Tears of Autumn, The

by Wiltshire, David

‘Is everybody here for the Pompeii excursion? Please put your hand up if you are.’

  Rosemary, holding her arm in the air looked around. All seemed to be going, including the young, good-looking blond fellow with the dark-haired girl who appeared to be such a ‘sport’.

  The elderly man continued:

  ‘Do you mind if I speak mostly in English? Everybody seems to be able to understand, and it will save me saying things over and over again. Of course, if anybody needs clarification on any point, I do speak French, German and …’ he shrugged and rolled his eyes, ‘Italian.’ The ladies laughed at his joke.

  ‘Now, the taxis are waiting outside. Let us all get aboard – yes!’

  Everyone milled around the door and then walked to the cars lined up in the drive. Biff and Rosemary made for the one furthest away.

  Settled into the back, they waited to see whom they would be sharing with, but everybody seemed to find room elsewhere, and in the end they set off with just the two of them on the hourlong journey.

  The sight of the city frozen in time by the eruption of Vesuvius was nothing short of breathtaking.

  As the group moved from one building to the next in the huge excavation, they listened in rapture to their guide.

  Rosemary was particularly taken with the house of the Vettii, especially the fresco in the entrance of Priapus, weighing his manliness on scales against a bag of gold and, in another room, a sculpture of the same god, with a huge phallus that had once been a fountain.

  The elderly ladies seemed to be whispering a lot, and Rosemary and the other young English woman, though not standing together, seemed to be communicating across the group by half-suppressed giggles and glances.

  Biff felt acutely embarrassed; it would never have been allowed at home.

  Luncheon was laid out at a nearby restaurant. As Biff and Rosemary shuffled into the dining-room with its view down to the sea, they found that they were going to be sharing a table with the other young couple.

  For a second they all hesitated, then Rosemary held out her hand to the woman.

  ‘I’m Rosemary.’

  The woman took it, and said in beautiful English:

  ‘And I’m Anna.’

  She was the same height as Rosemary, but she had dark wavy hair, with lighter threads running through, falling in soft waves to her neck and curling over her forehead. Her face was symmetrical, her nose small; her dark-brown eyes, surrounded by long lashes, were bright with intelligence and humour and under eyebrows that had been only gently plucked. Her mouth was generous and full with just a hint of lipstick.

  ‘This is my husband.’

  The man was a couple of inches taller than Biff, but slimmer. His face, topped by a shock of blond hair brushed straight back with a parting on one side, was narrower but healthy-looking – like that of somebody who was always out of doors; it was a very patrician-looking face. He had a firm jaw with a dimple, and a strong nose, and his eyebrows and lashes were darker than his hair. His eyes were an intense pale blue. He gave a very slight bow and the faintest of a click of the heels.

  ‘Good morning, my name is Julius von Riegner,’ he grinned, ‘but they call me Konrad after my grandfather.’ He held out his hand.

  Biff was flabbergasted. They were Germans. His mouth wouldn’t work for a moment, then he managed a strained: ‘How do you do.’

  He reluctantly took the offered hand, and shook it – just the once, saying: ‘And I’m Jack Banks, but they call me Biff. Rosemary is my wife.’

  Von Riegner lifted the back of Rosemary’s hand to his mouth, and touched it, briefly with his lips, but Biff settled for shaking Anna’s hand, finding it long and elegant. The diamond ring was substantial and spoke of great wealth.

  ‘Biff?’ The German inclined his head. ‘What does that mean? I haven’t heard the name before.’

  He spoke with only a very slight accent, had obviously, like his wife, had an expensive education.

  Biff shrugged, and mimed an upper cut, despite the man’s obvious command of the language.

  ‘It’s from my boxing days.’

  Although Konrad had obviously understood, Anna spoke in German, explaining.

  Her husband looked at her and said something back, then turned to Biff and Rosemary:

  ‘Pardon us, my wife is a – how do you say it – a linguist, and she also makes it her job to make sure I’ve fully understood. She needs to be in control you see,’ he added with a mischievous grin. She hit him playfully on the arm and said to them in perfect English:

  ‘I’m sorry, but my new husband is still trying to be the boss – he really should know better and leave that sort of thing behind on his boat.’

  Her accent was flawless.

  Rosemary giggled. ‘I’m having problems too, with mine.’ This was news to Biff. ‘Have you been married long?’

  Anna rolled her eyes.

  ‘On our honeymoon, no less.’

  Chuckling Rosemary answered: ‘I thought so; we are too.’

  ‘Really.’

  The girls had obviously taken an instant liking to each other. Rosemary’s blonde hair, pulled back that morning in a ponytail ready for the day’s activities, bobbed up and down as she rattled on to Anna; the two women were soon in a conversation about their weddings as they sat down at the table. The men followed suit, and studied the menus.

  Because they were obviously getting on so well, and Konrad seemed a decent enough fellow despite being German, Biff tried to think of something to say to break the silence between them. Manners demanded it.

  ‘Boat? You are a sailor, then?’

  Konrad looked guarded momentarily, but then said: ‘Yes, but not on the sea at the moment.’

  ‘Oh.’ Biff didn’t know what to make of that. Perhaps they had to wait for cargoes to come along or something; he knew nothing of the operations of the mercantile marine.

  ‘And you Biff, what do you do?’

  For a fleeting second Biff wondered whether he should reveal that he was a pilot, Konrad being German, then he thought; hang it, he wasn’t giving away a state secret.

  ‘I’m in the Royal Air Force: a pilot.’

  Konrad’s eyes widened. For a moment he looked stunned, then he chuckled apologetically. Biff frowned.

  ‘What’s funny?’

  ‘I have not been as honest with you as you have with me. Please forgive me. I’m an officer in the Kriegsmarine – our navy, although at the moment I have a shore appointment, looking after a dotty old admiral.’

  They both paused, taking in the fact that they were in the same business, defenders of their countries, in a time of international uncertainty.

  Biff realized that Konrad was as uncomfortable as he was; it had been so unexpected. He couldn’t help but smile.

  ‘And we are both on honeymoon. What else do we have in common?’

  Konrad nodded at the girls. ‘They are both beautiful, and we are handsome – are we not?’

  He threw his arms wide.

  Laughing, Biff agreed.

  ‘Are you enjoying Italy?’

  It was Anna, looking directly at him with those incredible eyes.

  ‘Of course; it’s very beautiful, and the people are so friendly.’

  She nodded. ‘I’ve always wanted to come here,’ she shot a mischievous glance at Konrad, ‘but my husband wanted to go to boring old Switzerland – again.’

  Konrad protested. ‘Come now, my dear, you’ve always enjoyed Lucerne and Geneva.’

  Those beautiful eyes flashed. ‘Yes, that’s exactly it. I wanted to go somewhere completely different for my honeymoon, and I’ve heard so much about Naples, and Sorrento and the Amalfi coast.’

  Rosemary broke in enthusiastically.

  ‘Me too. It’s such a romantic place.’

  Anna agreed. ‘When you look out on that bay,’ she waved at the window, ‘and see Vesuvius, it’s amazing to think that the Romans saw exactly the same scene as they went about their daily business.’

  Ro
semary nodded vigorously, her ponytail shaking about her neck.

  The girls started off again.

  Biff shook his head. ‘You both speak excellent English.’

  Konrad smiled. ‘Thank you. It was required at my academy; you couldn’t get out of it even if you wanted to – and I didn’t. I’ve always admired the English. After all, you are fellow Saxons, are you not?’

  Biff could see that Konrad was having a little go at him, in good fun.

  ‘Yes, but not Prussians, thank God. Where are you from?’

  Konrad winced.

  ‘Touché. I’m from Erlangen – it’s in Bavaria, but my wife is from Berlin. That’s where I met her. She’s not really German, though; she can trace her ancestry back to the Huguenots.’ He gave her a gentle prod in the side. ‘You’re really French, aren’t you, my love?’

  Anna stopped talking for a second at this interruption, to look at him in mock disdain.

  ‘Your family are all peasants – despite the von!’

  He roared with laughter.

  They were interrupted by the waiter, who took their orders, then enquired about what to drink?

  Local wine was a natural choice, and mineral water – ‘senza gaz.’ Biff struggled with his few words, but Anna rattled something off in Italian and the waiter replied. In a rare slip in her command of English she nodded.

  ‘Ja, that will be fine.’

  Because they had only heard her speak in perfect English up to then, the ‘Ja’ came as a shock, and reminded Biff at least, to be careful what he said. They were so normal – just like themselves. Could they be carefully planted spies?

  Then he asked himself with embarrassment who did he think he was? Someone bearing high military secrets that the German Government had sent their top team to intercept?

  He must have been grinning because Konrad said: ‘Penny for them?’

  Startled, Biff flustered. ‘Oh, sorry, I was thinking of something that happened at a restaurant back home. Please, how rude of me. Now, what are you planning for the rest of your stay? When do you go back to Germany?’

  Konrad waved his hand elegantly in the air.

  ‘We have plans to go to Capri – of course – and then a drive up the coast. Mostly we play tennis, drink and enjoy the sun. It’s going to get cold when we return to Germany.’

  The thought of autumn didn’t worry Biff. ‘I like the colours of the trees. It’s a beautiful time of the year.’

  Anna leaned across.

  ‘A time of mists and mellow fruitfulness.’

  Rosemary was astounded. ‘You know Keats?’

  ‘Of course. I have a degree from Heidelberg Umversity in English studies, which includes literature.’

  Konrad drawled: ‘That’s all very well, Biff old sport, but it’s going to get bloody cold. Winter’s coming, is it not?’

  Anna winced at the put-on frightful stage accent of her husband.

  ‘Oh God, Konrad, shut up, you fool, you sound like a character from a Noël Coward play.’

  ‘Oh.’ He appealed to Biff for support. ‘You see what I’ve married? She is an ogress.’

  He got a thump for his troubles.

  Maybe it was the wine, but as the meal progressed they got more and more noisy and animated, talking of sport, art, music – anything but current affairs.

  When eventually the time came to board the fleet of taxis back to the hotel, they made sure they were in the same one: Biff in the front, with Konrad in the back, a girl on either side.

  Somebody started singing ‘O Sole Mio’. After they had murdered it, at least as might be judged from the look in the taxi driver’s eyes, Anna started up with ‘It’s a long way to Tipperary, It’s a long way to go …’

  For a moment Biff was stunned, but Konrad, breaking off from joining in with the girls explained: ‘We all know this song from the Tommies in the war. It’s very good.’

  So Biff sang as well. When they had finished Konrad all on his own started singing softly, a haunting refrain.

  Vor der Kaserne bei dem großen Tor

  Stand eine Lanterne and steht sie noch davor

  So wollen wir uns wieder seh’n

  Bei der Lanterne wollen wir steh’n

  Wie einst Lile Marlen.

  Anna winced. ‘It’s new, he’s been practising it at home on the piano. He was lucky to get the sheet music, Goebbels doesn’t like it. I wouldn’t mind so much but he sings along as well, it’s driving me insane.’

  He grinned mischeiviously at her. ‘It’s a lovely tune, very sad and romantic.’

  By the time they had got back to the hotel they were all half-asleep from the food, wine and warmth. In the hotel lobby they faced each other.

  Anna said ‘I’m going to take a shower and have a sleep.’

  Rosemary agreed. ‘Good idea.’

  On impulse the girls leant forward and kissed each other on the cheek.

  ‘Might see you later, at dinner?’

  Anna looked hopeful. Rosemary nodded, smiling.

  ‘That would be fine. Meet in the bar at say … eight o’clock?’

  ‘Excellent.’

  Biff and Konrad exchanged glances of mock resignation as the German said: ‘see what I mean, Biff? We are not bosses in our own lives any more.’

  ‘Come along, Oberleutnant zur See.’

  Anna took him by the arm and started pulling him away, waving with her fingers only to Biff. ‘See you later then.’

  When they’d gone Rosemary said: ‘They really are very nice, aren’t they? You were completely wrong about them.’

  He acknowledged her remark with a nod as he took her hand and made for their staircase.

  ‘I know, I know. But I thought they were English, and not quite right. How was I to know they were Germans?’

  ‘Can’t tell the difference really, can you?’ Rosemary taunted as he put the key in the door and opened it.

  On a sudden impulse he picked her up. Rosemary gave a little squeak of surprise as he flipped the door shut behind them with his heel.

  ‘Right, young lady, just so as you know who is boss.’

  He dumped her on the bed, and flung his jacket off as she lay still, looking up at him.

  ‘Oh, you’re so masterful.’

  Even he realized it must have been the wine talking.

  Chapter Six

  They were first down, and ordered two dry martinis. When the von Riegners eventually showed up Anna looked radiant. ‘Sorry we’re late.’

  Rosemary and she exchanged knowing suggestive glances as Biff ordered two more drinks.

  Before dinner they talked of families. Anna’s parents lived in Berlin, her father was a professor at the university, in the department of medicine, Konrad’s parents were more elderly, and had moved to Bamberg, a larger town than Erlangen.

  ‘They have found a much better apartment, close to shops and the bank. It is much more convenient for them.’

  ‘What does your father do?’ asked Biff.

  Konrad had taken out a packet of cigars and offered them. Biff had declined, but Konrad had begun lighting one. When he finished he screwed his eyes up in the cloud of blue smoke as he disposed of his match into a tray. He took the cigar out of his mouth.

  ‘Nothing any more. He is …’ he paused and questioned Anna in German who replied in English: ‘Retired.’

  ‘Yes, retired – he is retired now,’ continued Konrad, ‘but he was a naval man also.’

  He looked sheepish and added: ‘He fought at the Skagerrakschlacht.’

  Frowning, Biff was just going to say he hadn’t heard of it when Anna broke off what she was saying to Rosemary to interject: ‘You call it the Battle of Jutland.’

  Konrad added: ‘He was injured; his ship sank, you see.’

  Since it was obviously the Royal Navy that had sent it to the bottom Biff, out of good manners managed: ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

  ‘Don’t be; he did rather well out of it. Won the Iron Cross and survived the rest of the war.
’

  Biff felt a little uncomfortable talking about the war, but Konrad seemed quite happy. ‘And your father?’

  Biff nodded. ‘Infantry Officer. Stopped a Blighty one at Gallipoli.’

  Konrad was about to draw on his cigar again but paused. ‘Stopped a Blighty one?’

  Before Anna could intervene Biff said quickly: ‘He was wounded, severely enough to have to go back to England.’

  ‘Ah.’ Realization dawned.

  Konrad continued to draw on his cigar before saying: ‘We are both lucky, then. Our fathers came through.’

  They lapsed into silence, sipping their martinis, conscious that both families knew about service – and suffering.

  The atmosphere over dinner was lively. They discussed the latest shows; Konrad and Anna had both been to New York on the Hamburg Line.

  ‘The skyline was fantastic when we approached in the morning,’ said Anna. ‘The skyscrapers come out of the mist.’

  They’d been up the Empire State Building. ‘No sign of gorillas,’ joked Konrad in reference to the King Kong film.

  Anna had enjoyed the shows on Broadway, especially Babes in Arms and a song from it: ‘The Lady is a Tramp’ and her husband had visited the Stock Exchange.

  ‘Like a madhouse, Biff – a bloody madhouse. I don’t understand Americans; no class, it’s all money, money, money.’

  Diplomatically, Biff made no comment, although privately he was thinking of Anna’s ring and the obvious old wealth of Konrad’s family.

  They took coffee and brandies in the art nouveau garden room. The white grand piano was being played by a black man, his teeth gleaming against the dark of his face and dinner jacket, smiling as he crooned a love song.

  ‘He’s just like Hutch,’ said Rosemary dreamily.

  Whether it was the food, the warmth, or the excesses of the day, everybody seemed sleepy, and by 11.30 they had finished drinking and talking. They started to get up to go to bed, walking slowly along the length of the room.

  ‘What are you doing tomorrow?’ asked Rosemary.

  Anna glanced at Konrad before saying: ‘We have nothing planned. Just going to stay around, play some tennis, take the sun.’

  Rosemary stopped. ‘Tennis. You can play tennis?’