet made of it, depending on her mood.

  Besides, Peekay found he liked Doris a lot. She was funny, like Togger. She seemed to enjoy being with him, as though she was out on a special treat, though she found many of his mannerisms 'dead quaint', like taking her arm when they went up steps and holding her chair out when they went into a working man's caf for a cuppa.

  They'd been out several times when Peekay first raised the question of the Hans Kellerman doll, wanting to know if it was for sale. 'Blimey, Peekay, maybe if you was a millionaire an' all, but I don't think so.'

  'Why, what's so special about it? Where did the old guy get it? I mean has he always had it?'

  'Funny you should ask that. About a year ago or something like that, this geezer walks into the shop with the doll. "Does we buy dolls?" he asks Mr Rubens. I'm standing behind the old man and I can see his knees start to shake, but the top half, the bit what's above the counter is cool as a cucumber. He looks at the doll, turns it upside down, pulls at its arms and legs, then shakes it. "Ja, it is a good doll," he says, calm as you like. It's a good thing the cash register is right next to him 'cause his knees is shaking something terrible, I don't think he'd a made it on his own. He rings the register and takes out ten pound and slaps it down on the counter in front of the man. Blimey! Ten quid for a bleedin' secondhand doll? The old bugger's gorn off his rocker.' Doris laughed suddenly. 'I think the geezer who brought the doll felt the same an' all. He grabs the tenner and scarpers, like a rat up a bleedin' drainpipe. No sooner is he gone than Mr Rubens picks up the doll and begins to- cry. Hugs it to his chest, great tears runnin' down his face.'

  'So you don't think he'd sell it to me?' Peekay asked. Doris looked at him curiously. "Ere, hang on a mo, we got hundreds of dolls. Why do you want that one? More particular, why do yer want a doll in the first place?'

  Peekay told Doris the story of Carmen's doll. 'So I want to get it back for her,' he concluded.

  'Blimey, I don't like yer chances, love. That doll means an awful lot to the old man. I'll ask him if you like?'

  'No, I'll think of a plan.'

  'What sort of a plan?'

  'I'll think of something.'

  Dops grabbed Peekay's sleeve. 'Please, anything else, but don't ask me to do it, I beg you, Peekay. It'd kill him, it would.'

  'Doris, what on earth are you talking about?' Doris looked close to tears. 'You only been nice to me because of her, haven't you? That was it all along, wasn't it?' She started to sob quietly.

  'Doris! What the hell are you on about?'

  'The doll! You want me to nick the 'Ans Kellerman, don'cha?' she sobbed.

  Peekay threw back his head and laughed. 'Christ, no!' He put his arms around Doris and pulled her head onto his breast. 'I'm a toff from Oxford, remember. Toffs don't go around nicking other people's dolls. Here.' Peekay handed Doris his handkerchief, 'wipe your tears.' Peekay suddenly realised that if he'd asked her to steal the doll she'd have done so, that Doris loved him enough to do it.

  'Doris, look at me. Your mascara's run, you look a right berk,' Peekay said, imitating Togger. He took the handkerchief from her hands and gently wiped where the mascara had run down her cheeks. Peekay sighed. 'I don't know, Doris, I can't take you anywhere,' he chided.

  The following Wednesday, Peekay took an earlier than usual train to London and called Mr Rubens. 'May I have a talk with you?' he asked.

  'Of course!' the old man replied. 'We both got a telephone, so talk already!'

  'No, I mean, privately, away from the office. Perhaps you'll let me buy you lunch.'

  'Lunch? Lunch costs money, my boy. We talk yes, but no lunch.' He gave Peekay an address, Duke's Place in the East End. 'Here is a synagogue, I will meet you two o'clock.'

  Peekay arrived a little early to find Mr Rubens already waiting for him. The little man
stood outside the giant doors of the ancient Great Synagogue. When he saw Peekay he pushed one half of a door open and waited with his free hand holding out a yarmulka for him to take. Peekay placed the tiny skull cap on the back of his head before they entered.

  Peekay's first impression of the interior was of its similarity to a church, though faintly oriental as well. He didn't know why, but he'd always thought of a synagogue as somehow different. More mysterious. He was amazed to see stained-glass windows and it was only the writing in Hebraic which suggested they, were any different to the stained-glass pictures of Old Testament scenes he'd seen in a Christian cathedral.

  'You are surprised I bring you here, yes?' Mr Rubens asked.

  'Yes, I've never been inside a synagogue.'

  'It is not so strange, I think?'

  'Well, no, it's sort of like a stripped-down church, you know, without the effigies.' Peekay whispered.

  'A Jew comes to the synagogue to talk. It is not necessary you talk soft, Peekay.'

  'I must say it's a surprising venue.' Peekay grinned, 'I'd thought maybe a couple of ham sandwiches in a pub.' Peekay blushed suddenly. 'I'm terribly sorry, Mr Rubens!'

  The old man brushed away his embarrassment.

  'Tell me something, Peekay. This talk we are having, it is serious, ja?'

  'Mr Rubens, I want to buy the Hans Kellerman doll from you.'

  Mr Rubens was silent for some time. Then he sighed and spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness looking directly at Peekay. 'Ja, I think this is maybe why you are calling me. But you know this is not possible?'

  Peekay's heart was beating fast. He didn't know why he was so nervous, he'd expected all along his offer would be rejected by the old man. 'Please, sir, I know the doll means a lot to you, but if you'll just let me explain why I need to buy it?'

  'Please, some respect! We are not talking about a doll, we are talking about a Hans Kellerman.'

  'Mr Rubens, you are not the only person who feels this way about the Hans Kellerman. Someone else loves it too!' Peekay said urgently, trying to impress his seriousness on the little man who now sat with his long coat still buttoned with his delicate white hands folded on his lap. Peekay began to tell Mr Rubens about Carmen, about how much it had meant to her, how much love had been vested in the doll and how it had been sold for a bottle of gin. Peekay concluded by recounting how Carmen had left home and how Togger searched every pawnshop in the Mile End Road and beyond in the hope of coming across Elizabeth Jane. 'Elizabet Jane, this is a name?'

  'Well, it would give me a great deal of pleasure to be able to give Togger the doll so that he could return it to his sister.' Peekay paused. 'I'd expect to pay whatever it was worth, Mr Rubens.'

  'Pleasure? Pay? What means this? You know what is krystal nacht?'

  'Yes, that was when Hitler's brown-shirts started breaking the shop windows of Jewish shopkeepers in Germany, early, at the very beginning, wasn't it?'

  'Ja, this is so, the boychick is not so stupid. Upstairs we are sleeping, underneath is my shop, a small factory for making dolls. It is maybe two o'clock when they are coming. They are breaking the window and on the wall by the shop they are writing Juden.' Mr Rubens smiled sadly. 'In the morning after comes my friend, Hans Kellerman. "Nathan, we must go. You must sell your shop. I have some money, we will go to America, maybe Hollywood. In America we can make dolls. Come Nathan, it is not so bad now, but this Nazi filth, this is only the begining. We must go!"

  'Hans, you are meshugganah, it will pass, you will see. We are Germans, they will not harm us. Maybe they break a little glass, paint a little paint. What harm? And you are Hans Kellerman, in Germany is only one Hans Kellerman the doll maker, the genius, they will not harm you. It is nothing, you will see, it will pass.

  'Hans Kellerman is shaking my hand. "Nathan, you are right. When you were the foreman at Schoenau & Hoffmeister and I was only two years an apprentice, it was you who told me to go on my own, that you can teach me no more. Always like a father, looking after me. Your family is my family. We stay together or we going together to America." Then he is giving to me a parcel. "For little Anna, your grandchild, for her birthday."

  'Inside is a Hans Kellerman doll. From the world is coming orders. From also the English queen. Maybe in one year Hans Kellerman is making ten dolls. Ten dolls only in one year and he is giving the most beautiful to little Anna. 'Two more times, in 1936 and in 1938 Hans Kellerman, my friend, is coming again, "Nathan, we must go!'"

  'But Germany is rich, under Chancellor Hitler my little doll factory is making good business. After they is breaking the glass I am not stupid. I make also my German foreman a partner and put on the front his name, Horst Teintzel - Puppe Fabrik. There is no more trouble. Little Anna is going to the gymnasium and is taking also violin lessons. My wife and daughter also, they don't want we should leave. But when Hans Kellerman is coming again in 1938, after two months I tell my friend, "You are right, it is time. We must go. We will go to America, we will go together to Hollywood!'"

  Mr Rubens paused. 'But when we go to the authorities, to get papers for travelling, it is not possible. "Hans, you must escape," I tell him. "You have no family, you must go, you are famous, in America they know you!" But Hans Kellerman is looking at me. "Nathan, you ate my family, we will go together!" But comes now 1939, Germany is invading Poland and it is too late.' The old man gave a deep sigh. 'It is too late for escaping.'

  Peekay grabbed Mr Rubens. Through the sleeve of his thick coat he could feel his frail arm. 'Please, Mr Rubens, you don't need to go on. I'm truly sorry I asked, I have distressed you!'

  'No, no, please, we are talking. It is why we are coming here, in the house of Jehovah, it is the first time I am talking since that time.' He smiled sadly, then looking directly at Peekay, he attempted to brighten his voice. 'So? It is good to talk, ja?'

  'Please, sir, I am most dreadfully ashamed, I should never have asked.'

  Mr Rubens' eyes opened wide in surprise. 'Boychick, what are you saying! We have here pain and despair, and we have here love and hope. This is why we are talking. You are telling me of Fraulein Brown who is loving her Hans Kellerman and also you hope to return it. Now we must decide to who belongs this Hans Kellerman. You want only the pain should win?'

  Peekay realised that he was required to take part in a bizarre debate. He felt inadequate, his emotional resources were always deeply buried. Now this old man required him to display them as a peacock might display its tail, strutting and posturing and challenging the small, brown hen called pain. He had never felt pain as Mr Rubens had, but he knew it nevertheless, was familiar with it from his childhood. But could he as easily come to terms with love? What did he know of love? It was at this moment that the bitter irony struck him, everything he knew and felt about love had been taught to him by Doe! Doc a German, a blue-eyed, once blond member of the master race.

  'No, we'll talk.' Peekay replied. He was facing a challenge from the old man; he must keep the sympathy from his voice or he would lose. He realised suddenly that if he lost, Mr Rubens also lost. The outcome of the debate was the continued life of this frail German Jew. 'So, I talk, ja?' Peekay nodded.

  'In 1941 comes the SS and also, wearing the uniform from the brown shirts, Horst Teintzel, my German partner. We are packing one suitcase for each person, and after twenty minutes the SS officer is saying we must go. Little Anna she is holding her tiny suitcase; in the other hand she is holding Rebecca, the Hans Kellerman. Anna is very beautiful, blue eyes and hair the same colour as ripe wheat. The Kellerman, it has dark hair and big brown eyes, a masterpiece!'

  The old man stopped talking for a moment, his eyes filling with tears. But when he spoke again his voice was steady. 'With his arms crossed so is standing Horst Teintzel by the top of the stairs. When little Anna is passing he is taking the Hans Kellerman. "Please! Please! Herr Teintzel, please give me back Rebecca!" little Anna is crying. "Sc
hnell Jude!" he is saying, "Go quick, Jew!" and he is pushing little Anna by the back so.' Mr Rubens jammed the flat of his hand into the air in front of him. 'My little Anna is falling down the stairs when she is breaking her arm.'

  Mr Rubens paused to explain. 'We did not know at that time what was happening to the Jews. My wife and my daughter are crying and little Anna is screaming from the pain. I am crying also, but saying to the SS officer we must take little Anna to the hospital. "Please, I beg you!" I am taking off from my finger a diamond ring. "Please take, take."

  The SS officer is taking the ring. "Ja, we will take her, but you cannot go there to the hospital with her! She has blue eyes and fair hair like a German. How comes this?"

  "'Her father, he was German," I am saying. "Please sir, let only her mother go with her." He is calling for the corporal. "Take the child to the hospital," he says to the corporal. The SS man is putting little Anna in the automobile, her arm is hanging like a broken doll and her face is white like a sheet. "Do not say she is Jewish!" the SS officer is saying to that corporal. Then he is smiling, "She is too beautiful to be a dirty Jew!"

  'Some people is standing there, they are watching how we are going, not smiling, just looking. When he is saying this, they clap. Horst Teintzel is standing by the window upstairs. "Here, Jew, catch!" He is throwing the Hans Kellerman on the road; the beautiful bisque head is breaking in pieces, like a cup on the kitchen floor.'

  There was a pause and Mr Rubens looked up slowly, speaking quietly. 'One woman in the street, she is picking up the Hans Kellerman. "Shame! How can you do such a thing to a beautiful doll!" she is shouting to Horst Teintzel. Teintzel is laughing. "See, it has black hair and brown eyes, it is a Jew doll!" All the people pulled back from that woman who is holding the broken Hans Kellerman. Then she is dropping it and walking away. The Hans Kellerman is lying on the road, only the back of the head is still on the body, there is no face.'