A Dandy in Aspic

by Derek Marlowe

  “Wooooeee!”

  There was a shriek and Eberlin saw Caroline running out of the water, legs splayed clownishly as she jumped over recumbent sunbathers, then hurrying up toward him smiling and waving like a jazzed-up emerging Venus. All eyes turned toward her and Eberlin felt smugly possessive of her and found himself smiling back at her stupidly. One of the soldiers made a grab for Caroline’s ankle, but she leapt nimbly away and stuck her tongue out at him, then collapsed in a wet huddle in the basket chair.

  “Wow! Getting through that lecherous crowd is a horror,” she gasped in Eberlin’s ear. “Are all Germans as randy as they are here? Some dirty old Fritz kept grabbing at my pants while I was swimming.”

  “I’m in full sympathy with him,” replied Eberlin and pulled a wisp of wet hair from her forehead.

  She poked him in the ribs with her finger and laughed and said, “Got a fag, George?”

  Eberlin gave her one and they sat smoking quietly, staring at the water, Caroline put her arm on his shoulder and scratched her nose. “It’s just dawned on me. My clothes are in the trunk of the car. I’ll have to stay in this wet bikini till we go. Hate that. We never intended going in the water. Not getting wet, I mean.”

  “You’ll soon dry off.”

  “Horrid.”

  “Where’s Susan?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Floating around somewhere,” she said unconcerned, then added, “Fat thing.”

  Eberlin moved away from her and took her arm from his shoulder.

  “Caroline,” he said quietly.

  “Why are you wearing those dreary clothes? You were always such a super dresser–”

  “Caroline, listen to me,” he repeated and she clenched her hands between her knees like a schoolgirl about to be scolded. Eberlin glanced at the soldiers but they had drifted away and were talking to two girls by the ice-cream stall.

  “Look–I don’t expect you to understand,” he continued, “but don’t go acting all dramatic and thinking ridiculous things. I want you to forget my name is Eberlin. At least for the moment. You see I’m here–”

  He stopped to look at her but she was sitting frowning at her feet. He put a hand on her leg for a moment, then took it away and folded his arms.

  “Well anyway,” he said, “it’s all rather confidential, but you’ve got to trust me. I mean, telling you this is in confidence, you understand?”

  Caroline sighed and without looking up said in an irritated tone, “Oh dear, I don’t know why you’re getting all spooky about going around under another name. Mummy does it all the time when she goes away on a dirty weekend. She’s done it hundreds of times. But I think you’re sweet anyway for telling me.

  Eberlin smiled. “Well, it’s a bit different from that.”

  “God, I hope so, George. I’d hate to think that you’re shacked up with some rotten old fräulein in some hotel or something. Let’s have a swim and forget about it.”

  “I haven’t got a swimsuit.”

  “Oh yes. I forgot. Never mind. We’ll sneak back at midnight and do it in the nude.”

  He laughed and picked up the bottle to drink, realizing it was empty, and threw it away.

  “Let’s go, shall we?”

  “Where?” she asked.

  “I want to talk to you. Let’s go somewhere quiet.”

  “Oh lovely. Let’s have it in those woods and ruin all those silly army manoeuvers.”

  Eberlin turned her face toward him with his finger under her chin and shook his head in mock disapproval.

  “I think you ought to join your friend Susan, don’t you?” he said.

  Thrusting the last stub of the cigarette defiantly into her mouth, Caroline dropped back down into the basket seat so that her stomach stuck up in the air and her feet hung six inches from the churned-up sand. She tugged childishly at the loose straps of the bikini top and sunk into a pouting sulk. Eberlin waited.

  “I suppose you think I’m just a silly little child,” she said finally. “Yes,” he answered blandly.

  “Well I’m not,” she said and kicked him, hurting her toe. Eberlin smiled and offered to buy her ice cream.

  “Oh shut up,” she said and pulled her legs under, sitting up and pushing out her jaw and staring at the American soldiers nearby. “I know you think you’re so mature and superior and all that, but at least I don’t go around in silly clothes like some kind of spy or something.”

  “Oh I agree. The clothes you’re wearing now are nothing less than delightful.”

  “Well then …”

  “Well then what?”

  “Well, it’s just that I’ve been so bored tramping around Germany with Fat Susan, and then all of a sudden I meet someone nice like you and I suppose I behave a bit silly … oh dear, I’m not really so bad, am I?”

  She pulled a face at an American sergeant who had wandered near to where they were sitting, and was standing half-dressed, drinking beer from a can. The sergeant smiled and proffered a cigar. Caroline shook her head. The cigar was held out toward Eberlin, who, surprising himself, accepted. The sergeant approached the seat and put one muscled arm on the top and stood negligently looking down at Caroline’s breasts. Eberlin took the cigar with a “Danke schon” and lit it. The sergeant scratched his chin, keeping his eyes fixed steadily on Caroline’s body despite her angry glares, and spoke out of the corner of his mouth to Eberlin, under the impression they were both German:

  “Sie ist ein süsses Mädchen.”

  Eberlin agreed and Caroline turned her back on the American and busied herself with combing her hair now that it was drying out. The sergeant, watched by an amused Eberlin, made another attempt to attract her attention, but she yawned openly and ignored him. Then with calculated effrontery, he slowly poured the half-full can of cold beer over Caroline’s head. Eberlin moved aside, waiting for the onslaught, but there was no immediate reaction. Instead, with superb aplomb, she turned her face up slowly toward the American, her eyelashes flickering, and said in the sweetest possible way:

  “Fuck off.”

  There was an immediate stunned surprise from the sergeant, then he burst out laughing, and grinning over his face, held out his hand and shook Caroline’s hand, seized Eberlin’s hand and shook that, then walked away back to the others laughing loudly. Caroline continued calmly combing her hair.

  “I must congratulate you,” said Eberlin, “on a game played and won.”

  “Well, now you see what a girl like me has to put up with.” Eberlin smiled and touched her arm.

  “Come on. Let’s go back to the car.”

  They both got up and collected the few belongings. Then they crossed to the stone path and made their way up the three flights of steep steps to the lawns above. As they reached the top, a short bald-headed man emerged from the shadow of a beer stand and hurried quickly away.

  At the car park, Caroline took a sweater and a pair of jeans from the back of the car and was about to put them on, when Eberlin stopped her, calling over the hood of the car:

  “You’re not going to put those on over your wet things, are you?”

  “Why not? I can’t drive through town in a bikini.”

  “You’ll catch cold. Now put them back and you can wear my shirt. I’ve got a T-shirt underneath.”

  “No, don’t bother–”

  “Do as I say.”

  She pulled a face, then smiled and said quietly, “Keeping me in place, George?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you.” And she buttoned up Eberlin’s gray cotton shirt over the wet bikini.

  “I’ll drive,” he said and sat behind the wheel. “You just sit there and shut up till I find my bearings.”

  She pulled her mouth shut till her lips disappeared from sight, and sat straight-backed staring out of the windshield. Eberlin reversed the car, drove slowly down a maze of lanes till he found the Avus, then headed fast toward the center. As they were passing the Radio Tower, Caroline said suddenly:

  “Can I speak now?”<
br />
  “Depends.”

  “Just wanted to say that there’s been a car following us since the beach.”

  “Which one?–No, don’t turn around. Describe it to me,” said Eberlin.

  “Gray car. One of those funny German ones everybody has.”

  “Volkswagen?”

  “Is that what it’s called? Well, one of those.”

  “I know.”

  “Oh. Is it following us?”

  “Shouldn’t think so. This is the main route back to town, so it’s not surprising other cars are going our way.”

  “Oh,” Caroline said, disappointed. “Well, just thought I’d say it.”

  Nevertheless Eberlin was concerned. It was almost certainly a coincidence that the Volkswagen was following them but it made him jumpy. He turned sharply off the autobahn and cut down a side street leading to his hotel.

  “I’m going back to my hotel. You can change there.”

  He parked the car in the next street to Leitzenburger-strasse, and they hurried quickly to the hotel. Eberlin ignored the stares of the receptionist glaring at Caroline, and casually took the key to his room. Once inside the room, he locked the door and, on the pretense of opening the window, glanced out into the street, just in time to see the gray Volkswagen disappear around the corner. He turned back, lit a cigarette and sat on the bed and caught sight of Caroline on tiptoes gazing at the wall prints.

  “Room’s a bit dreary, George. Is this all it is?”

  “Yes.”

  “Just one room?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Oh well.”

  Eberlin lay down on the bed and rested his head on his arms, the cigarette sticking in his mouth. Unbuttoning the shirt, Caroline took it off, folded it and put it on the chair. “Towel?”

  “In the drawer. Bottom one.”

  His eyes strayed to her as she bent over and fumbled in the drawer for a towel and pulled out a white-and-blue-striped one. Then, standing in the middle of the room, she took off the bikini.

  “What on earth are you doing?” said Eberlin realizing suddenly that she was naked.

  “Pardon?” she replied casually, peering intently at a graze she had just noticed on her left elbow.

  “Do you always strip before strange men?”

  “The bikini’s wet and there’s no other room, and anyway you’re not so strange.” She smiled and looked at him, then at herself in the wardrobe mirror. “I think I look rather smashing except for a little weight on my turn. What are you making such a fuss about? I don’t mind you looking at me.”

  “That’s hardly the point.”

  “Stop moaning,” she replied, drying herself, “I’m an existentialist.”

  “A what?”

  “Isn’t that the right word?”

  “Exhibitionist is more to the point.”

  “What’s existentialist then?”

  “Well, it’s a little more complex than romping around naked.”

  “Oh, well–I must be the other thing then. What you said.”

  Eberlin watched her as she finished drying herself, then she took a cigarette from the side table and sat by him on the bed, toes turned in, arms to her side.

  “Won’t you catch cold?”

  “Immune to them.”

  She turned and smiled at him, then leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. He could see the reflection of them both in the wardrobe mirror opposite the bed. He lying there in those ridiculous clothes, and Caroline with her small naked body balanced precariously on the edge of the bed. He ran his hand over her stomach so that she gave a shuddering sigh until he brought his other hand back and slapped her hard on the bottom.

  “Ow!”

  “Get up and put some clothes on. It’s late and I’ve got things to do. Go on.”

  She got up and stood up rubbing the sore part of her body and pouting at the floor. Eberlin sat on the edge of the bed and handed her a cigarette, but she ignored him and slunk over to the window and stared out at the street. Throwing the cigarette on the bed, Eberlin walked over to her took hold of her shoulders and pulled her away from the window.

  “Look, Caroline, it’s no use going into one of your debby sulks. I’d be delighted to seduce you right now but I’m here on business and I’ve only got a few hours left. So take your thumb out of your mouth and make it easier for both of us by putting on these clothes.” He scooped up her trousers and sweater and dumped them in her hand. Keeping deliberately quiet, Caroline pulled on the jeans, zipped them up carefully, and slipped on the V-neck cashmere sweater.

  “It tickles without a bra,” she mumbled.

  “Lucky thing,” Eberlin replied. “Anyway, you look infinitely more seductive with your clothes on.”

  She gave a quick scowl and searched for the cigarette on the bed, found it and lit it.

  “What made you come to Berlin?” Eberlin asked her, leaning casually against the mantelpiece.

  “Just wanted to see it.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “What were you doing in Tripoli?”

  “I went there with Mummy. I told you. Why?”

  “Where are you staying in Berlin?”

  “At the Bristol. Why all these questions?”

  “How long are you staying here?”

  “I don’t know. Look, I’m not following you if that’s what you think.”

  Rain clouds had suddenly sprung up from the west and darkened the sky, so that Eberlin, becoming conscious of the gloom, switched on the light even though it was still only afternoon. Caroline didn’t move but remained sitting on the bed smoking the cigarette. The wet bikini was lying in a damp heap on the carpet. Eberlin picked it up and laid the parts over the windowsill.

  “You can collect these later if you wish. When they’ve dried out.

  Any questions?”

  With a shrug, Caroline looked up at him, looking through the straggles of blond hair over her forehead and then she smiled and said:

  “Yes. Where’s the john? I’m dying for a pee.”

  * * *

  Eberlin moved rapidly as soon as Caroline had returned to her hotel. He wrote two letters, one signed Dancer and the other Eberlin, then gathered all his belongings together and sorted out only essential objects he wished to take. He intended to leave his suitcase in the room in the morning, and create the impression that he had just left for the day. Satisfying himself that all was prepared as far as the hotel was concerned, he left his room, locked it, and took a slow walk back to the Zoo station. After eating a leisurely steak meal in the restaurant above the station, he collected his gun from the luggage locker on the ground floor. It was hidden in a camera case which he hung over his shoulder. Then he made three phone calls from the public call box near the booking office.

  At six o’clock he bought a copy of Der Tagespiegel and checked the details of cinema showings and times, deciding to see the revival of The Scarlet Pimpernel at Steinplatz. He had seen it three times before, during his first stay in Berlin; it was one of the rare films to be shown undubbed and seemed to have a curious attraction for the Berliners. Something to do with the similarity to the contemporary escapes over the Wall, Eberlin decided, but that didn’t mar his enjoyment of the film, sitting hunched up in the tiny cinema waching Leslie Howard with rapt attention as the Pimpernel saw home again, returned again to his native country after the regretted espionage was over.

  When Eberlin returned to the hotel, it was late and so he showered as best he could in the communal bathroom, and then got into bed and read till there was a knock on the door. He opened it cautiously to see Caroline standing outside, wrapped in an immense fur coat, and holding up a tooth-brush.

  “For an awful moment I thought you were askeep.” She smiled and then came into the room. He locked the door, and was about to switch on the main light when Caroline held his hand.

  “Don’t put it on, George. I’m not really such an exhibitionist as I made out.”

&n
bsp; And she turned away and stood facing the wall.

  “It’s late,” Eberlin said quietly and touched her arm. She turned back and hugged him tightly.

  “Let’s get into bed,” he said quietly. Caroline sniffed and nodded and he took off her coat and dropped in on the chair.

  Staring into the darkness an hour later, he lay in the bed, his arms around the thin warm body of Caroline curled up almost like a cat on his chest. Listening to her breathing as she slept, he felt a tender protectiveness for her. He bent his head and lightly kissed her breast, and heard her murmur contentedly in her sleep. Women were so fragile, so incredibly fragile.

  He was about to fall asleep himself, when he thought he heard a sound in the corridor outside his door. He held his breath and listened, and there was a faint but distinct knock on the door. Eberlin glanced at his watch. It was fifteen minutes after midnight. The knock was repeated and then a voice:

  “Herr Dancer?”

  Eberlin was silent for a moment listening, then gently eased Caroline away from him, sliding his arm under body for fear of waking her, tiptoed from the bed across the room to a drawer and took out the gun. Checking it, he slipped on a dressing gown, unlocked the door and opened it a few inches. A small, bald-headed man was staring up at him. Eberlin, keeping the gun out of sight behind the door, said quietly:

  “Was wollen Sie?”

  “Herr Dancer, I am sorry to bother you,” the man replied in German, rubbing the side of his head nervously with his hand, “but I understand you were the last to use the shower.”

  “What about it?”

  The man attempted to peer into the room but Eberlin moved in front of him.

  “Well, apparently, the plumbing isn’t very good, for Herr Elsner below complained of water seeping through his ceiling. Perhaps you-could come and see.”

  “At this time of night?”

  “I’m sorry to disturb you like this but … well the water is …” His voice trailed away and he rubbed the side of his head again. “Is the water still leaking?”

  “Well it is a little, Herr Dancer. We’re terribly sorry to bother you but … perhaps you could help me fix it before it …. floods everything.”

  Eberlin stared at him, then along the dimly lit corridor and then back to the nervous face of the man.