‘Then there’ll be nothing left for you to see.’ Greta sat back in her chair and cradled her sherry. ‘And absolutely no point in you going back.’
‘They won’t have shipped back the countryside, and if a few bricks of the old house have been left standing, I’ll be content.’
‘Content!’ Greta exclaimed indignantly. ‘You have a harder heart than me, Charlotte. After all that we suffered as a family, all that we lost –’
‘It was a long time ago, Greta,’ Charlotte interposed, more exhausted by a quarter of an hour of her sister’s company than eleven hours spent in flight and queuing at airports.
‘Papa always said that you had a callous streak.’
‘He never said it to me.’ Charlotte had always known when her sister was lying.
‘I remember it all as though it were yesterday,’ Greta added.
‘Principally the happy times, I hope, Greta. I was telling Samuel Goldberg in the car on the way here that I’ve just finished illustrating a new edition of classic European fairy tales. Painting all those castles, woods, lakes, wolves, wild boars, princesses and dragons made me think of our childhood. We were happy at Grunwaldsee.’
‘Before the Russians took it from us,’ Greta said bitterly. ‘I simply cannot believe that you want to go back.’
‘I hope to be there before the end of the week.’
‘I’d rather die than see our old home destroyed. But then, you never were sensitive, Charlotte.’
Charlotte’s temper finally broke. ‘And you are even more reluctant to face up to facts now than you were at the end of the war, Greta.’
‘Luke, I need help in the kitchen.’ Taking her sherry, Marilyn went to the door.
Luke edged further up the arm of the chair, closer to Charlotte. ‘Your mother needs your help, now, Luke,’ Jeremy barked in his officer’s voice.
‘You only want me out of the way so Grandma and Aunt Greta can discuss politics and family history. Well, I’m entitled to know –’
‘See what you’ve done with your insistence on going back to Poland, Charlotte? Upset the entire family. Even dear little Luke.’ Removing a scrap of lace and silk from her pocket, Greta dabbed her eyes.
‘I think “dear little Luke” will get over it.’ Charlotte suppressed a smile at the wicked wink Luke gave her. ‘And it’s not as though I’m asking you to go back with me, Greta.’
‘What good does it do to open old wounds? I suffered. Oh, how I suffered …’
‘There, there, Aunt Greta.’ Jeremy went to her and patted her hand. Charlotte couldn’t help wondering if her son would have been as eager to console his aunt if Greta had a more direct heir than her two nephews.
‘The soup is ready,’ Marilyn announced nervously through the dining-room hatch. ‘It’s your favourite, Aunt Greta.’
‘Cream of asparagus?’ Greta brightened at the thought.
‘Carrot and coriander,’ Marilyn said apologetically.
‘Ah. A carton from the supermarket.’
Charlotte thought she saw even the normally implacable Jeremy heave a sigh of relief when Greta and her husband departed after dessert had been served and the coffee pot emptied.
‘Aunt Greta is very good to us,’ Marilyn said defensively as she gathered the cups on to a tray. ‘She’s very thoughtful, always bringing us plants for the garden, homemade jam, and bottled vegetables.’
Luke, who had disappeared upstairs at the coffee stage to try out the computer games Claus had sent him, returned in time to utter an ‘Ugh’.
‘I bottle vegetables and fruit, too,’ Charlotte reminded him.
Luke made a wry face as he took the chair next to Charlotte’s that John had occupied. ‘I forgive you, Oma, because, unlike Aunt Greta, you don’t try to make me eat them.’
‘Luke! Have you been drinking?’ Jeremy asked, somewhat superfluously given that his son was breathing lager and tobacco fumes across the table.
‘Me?’ Luke tried and failed to look innocent.
‘I’ll search that attic –’
‘I’d appreciate a hand with the dishes, Luke,’ Marilyn broke in.
Charlotte sensed that Marilyn was hoping to avert a full-blown row between father and son. ‘Help your mother, Luke.’ She surreptitiously slipped a roll of banknotes into Luke’s hand when she rose to her feet. ‘I have business to discuss with your father.’
‘We can go to my study, Mother.’ Jeremy was glad of an excuse that enabled him to overlook his son’s behaviour. Luke was becoming increasingly belligerent and difficult to handle. In the last two months, even mild reprimands had turned into full-scale confrontations. Jeremy had made no secret of the fact that he couldn’t wait for his son to go to university. His worst nightmare was that Luke wouldn’t achieve the grades required, and would be forced to spend an extra year at home re-sitting his A-Levels.
‘Do you need help with your business affairs, Mother?’ Jeremy asked hopefully. He ushered Charlotte into his study, closed the door and sat behind his desk, leaving her the only other chair in the room, an uncomfortable wooden upright. She felt like a petitioner facing a bank manager.
‘No, thank you. I have everything under control, but as I’m here I’d like to tell you about the arrangements I’ve made to dispose of my estate.’
‘I trust you’ve made a will.’
She had always been able to rely on Jeremy to leave sentiment out of financial discussions. ‘Naturally, and, as I’m hoping to avoid any argument or disagreement amongst the family after my death, if you don’t like what I’ve done, I want to hear it from you now. As you know, I made bequests to my grandchildren, rather than you and Erich. You’re both settled and have all the houses, cars and material goods you could possibly want.’
‘Erich has a summer house on Lake Garda.’
‘I always thought you and Marilyn made the better choice. By holidaying in different countries every year you’ve seen much more of the world.’ After turning his grievance into a compliment, she continued. ‘I’m proud of you and Erich, Jeremy. You’ve both built successful careers, taken care of your families and given your children every advantage of education and upbringing.’
‘With very little help from anyone,’ he observed caustically.
‘You and Erich were lucky in one respect; the sixties and seventies were a kinder era to the young than the present, which is why I have set up a trust fund for Luke. It should be enough to help with his university education and buy him an apartment like Laura’s.’
Jeremy frowned. Charlotte suspected that he was calculating how much of the money he had set aside for Luke’s education could be diverted back into his own funds.
‘I’m sure you’ve been very generous.’
‘It’s no more than I’ve done for my other grandchildren. You’re aware that I’ve also set up a trust fund for young Erich.’
‘You’re paying for young Erich’s education?’ His voice rose an octave higher.
‘As I did Laura’s,’ she reminded him. ‘Claus, as you know, refused to go to university which was why I helped him with his business.’
‘But Erich’s reading law. A barrister needs to study for longer.’
‘The trust funds are of equal size, Jeremy.’
‘And my children are very grateful –’
‘I’ve done no more than any grandparent would do in my position,’ she cut him short. ‘As for my remaining assets, I’ve disposed of them according to my wishes and no one else’s, and I’d like an assurance from you that you won’t contest my will. You accept that I am of sound mind?’
‘Of course, Mother.’
‘I have left the house and land in Connecticut to Claus.’
‘Left, as in a gift?’ he gasped incredulously.
‘He has lived there for the past six years. It is his home as much as mine.’
‘But there are two houses on the land.’
‘One of which he built.’
‘With money you gave him.’
&n
bsp; ‘Laura has an apartment, Claus a house. They were both paid for by their trust funds.’ She looked Jeremy coolly in the eye. ‘And, given that Claus’s house and mine are so close, it wouldn’t be fair to inflict strange neighbours on him after my death.’
‘Like me, for instance.’
‘What would you do with a house in Connecticut, Jeremy, other than sell it?’
‘Use it for holidays.’
‘I’m sure Claus and Carolyn will accommodate you if you ask them. But the decision has to be theirs.’
‘Claus has already had the same money as the others.’
‘He has also put up with my presence for the last six years.’
‘And your furniture, your jewellery – is he to inherit those as well?’ Jeremy enquired acidly.
‘The valuable furniture will be itemized in my will. With the exception of one or two pieces, my jewellery, such as it is, will go to Laura.’
‘But you have two daughters-in law.’
‘Who have amassed their own collections.’ She opened her handbag and extracted a small leather case. ‘Your father gave me these. He wouldn’t take them back when I left. I thought you might like them for sentiment’s sake.’
Jeremy opened the blue leather case. Nestling on a bed of faded, pale-grey velvet was a simple, narrow gold band, a second ring set with three tiny diamond chips, and a pair of earrings. ‘The infamous utility wedding ring,’ he mocked. ‘I had no idea they produced austerity engagement rings as well.’
‘Your father brought it back to me in Germany after one of his leaves.’ She almost added, ‘It would have been better if he’d found a more suitable girl to give it to,’ but she bit her tongue. It had been over between her and Julian for a long time. There was no point in raking up old resentments.
‘These, however, are quite lovely.’ He lifted out the sapphire and gold earrings.
‘Your father acquired them after the war.’
‘Acquired?’
She didn’t elaborate. How could she explain war-torn, defeated Germany to a man who hadn’t seen it? The fever that had infected the victorious troops, the plundering and pillaging – not that Julian would have participated in anything that offended his very British, gentlemanly code of conduct. Knowing him, he’d probably bought the earrings for a few marks from some poor woman desperate enough to sell heirlooms for food. Was someone in Russia selling or bequeathing the von Datski family jewels now? Jewels that had been stolen from her on the flight from Grunwaldsee.
‘This is very generous of you, Mother.’
She detected irony in his gratitude and knew he’d expected more. ‘I’ve told my solicitor to forward you and Erich copies of my will. There’s a clause I want both of you to sign, confirming that you won’t challenge it.’
‘If Claus is getting the house, and the children trust funds, who is going to inherit the bulk of your estate?’
‘The trust funds took up a great deal of my money, Jeremy.’
‘But surely not all?’
‘Thank you for your concern. I have enough left to live on.’ She deliberately chose to misunderstand him. ‘The residue, such as it is, will be distributed in personal bequests.’
‘May I enquire to whom?’
‘Does it matter? I’ve already told you that it’s not going to you or Erich. And now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to leave. It’s been a long day.’
‘You want to call Samuel?’
‘Please.’
He handed her the telephone. She dialled and spoke briefly to Samuel’s housekeeper before returning the receiver to Jeremy.
‘The car will be here in ten minutes.’ She left the uncomfortable chair. ‘You won’t contest the will?’
‘I’ll have to read it first and discuss the implications with Marilyn.’
‘If you take this to the courts, Jeremy, the lawyers will benefit at your expense, and your family won’t get a penny more than I’ve already given you,’ she warned.
‘I didn’t say that I wouldn’t sign. Merely that I was going to discuss it with my wife.’
‘How is your father?’ Charlotte asked as he opened the door for her.
‘Failing, but M ...’ He faltered in embarrassment.
‘You have every right to call Judith Mother, Jeremy. She’s been more of one to you than I could be.’
‘She looks after Father very well.’
Charlotte gripped the doorpost for support. ‘Jeremy, I didn’t want to leave you. You do know that?’
‘I wouldn’t have been happy in Germany.’
Like his father before him, he kept her at arm’s length. How did he know he wouldn’t have been happier living with her in Germany than in England with his father? But then, her relationship with her German son, Erich, was no closer or better. Perhaps it was a mother’s fate to bear sons for men whose influence eventually superseded and eroded the maternal bond. It had certainly been hers. Now, when she looked at the two children she’d borne, she saw strangers she didn’t like and could quite cheerfully ignore if it hadn’t been for the cherished memories of their babyhoods.
‘Will you be staying long with Erich?’ he asked, when they stepped into the hall.
‘No, I’m anxious to get home – to Poland.’ Even as she offered the excuse she shivered at the thought of Erich’s house, as cold and formally polite as this one, for all its luxurious furnishings.
‘When do you have to go back to America?’
‘Soon,’ she replied vaguely.
‘You will give Erich, Ulrike and young Erich our very good wishes.’
‘I will.’
‘I’m sorry we couldn’t go to the States for Claus’s wedding last year, but Marilyn’s parents are elderly and Father –’
‘Luke and Laura went to represent you.’ She looked at him. ‘It’s all right, Jeremy. It really is.’ She held out her hand and he shook it briefly, insensible to the warmth she’d intended.
‘You’ll call in on us on your return.’ He lifted her wrap from the hall cupboard.
‘I won’t be travelling back this way.’
‘You’ll be taking a direct flight from Poland to America?’
‘I have no firm plans.’ She sat on the hall chair.
‘You would have been able to negotiate a discount if you’d booked your return flight the same time as the outward one.’
‘It’s a little late to try to organize me at my time of life, Jeremy.’
‘Probably,’ he conceded. ‘But I can’t help wishing that the artistic temperament hadn’t manifested itself quite so strongly in Laura.’
‘She’s grown into a fine woman, Jeremy. I’m very proud of her and everything she has achieved.’
‘You are?’ he said in astonishment.
‘You’re not?’ She was even more shocked than him.
‘When she took her degree I hoped she’d teach, not go in for all this journalism nonsense. The programmes she works on are positively left-wing – and she can’t keep a boyfriend. Not that I’m surprised, given her personality. I keep telling her that men don’t like forceful, strident women.’
‘Perhaps “forceful, strident women”, as you put it, don’t need men.’
‘Laura learned the lessons you taught her well. You sound exactly alike.’
‘I can’t take credit for teaching Laura anything, Jeremy. Even as a small child she was her own person.’
‘And what kind of person would that be?’ he demanded. ‘She has no respect for anything, Marilyn and I value. Tradition, church, marriage, good, plain morality – the British way of life –’
‘Which, thankfully, like the life in most of the countries in this world, is now multicultural,’ she interrupted. Jeremy had inherited a streak of bigotry from his father that, given her own background, she categorically refused to condone or make allowances for.
‘If that’s your way of saying the English are now strangers in their own country, I agree.’
‘That’s not what I was saying at all,
Jeremy. Laura makes films that are seen and appreciated world-wide by people of every colour and creed.’
‘But where is her personal life?’ Jeremy persisted. ‘She’ll settle down if and when she wants to.’
‘That’s what we’re afraid of. She works with all sorts of unsuitable people. It’s not their religion Marilyn and I object to, or their colour –’
‘Then what, Jeremy?’ she interrupted.
‘The fact that she lived with one of them for two years without even telling us. He was a Somalian. And we had to find out from strangers that they were together.’
‘They could have simply been flatmates. Given rising costs, men and women do share houses on a friendship-only basis,’ she commented.
‘A likely story,’ Jeremy snapped.
‘Did you ever ask her about him?’
‘No.’ He looked closely at her. ‘Did you know about him?’
‘Laura talks to me about so many of her friends; I have no idea which one you are referring to. And, if she was living with someone, possibly she was merely being sensible. Marriage frequently leads to the trauma of a divorce these days. It must be easier – practically, if not emotionally – simply to walk away when things don’t work out.’
‘You approve of your granddaughter living with a man outside marriage?’ Jeremy was clearly enraged by the thought.
‘I wouldn’t disapprove.’
‘Claus is married.’
‘That was his decision, Jeremy.’ Charlotte took her wrap from her son. ‘And he made it after he found the right girl.’
‘But living so close, you must have influenced him.’
‘I like to think that we are good friends despite the family connection and age difference. But influence?’ She shook her head. ‘I have absolutely none. Like Laura, Claus is his own person.’
Marilyn joined them from the kitchen. It was obvious she had been eavesdropping on their conversation. ‘Perhaps you could have a word with Laura, Charlotte,’ she suggested diffidently. ‘Remind her that time is moving on and if she doesn’t settle down soon she will run the risk of ending up alone.’
‘Like me?’
Embarrassed, Marilyn shrank back.
One Last Summer (2007) Page 6