Stark Realities

by Stark Realities (retail) (epub)

  ‘I’ll fix it when we’re out.’

  ‘We go in at that doorway.’ He kissed her again gently. ‘Best almost to make a run for it, not stop for anything. Not scared now, are you?’

  ‘Should I be?’

  ‘You said on the telephone – unnerved.’

  ‘Oh – one minute not knowing you were within a hundred kilometres, or alive or dead, and then hey presto – and one has heard of this place—’

  ‘We have a private dining-room, that’s all. Talk as we like – even kiss, if the spirit moves us. It’ll move me, I admit.’ They were out ot the car, arms around each other. He assured her, ‘Nothing you don’t want, take my word for that.’

  ‘Waiters coming and going?’

  ‘Bringing the courses, naturally. One waiter only, though – old, discreet. And when we don’t want him—’

  ‘You’d send him away.’

  ‘Exactly. But come on, the fire’s waiting. Incidentally—’

  ‘Uh?’

  ‘There’s a lock on the door.’

  She sighed. ‘I thought there might be. I spent half the night wondering. One’s heard – you know, gossip—’

  ‘But again, I wouldn’t turn the key if you didn’t want me to.’ They stopped on the edge of a pool of light escaping from under the door. ‘I’m not forcing you into this, Helena. If you feel nervous at any time—’

  ‘You’ve been here before, obviously.’

  ‘Not upstairs – never. Never had anyone I’d have wanted to bring here anyway.’

  ‘But you know all about it…’

  ‘I’ve heard all about it. First-hand accounts from friends who have been here. What I was saying – speaking frankly, openly – if at any point you think I’m going too far, if it worries you—’

  ‘I’d say stop. Or please stop.’

  ‘If it came to that we could just eat the meal and drink the wine – leave the door open, even. Pretend we’re at Kramer’s – uh?’

  ‘Then I’d lose you, wouldn’t I?’

  ‘Lose me?’

  ‘I want you as much as you want me, Otto. And I don’t want a plaster saint. I’d have no use for one. You couldn’t look as you do and be one, anyway, I’m aware of that. But I want to feel safe – that it’s not just some casual affair, another conquest for you – and for me the consequences, maybe.’

  ‘There’s no question of a conquest, and there’ll be no consequences. I’m equipped to make sure of that. I love you, it’s nothing casual. As I told you—’

  ‘In that case I’m more likely to say please don’t stop. Let’s get to the fire?’

  * * *

  It was a good fire, bright enough to provide some of the soft lighting in the room, the rest of it coming from candles and an oil-lamp. The table, set for two, with candles in glass holders, was at the door-end of the room, and nearer the fire were two dark-green velvet-covered chaise-longues, one each side of it. Paintings on the walls were of ladies in elaborate but revealing dresses. The carpet was of Middle Eastern origin, predominantly amber, and in front of the fire was a sheepskin rug. Helena, still in her jacket and with the scarf around her neck and ears, had walked straight in and stopped in the middle, looking around as if making up her mind whether to accept it as she saw it; moving towards the fire now, hearing the white-haired waiter asking Otto whether he’d like him to serve the soup immediately, or wait until the Herr Kapitan-Leutnant and the lady had got the night’s chill out of their bones – and should he take the lady’s coat, or –

  She turned slowly, toasting herself in the fire’s warmth, at the same time opening her jacket and pulling off the scarf. The black dress hugged her figure, revealed more than a hint of upthrust white bosom. An enquiring look at Otto, who stared at her for a moment like a man half-stunned, before telling the waiter, ‘You can serve the soup in fifteen minutes. Don’t bother with our coats. Open this, please, leave it for me to pour.’

  The Gewurztraminer he wanted opened. The Burgundy was already uncorked – as it should have been. Otto took off his greatcoat with its shiny new epaulettes and threw it down beside Helena’s coat. Taking her hand then: looking down into her wide blue eyes, luxuriant mane of chestnut hair, exposed crescents of her breasts.

  ‘The most beautiful ever. I told you so the first time we met, but it’s an understatement, you’re sensationally lovely. You must know it too, huh?’

  ‘I know you think it.’

  ‘You take my breath away. I—’

  A movement of her eyes and head: he looked round to find the old waiter killing time, studying that long-necked bottle’s label before replacing it slowly in its ice-bucket.

  ‘Thank you. Fifteen minutes now?’

  ‘Jawohl, Herr Kapitan-Leutnant.’

  Otto’s lips on hers then, as the door closed. Remembering that he’d dreamt of this, in a pitch-dark iron coffin on the sea-bed with hunters overhead and the English coast less than fifteen miles away. This as the start of the sporadic, rambling, thrilling dream: her hands behind his neck and his own tentatively on the move. Telling her, ‘We’ve twelve minutes.’

  ‘Let’s sit?’

  ‘Don’t want wine?’

  ‘In a minute. Or say twelve.’

  Curtain-raiser, threshold of paradise. The wide straps of her dress sliding easily from her shoulders, his hands moving then to a small catch between her shoulder-blades. She pulled all that away then, let it drop. Firelight flickering on her breasts, and her whisper into his mouth: ‘Love you, Otto…’

  * * *

  By the time the waiter knocked on the door and Otto called him in, she was sitting upright and had her dress pulled up, its straps in place again on her shoulders. He’d done that, without replacing the brassière. He raised his glass to her: ‘You, Helena. Only you.’

  ‘Make it to us, so I can drink to it as well.’

  ‘All right. Us.’ He glanced at the old man. ‘That smells good.’

  ‘Does indeed, sir.’ Having set it all down, he was adjusting the positions of their chairs. Stooped, deferential, eyes never approaching Helena; Otto thinking, Poor old devil… Except he was no doubt well paid – and the tip would have to be on the lavish side. On his way now, but pausing to ask, ‘Should I attend to the fire, sir?’ ‘No. Leave that to me.’

  ‘As the Herr Kapitan-Leutnant wishes.’

  ‘Ready for soup, my darling?’

  Door closing – clicking shut. Helena joining him at the table. ‘Should you be calling me your darling in his hearing?’

  ‘Better than using your name, don’t you think?’

  ‘Well. Perhaps you’re right… This wine’s delicious, by the way.’

  ‘And you’re a dream I’m having. Can’t be anything else.’ Her nipples clearly visible through the material of her dress: more clearly still as they reacted to his appreciation of them. Remarking as he started on his bowl of soup, ‘You know, as far as the old boy’s concerned, I think you could be naked. He doesn’t look anywhere in your direction. Did when we arrived, but now he’s not taking chances.’

  ‘Bet you he would if I were naked.’

  ‘Bare to the waist, then.’

  A sigh. Looking down at herself for a moment. Then: ‘After he’s brought the last course, why not?’

  Gazing at her: ‘Helena…’

  ‘I never felt quite like, this before. So – wanton. It’s you, of course. You, Otto!’

  ‘And what d’you think you do to me?’

  A laugh. ‘I know, don’t I?’

  ‘If you don’t, I guarantee you will. But listen – while I think of it – as I said, Franz Winter’s due back tomorrow. Will he get in touch with you, d’you think?’

  ‘Quite likely would, but if they’re sending him straight out again, who knows…You’re asking will I mention that I’ve been seeing you. Well – if he asked me, I think I’d say yes. Say you took me to Kramer’s, maybe.’

  ‘If he asked me, I’d tell him I’m crazy about you, and express gratitude to him fo
r having introduced us. As it happens I’ve often asked myself why he did.’

  ‘All I remember is that he said to come and meet a young protégé of his. That you’d been his second in command, now had your own boat and were very successful, might even be approaching the status of an Ace.’

  He’d nodded. ‘Said some of that in my hearing, when he brought you to me. But the best theory I’ve come up with is that rather than leave you with certain others, he thought he was putting you in safe hands.’

  She laughed. He went on, ‘Might have thought I wouldn’t dare pinch his girl. If that’s how he thinks of you. And it’s a fact I’m rather in his debt – I wouldn’t personally describe myself as his protégé, but he did push me along when he was my CO. On top of that, when I was on the casing with him just before you arrived he was warning me against getting above myself. Does rather think he’s God, you know – despite the fact he eats like a pig – but actually I think he’d had some yarn from a friend of his in the Flanders flotilla, who might have been stricken with pangs of jealousy or – oh, resentment, I don’t know. He’s a friend of Winter’s and also a damn fool. Telling me what to do when I knew it better than he did, that kind of thing. So, old Franz having clubbed me into line, feeling confident that I’d behave myself?’

  ‘As distinct from dragging me up into that – what d’you call it – conning-tower.’

  ‘Dirty trick, wasn’t it?’

  Watching her nipples.

  ‘Playing dirty now, too. You know what that does to me.’

  ‘Certainly I do. I love to see it. Love you!’

  ‘Happens to be mutual. Aren’t we lucky?’

  ‘I know I am. The worst of times, and I’m happier than I’ve ever been. Isn’t that extraordinary?’

  ‘Have you made love to hundreds of girls?’

  ‘Certainly have not!’

  ‘Dozens, then?’

  ‘Believe me, no. A few, certainly—’

  ‘Quite a few, huh?’

  ‘Nothing like this, Helena. Nothing to compare for one split second with what I feel for you. I’ve never even dreamt it could be anything like this. Never been in love, I suppose. Oh, way back, puppy-love maybe…

  A double rap on the door. He cocked an eyebrow at her, she nodded vaguely, her thoughts still on what he’d been saying. This was the venison arriving: main course, if not main event. Otto making this allusion while the waiter was taking their soup bowls, replacing them with dinner plates decorated with hunting scenes. She murmured, ‘Can’t think what you mean’, and he told her, ‘I’m thinking of little else.’

  ‘May I pour the wine, sir?’

  The Burgundy. Otto told him no, he’d attend to it himself, and did so when the old man had shuffled off again: getting up, half-filling her glass and his own and replacing the bottle, then pausing behind her to slide the wide black straps off her shoulders.

  ‘You don’t object?’

  ‘My mind is concentrated entirely on the meal before us.’

  ‘Of course – it would be. But so lovely, my darling!’

  Looking down. ‘Quite ordinary, really.’

  ‘On the contrary. Entrancing – irresistible.’ Stooping – almost to his knees, brushing a shoulder with his lips on the way down, Helena half-turning and one of her hands moving to stroke his head and neck. She said, ‘Venison was a brilliant choice.’

  Still down there, kissing. She murmured, ‘You’re driving me quietly frantic, you know.’

  ‘Myself, too.’ Kissing her lips now. Then, straightening: ‘The choice was venison because the only alternative was rabbit.’ Back at his own side of the table, he sniffed at his glass. ‘Not bad… To us, again.’

  ‘And to the main event.’ She sipped at hers. ‘You’re right, it’s delicious. But – let’s distract ourselves a little? Forget about main events, ask me about my work and the trouble that’s brewing.’

  ‘Looking like that, you expect me to ask you about your work?’

  ‘Well, I’ll cover up, if—’

  ‘No, please—’

  ‘Did you know sailors were rioting today in Kiel?’

  ‘I did not.’ Looking her in the eyes now. ‘Is it true?’

  ‘I’m sorry to say it is. Malcontents from the barracks there, apparently – but hundreds of them. Officers were stopped in the streets and disarmed of their dirks, and the epaulettes torn off their uniforms. My department’s chief concern is to prevent it spreading to Army units and other towns. Your fear must be that it might spread all through the Fleet, turn into actual mutiny afloat.’

  ‘It won’t happen in U-boats. Or I think in destroyers. The battleships are a different matter. One’s heard of recent disaffection here in Wilhelmshaven. As I understand it, created and steadily worsened by political agitation, third-rate officers, inadequate rations and sheer boredom. But now – Helena – this truly is neither the place nor situation for such utterly depressing observations, so please, let’s—’

  Slow smile, and a nod towards him: ‘Depressing, Otto?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, no, but might become so if it continued. Despite the visual stimulation. Your shoulders are entrancing, too, Helena. And your hair, eyes, lips – all of you, darling—’

  ‘You haven’t seen all of me yet.’

  ‘Would you come away with me for a few days – if they’d allow it?’

  ‘I’d like to. Love to.’ Quick smile: ‘Wearing a ring, perhaps. But whether there’s a hope they’d give me leave – at this time especially—’

  ‘If everything is going up in smoke, though—’

  ‘Mightn’t it be best – I mean wiser – to stay put, in touch with our own people and authorities, at least until we know what’s happening?’

  ‘Might be the sensible thing. But then later—’

  ‘Later might mean a long, long time. Could extend to years.’

  ‘I suppose it might. From where we are now, we’re blind, aren’t we.’

  ‘If you’re thinking on the same lines that I am, it’s rather a fundamental issue, isn’t it?’

  ‘Could be. If we made it so. Yes.’ Surprising himself with that agreement and its implications, and re-hearing Gerda’s, So watch out… ‘So at this stage, when things might be expected to go from bad to worse, and perhaps very suddenly—’

  ‘I’d probably join my parents in Hamburg. And your people would want you with them, wouldn’t they?’

  ‘I suppose – if one no longer had naval duty. It’s an extraordinary thought. But – what we’re both saying – it need only be a stage, a temporary suspension, separation, a sorting-out period one might call it. Things couldn’t remain chaotic for ever. One way or another, chaos has eventually to subside. Although on the personal level, exactly what one would do – whether for me there’d even be a Navy to stay in, for instance—’

  ‘I rather doubt there will be. Nothing like the one you’re used to, anyway. Or an Army, or anything much else… Have I completely ruined this lovely evening now?’

  ‘Certainly not. You may have done your best to, but—’

  ‘I’ve eaten as much venison as I want, anyway. No room for cheese, either. I’ll watch you, if you’re still hungry, but—’

  ‘Profiteroles, then. Red wine goes well with chocolate. I’d better just dress you a little before I summon the old man.’

  ‘Might even manage to dress myself, but—’

  ‘I’d like to do it – if you’d permit—’

  ‘D’you know, I would?’

  * * *

  ‘Fire’s so nice. Like sunbathing. Except nine times as good.’

  Exposed to its glow and warmth together, on the chaise longue they’d used before. He’d built up the fire after they’d eaten the profiteroles, drunk most of the wine and summoned the old man to clear the decks, then locked the door, turned to find her already half-undressed and taken over the rest of it.

  ‘Now you, my darling.’ She’d interrupted his ravings. ‘Why do they give us two chaise-lon
gues, d’you think? Oh, my God…’

  He told her – ignoring that muttered exclamation, watching what she was doing now – ‘I suppose because we might be dining with friends, a foursome, and we’d need two.’

  ‘I don’t think I’d like that – would you?’

  ‘Much better on our own.’

  That had been half an hour ago. After the second lovemaking he’d fallen asleep, was woken by her sleepy remark about the fire. Tracing outlines on her with his fingertips until she squirmed around, had her hands on him again, asking him then, ‘Would we ever tire of this?’

  ‘If we did we’d be fit only to be put down, so what the hell.’

  ‘People do tire though, don’t they. Married people. When the newness wears off, I suppose?’

  ‘By that time I think that if they belonged together in the first place a new dimension comes into it. Sort of deep love more than in love.’

  ‘I’m in deep love with you now, though.’

  ‘Same here. Put it any way you like, though—’

  ‘Here, I’m putting it. If you don’t object.’

  ‘By far the best place for it. Brilliant, the ideas you have. And this way up – see, my hands are free and—’

  ‘I like that. Otto, Otto—’

  ‘Yes, you lovely creature…’

  After some more lazy time he agreed with her that they should be making their way home. Even the sort of dinner party he’d invented for the Muellers would have packed up by now; and the fog that had been worsening earlier might be really dense.

  ‘One thing I forgot to say – on the subject of Franz Winter, when or if he gets in touch with you – at least, if he asks you out, to dine with him or—’

  ‘He’d never suggest coming here, I can tell you that much!’

  ‘If he asks you anywhere, tell him you’re busy every night this week?’

  ‘What if he asks me who I’m busy with?’

  ‘Well – two options.’ Watching her step into her knickers while he buttoned his shirt. ‘One, tell him it’s none of his damn business, or two, tell him the truth.’