Fighting with Shadows

by Beryl Matthews

  Dieter ran through his childhood education and the war years. He kept it brief and to the point.

  When he finished, the Headmaster nodded. ‘I take it you don’t have any proof of your musical education?’

  ‘All was destroyed.’ Dieter’s heart beat erratically. Was this going to be the thing to hold him back with English schools? ‘If you would allow me to play for you, sir?’

  ‘Best thing to do.’ He stood up, grabbed a stick from the corner of the room and, leaning heavily on it, walked towards the door. ‘We’ll go to the music room. It will disrupt Class Eleven’s lesson, but I don’t suppose the little devils will mind.’

  Dieter was reminded of his old school when he reached the room. There were around a dozen children scattered about, each holding a different instrument, with various excruciating sounds coming from them as they tried to tune up. In the centre was a fine grand piano.

  The Headmaster rapped his stick on the wooden floor. ‘Quiet!’

  All eyes turned towards them and silence fell.

  ‘What are you doing taking this class, Baker?’

  A young man of no more than twenty-one flushed. ‘There isn’t anyone else available at the moment, Mr Hargrove.’

  ‘Well, they won’t learn much from you.’ The Headmaster snorted in disgust. ‘You’re tone deaf.’

  Dieter hid a smile as the group of ten-year-olds sniggered. He was becoming more hopeful by the minute. This school was in desperate need of a music teacher.

  ‘Right, Mr Cramer, play us Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 5, first movement. The music is all filed in order over there.’ He pointed to an alcove full of shelves.

  ‘I do not need the music, sir.’ He removed his coat, sat at the piano and played the piece as ordered.

  ‘Hmm.’ The Headmaster pursed his lips when the music stopped. ‘Impressive. You can read music, I take it?’

  ‘You choose and I’ll play it.’

  Mr Hargrove leant on his stick and surveyed the shelves stacked with sheet music. ‘Need something you don’t know …’

  ‘Sir.’ A boy stepped forward. ‘What about the piece I wrote for last year’s summer concert? He won’t have seen that before, and I’d love to hear him play it.’

  ‘Splendid, Philip, get it for us.’ The Headmaster raised his eyebrows at Dieter. ‘That will test your sight-reading skills.’

  ‘I am sure it will.’ Dieter bowed to the boy as he put the sheets on the stand. ‘You will turn for me?’

  Philip nodded.

  It’s a simple-enough piece, Dieter thought, as he scanned the first sheet, hearing the music in his head. Without hesitation he began to play. Some of it was unstructured and could use some further work, but there was a decent passage near the end, as if the composer had suddenly decided where he was going. The boy had promise.

  After the last note he took his hands off the keys and waited.

  ‘Gee, sir, I’ve never heard it played like that before.’ Philip’s face was flushed with pleasure. He dragged a chair up to sit beside Dieter, took the music off the stand and shuffled through the sheets until he found what he was looking for. ‘This section isn’t right, but I just can’t see how to change it.’

  ‘A pencil, please.’

  The boy fished one out of his jacket pocket and handed it to Dieter.

  ‘I believe something like this is needed.’ He began to write on the music. ‘This can easily be rubbed out if you don’t care for it.’

  Philip was oblivious to anything else and watched the changes with fascination. ‘Play it, please, sir.’

  Dieter ran through the section again, and by now all the children were clustered around the piano. Time passed unnoticed as they discussed and made changes. Dieter was so absorbed in what he was doing that he had forgotten he was only there for an interview.

  ‘Now you play it for me.’ He stood up and made Philip take his place at the piano. He listened with eyes closed. It really was rather good, and the changes he had suggested were only slight.

  There was much applause when Philip finished.

  Dieter smiled. ‘You show a great deal of promise.’

  ‘Thank you, sir, I can see where I was wrong now.’

  ‘You’ve got an accent.’ Another boy was staring at him in a curious way. ‘Are you Polish?’

  ‘No, I am German.’

  ‘Your English is good.’ A girl spoke this time.

  ‘That is because I was taught it at school, and I spent many years here as a prisoner of war.’ Dieter wasn’t going to hide anything from these curious children. If he did get the job, he wanted everything out in the open.

  ‘Did you go back home after the war?’

  The questions were coming from all directions now.

  ‘Yes, but there was nothing for me there. My home and family were gone, so I came back to this country. This is my home now, and I am happy here.’

  ‘Right, boys and girls, that’s enough questions. Back to your music.’ The Headmaster broke up the group.

  ‘Come with me, Mr Cramer, we have things to discuss.’

  As they left the room, Philip whispered, ‘Hope you get the job, sir.’

  ‘Thank you. Keep on with your composing.’

  ‘I will.’ He waved and so did every child in the room.

  ‘Well, you appear to have made quite an impression.’ Mr Hargrove sat behind his desk again.

  Dieter waited … hardly daring to breathe. The next few minutes would be vital to his future.

  The truck came to a sudden halt outside Angie’s cottage and she rushed to open the front door. She had been on tenterhooks all morning, wondering how Dieter was getting on. He walked in, turned to face her, his expression serious.

  He hadn’t got the job! She was bitterly disappointed for him. ‘What happened?’

  He shrugged, then lunged forward, lifting her off the floor, spinning her round and round, his laughter filling the front room. ‘I have been given the job.’

  ‘Oh, you tease.’ She wrapped her arms around his neck. ‘I thought you hadn’t got it. This is wonderful. I’m so happy for you. When do you start?’

  ‘After the Easter break. The other teacher is leaving then. He wasn’t there today because he was sick, but I met some of the children.’ He put Angie down after giving her a crushing hug. ‘Where’s Danny? I must tell him.’

  ‘He’s next door. Joe will be home for lunch and they’ll be eager to see you.’

  She watched him stride across the garden, a spring in his step. He opened the small gate and ducked through the archway. Never had she seen him so happy; he seemed almost boyish, and so like Danny.

  At last things were turning around for him. The future was looking better and better for all three of them.

  31

  The first snowdrops were in bloom, their tiny bells dancing in the sunshine, and daffodils were pushing their way through the soil. Spring was almost here.

  Dieter couldn’t remember when he had felt this happy and so full of hope. He was looking forward to his new job in a couple of weeks, and Danny had begun to follow him around like an adoring puppy. He still hadn’t called him Daddy, but this was enough for the moment. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake again and rush things. And the little boy’s burgeoning talent made him so proud of his son. Angie knew nothing about classical music. The popular tunes of the day were what she liked. Some of the classical music was lovely, but a lot she just didn’t understand. He was enjoying introducing her to different composers.

  The post had just been delivered and he glanced idly through the letters before leaving them on the kitchen table for John and Hetty. They had taken some time off and gone shopping. He was about to toss them down when he noticed one addressed to him. Frowning, he studied the postmark. Frankfurt? Who could be writing to him from there?

  He hastily tore open the envelope and inside was a short note from General Strachan and a couple of photographs.

  Dieter, we are in Germany at the moment tr
ying to help a woman find her daughter. She was shipped here from Poland during the war as a slave labourer and has never returned to her home. The Red Cross haven’t had any success, so they have asked us to see what we can do.

  During our inquiries we have come across a few people who lived in Dresden, and have enclosed some photographs in case you recognize any of them. A long shot, I agree, but we have learnt to follow up every lead, however tenuous.

  You can contact us at the above address in Frankfurt should you need to.

  Dieter sat down and gazed at the people in the pictures, shaking his head. He had never seen them before, but it had been a big city, so that wasn’t surprising. They would have to be personal family friends or near neighbours for him to recognize them.

  After shuffling through them again, he was about to slip them back into the envelope when something caught his attention. There were four people in one photograph: a mother, father and two grown-up children, one boy and one girl.

  What he saw had him surging to his feet and tearing upstairs for the small magnifying glass he kept in his bag. His hand was shaking as he held it over the girl. Gerda! No, it couldn’t be. The name on the back said she was Helga Manstein.

  Slithering down the stairs, his feet hardly touching them, he rushed into the kitchen and picked up the General’s note again. His heart was beating uncomfortably as he read it right through, but it gave no information about the family in the photograph.

  He sat down, taking deep breaths to try to calm his racing heart. Then he gazed at the photograph again. He didn’t care what she was calling herself, or why she had changed her name: this was his sister. He was certain. She had grown into a young woman, but he would recognize her at any age.

  He had to get out there!

  A quick glance at the clock told him there would be a bus to the station in ten minutes. Thank heavens he had money saved from playing piano in the evenings.

  It took him only five minutes to shove things into his bag, scribble a note for John and run for the bus. He made it just in time.

  ‘Auntie.’ Danny came through the gate in the hedge and stood beside Angie as she did some weeding. ‘I’m gonna practise my lesson before Dieter comes to hear me.’

  ‘All right, darling.’ She followed him into the front room. This was a regular Friday-afternoon visit and one Danny looked forward to – and, to be honest, so did she. She no longer denied that her affection for Dieter was growing all the time.

  As Danny arranged his cushions on the stool, Angie picked up the letter she had left on top of the piano and tucked it behind the clock on the mantelpiece. She was receiving regular letters from Bob. They were chatty and often funny, but he never mentioned their discussion or his improper proposal. A bubble of amusement rose in her. He was quite outrageous. His mother had hinted that as a child her son had been a handful to control, and, now that she knew him better, Angie didn’t doubt that for one moment.

  While Danny was practising, she went into the kitchen and began to lay the table for tea. There was bread, butter, home-made jam and a fruitcake she had baked last night. Emma often joined them for tea but not on a Friday. This was just for the three of them.

  She tipped her head to one side and listened. It just sounded like a jumble of notes hesitantly played, and she wondered how long it would be before he could play something she would recognize. Danny didn’t seem to mind the slow progress, though. Of course he was far too young at the moment, and she couldn’t help wondering what Dieter had been like at that age. Had he shown the same fascination with the sounds a piano could make? Yes, she was sure he had.

  The piano stopped and she wandered back into the front room. Had Dieter arrived and she hadn’t heard him? He had his own front-door key.

  Danny was standing on tiptoe, his eyes fixed on the clock. ‘What does it say, Auntie?’

  ‘Half past five.’

  He ran over to the window, craned his head to look up the road and came back to her, looking puzzled. ‘He’s late. It is Friday, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, darling, I expect he’s been delayed.’

  ‘He’s never late on Friday. It’s my special practice.’

  ‘Perhaps one of the animals isn’t well and he’s had to stay to help your grandpa.’

  ‘S’pose.’ His disappointment was great and showed.

  She tried to cheer him up. ‘Tell you what, let’s have our tea and I’ll make fresh when he comes. I’ve made a lovely cake, and you can stay up if he comes later.’

  After another look out of the window he followed her into the kitchen.

  By eight o’clock there was still no sign of him, and even Angie was becoming concerned. This wasn’t like Dieter. Danny was so disconsolate that he made no protest about going to bed.

  ‘We’ll go to the farm in the morning,’ she told him as she tucked him up. ‘There’ll be a good reason why he couldn’t come today.’

  Downstairs again, Angie couldn’t settle to anything. There was a nasty feeling in the pit of her stomach that something unexpected had happened – though she couldn’t imagine what it could be or why they hadn’t even been sent a message. She would have liked to run to the farm to see what was going on, but she couldn’t drag Danny out into the cold at this time of night.

  She poked the fire, hoping a cheerful blaze would dispel the feeling of disaster creeping through her. This was ridiculous! Annoyed with herself for allowing her imagination to run riot, she threw herself into an armchair and picked up a book she had been reading.

  It was immediately tossed aside when she heard the truck stop outside. He was here. Thank goodness.

  But it wasn’t Dieter. John and Hetty were standing on the step, and from their expressions it wasn’t good news.

  ‘What’s happened?’ She stood aside to let them in, feeling faint with panic. ‘Where’s Dieter?’

  Hetty gulped, unable to speak, and John fidgeted uncomfortably.

  ‘For God’s sake, tell me!’

  John cleared his throat. ‘I took Hetty to Bridgewater to do some shopping and see a film as a treat. When we got back, there was a note on the kitchen table from Dieter.’ He held a piece of paper in his hands, turning it round and round.

  She couldn’t take her eyes off the note. ‘What does it say?’

  ‘Well, it’s hard to read because it has obviously been written in a great hurry …’ John looked sad. ‘He’s gone back to Germany, Angie.’

  ‘No!’ She shook her head fiercely. ‘No, he promised he wouldn’t do that.’

  ‘He has.’ Hetty was stricken.

  Angie was furious, and more hurt than she could ever remember. Losing her parents and Jane had been devastating, but this was a different kind of pain. She had trusted him, believed in him, and even come to love him. ‘Why now? Everything is going well for him. He has Danny, a new job, and he’s been so happy. I don’t understand. Has he taken all his things with him?’

  ‘Only his working clothes are in his room, but he didn’t have much.’ Hetty sat down and bowed her head in exhaustion.

  ‘What do you mean he didn’t have much?’ Angie was incandescent with fury now. ‘He had Danny, he had me, he had the love and respect of everyone here. What more did the swine want?’

  ‘He says he’ll be in touch.’ John gave a helpless gesture.

  ‘What the hell does that mean?’ She grabbed the paper from John’s hand, reading it through several times. ‘He might have had the decency to say why he was leaving in such an all-fired hurry.’

  It was at that moment Angie realized it wasn’t just the three of them in the room. Danny was just inside the door, his face ashen, body rigid and fists clenched.

  Angie fought to control herself. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, darling, did we wake you?’

  ‘He’s gone away.’ His bottom lip trembled. ‘He promised he wouldn’t, Auntie. He promised.’

  She knelt in front of him, smoothing a lock of hair away from his eyes. ‘We don’t know why he had to go so suddenly,
but he’ll be coming back.’

  Danny shook his head so wildly he nearly toppled over. ‘He won’t! He told fibs. He doesn’t love us.’

  As a tear trickled down his cheek, she gathered him into her arms and sat down, cradling the devastated child. If she could have got hold of Dieter at that moment, she would have killed him. How could he do this to Danny? How could he leave without an explanation? He had betrayed both of them. She would not have believed he could do such a hurtful thing. To leave like this, without an explanation, without facing them, was cruel. It was also out of character; but, nevertheless, he had gone.

  ‘I’ll make some tea.’ Hetty disappeared into the kitchen.

  John sat opposite Angie, looking helpless and somewhat bewildered. ‘I can’t believe he’s left for good, Angie. That note was scribbled in such a hurry it’s almost illegible. Something bad must have happened to make him leave like this.’

  Angie was beginning to calm down a little. She knew her quick temper erupted suddenly, but it usually subsided just as quickly. Now the fury had been replaced with utter sadness. Danny had stopped crying and was sitting up listening to John.

  ‘Is he hurt, Grandpa? Is that why he left?’

  ‘We don’t know.’ John managed a smile. ‘But I do know he loves you very much, and he’s got the new job to start soon. You know how excited he is about that.’

  Danny pursed his lips. ‘P’raps he don’t want it now.’

  ‘I don’t believe that, sweetheart.’ Hetty returned with a tray of tea and a glass of milk for Danny. ‘We’ll hear from him soon and then he’ll tell us when he’s coming back.’

  ‘He went too quick.’ Danny slid off Angie’s lap and took the glass Hetty was holding out to him. He guzzled, looking over the rim, eyes wide and wet with the tears he’d shed. ‘It was naughty, wasn’t it, Auntie?’

  ‘Yes, darling.’ She sipped her tea, hands still shaking from the shock. ‘When he gets back, we’ll tell him off for upsetting us.’

  Danny finished his milk and nodded, looking much happier now everyone was saying Dieter was coming back.