Mike told them they were driving along part of the route that was known as the German Clock road, passing more than thirty places where clocks were made.
They stopped mid-morning at one of the most renowned clock shops which boasted that it housed the largest cuckoo clock in the world. A middle-aged man clad in the form of national dress that was still worn in the country areas – dark green jacket and hat with a feather, knickerbockers and bright red socks – boarded the coach to tell them a little of the history of Black Forest clocks. His English was good, although no doubt well rehearsed after talking to countless visitors, such as themselves.
‘We have been making these clocks for hundreds of years,’ he told them, in the guttural voice common to so many of his race. ‘Ever since the seventeenth century …’ The clocks were carved by the peasants of the area who were always looking for ways to supplement their meagre income. At first they were simply carved wooden clocks, then, much later, a little house in the shape of a railway station was designed for the front of the clock. No one knows who first put the cuckoo in, but these were the first of the famous clocks that were now sold all over the world. Nowadays, not only cuckoo clocks were produced in the Black Forest, but all types of modern clocks and wristwatches.
‘Now, all of you will come with me, please,’ he said at the end of his talk, ‘I will show you the front of our cuckoo clock, the largest one in the world.’
They followed him to the side of the shop to view the enormous clock with the hands standing at almost eleven o’clock. As they stood there out popped an enormous bird from its huge wooden house, ‘cuckooing’ eleven times.
‘He measures one metre from his beak to his tail,’ their guide told them. ‘Now, if you follow me, please, I will take you into the shop.’
They entered the large store and were confronted with a display of fantasy and colour that had to be seen to be believed. It was a fairyland of delights from floor to ceiling; so much merchandise that at first they could only stand and stare.
‘If you wish,’ said their guide, ‘you may come with me to see the mechanism of the large cuckoo clock. It is worth a few minutes of your time.’
It was mainly the men, and a few of the women, who accompanied him up the stairs. Most of the ladies wanted to spend as much time as possible amongst the tempting goods that were calling out, ‘Come and buy me!’ They did not need the company of the menfolk, especially the ones who might say, ‘Good grief! Look at the price of that!’ or, ‘Come on, you don’t really want that, do you?’ No, they just needed a purse full of euros and time to indulge themselves to their heart’s content.
The pre-eminent goods for sale were, of course, the clocks. Cuckoo clocks of all sizes, some quite garishly painted in bright colours, others of dark wood, intricately carved, and most of them ticking away merrily, a constant accompaniment to the voices of the shoppers. There were other kinds of clocks as well; small mantel clocks, kitchen clocks, and larger timepieces, even a few grandmother and grandfather clocks standing against the wall.
They all walked around, up and down the aisles, examining the price tags, pondering what they could afford to buy, or what to take home for a present for a friend or relative. Some of the articles were inexpensive trifles – souvenir pens and pencils, bookmarks, simple wooden toys or cheap pottery vases and mugs – costing only a few euros. But they were in the minority. Amongst the goods for the more discerning were wood carvings of peasant folk, animals – mainly bears – and birds; brightly painted wooden nutcrackers, bottle openers, screwdrivers, salt and pepper pots in the shape of comical characters; cute Hummel figures of children; calendars for the forthcoming year with glossy pictures of the region; dolls in national costume; wooden puppets; soft toy animals, mainly teddy bears, some with the Steiff button in the ear.
‘Hello,’ said a voice at Jane’s ear. ‘Are you enjoying yourself?’ It was Dave who had been viewing the workings of the cuckoo clock. Some of the men had joined their wives now, others of them had gone outside for a smoke or a chat.
‘Yes, I’m quite mesmerized,’ replied Jane. ‘There’s such a lot to look at, most of it very tempting. You could easily spend a fortune – on things you don’t really need!’
‘That’s the idea,’ said Dave with a laugh. ‘To make you part with your money. You have to treat yourself, though, sometimes … and I must buy something for my mother and my son and his fiancée.’
‘Yes, so must I, for my mother,’ said Jane. ‘I’ve been looking at the cuckoo clocks, but I can imagine her saying that the cuckoo gets on her nerves, popping out every hour! So I’ve almost decided on a wood carving. There’s one of a deer that I think she might like; it’s quite small so she should be able to find a place for it. And I shall treat myself to a little carved bear. I like bears, although I know these are really very fierce in the wild. I much prefer teddy bears! And I’ll get a calendar for next year; it’ll bring back happy memories.’
‘Yes, my mother would like a wood carving,’ said Dave, ‘and I’ll get a cuckoo clock for my son and his fiancée … but that’s not really very personal, is it, seeing that we all live together? Never mind; we can all enjoy it … I’ll get a beer stein for Peter as well, and a little Steiff bear for Kathryn.’
They went their separate ways, each of them to choose their purchases. Jane took a little longer wandering around, deliberating about this and that. There was quite a long queue at the cash desk. Most of the people from the coach – mainly the women – were carrying one of the store’s baskets containing several items. The lady assistant packaged all the goods up very neatly, placing them in a distinctive carrier bag, along with a picture postcard of the cuckoo clock as a thank-you token.
Dave was waiting for her. He smiled as he handed her a bag. ‘A little present for you. As you said about the calendar, it will bring back happy memories.’
‘Oh, Dave … thank you so much!’ she exclaimed. She almost said, ‘You really shouldn’t,’ then she realized it was something he wanted to do – because he liked her? – and she must accept the gift gratefully. She peeped inside the bag, and there was a little Steiff bear with golden fur and a blue satin bow round his neck.
‘Oh … how lovely!’ She was almost crying with delight, and she wanted to put her arms round him and kiss him – they had exchanged a few kisses by this time – but of course she didn’t do so.
‘I’m glad you like it,’ he said. ‘I got one for Kathryn as well.’
Mike and Bill had come into the shop and were talking to the lady at the till.
‘They’ll be sorting out their commission,’ whispered Dave. ‘They’ll get a small percentage for everything we buy. One of their perks, but you can’t blame them …’
They all stood outside for a few moments enjoying the sunshine. Mavis had a bulging carrier bag.
‘I thought she was going to buy up the whole shop!’ said Arthur. ‘Not that I mind what she spends if she enjoys it.’ He chuckled. ‘She deserves it for putting up with me!’
‘How’s your indigestion?’ asked Jane. Arthur was not one to suffer in silence, and they had all known of his discomfort.
‘Much better, thanks,’ he replied. ‘I’m looking forward to my lunch. I had hardly any breakfast.’
Shirley and Ellen were both holding carrier bags. Shirley looked far happier than she had been earlier. ‘I’ve bought a couple of colourful scarves,’ she said, ‘They’ll add a touch of glamour to my top, till I get my case back. I was looking at the sweaters, but they’re not my sort of thing, far too countrified and homespun. Anyway, it’s too hot for jumpers.
‘And we’ve each treated ourselves to a little teddy bear, haven’t we, Shirley?’ said Ellen, as excitedly as a little girl.
‘We have indeed,’ replied Shirley. ‘Steiff ones, no less!’
Jane smiled to herself. It seemed that all women liked teddy bears, even the sophisticated Shirley. Dave was not near them – he was talking in a group of men a little distance away – so s
he could not resist telling them.
‘I’ve got one as well!’ she said, a little coyly. ‘Dave bought it for me.’
‘Oh, isn’t that nice!’ said Ellen. ‘You must be thrilled. You’re getting on very well with him, aren’t you?’ she whispered.
‘I think so,’ said Jane, wondering already if she’d said too much. ‘We’ll see. It’s early days yet …’
‘All aboard,’ called Mike coming out of the shop. They all climbed on the coach and stacked their carrier bags containing their purchases in the compartments above the seats.
Mike sat down behind the wheel to take his turn at driving, and Bill did a quick count of heads. ‘Two missing,’ he remarked. ‘It’s not surprising, though; it’s a very tempting place to linger. They’ll soon realize everyone else has gone.’
He knew who was missing. It was Christine and her sister from the front seat. They appeared after a couple of minutes. ‘Sorry, everyone,’ called Christine as she boarded the coach.
‘No, it was my fault,’ added Norma. ‘I got into a muddle with my euros.’
‘Never mind, it’s easily done, love,’ said Bill. ‘We’ll forgive you, won’t we, Mike?’
‘Sure,’ said Mike. ‘We’d better get moving though now, ladies and gents. We want to get to the lake in good time.’
Christine and Bill were forced to exchange glances now. He half smiled at her as her sister settled down in the seat by the window.
‘I hope I’m forgiven, too?’ he said, leaning down to speak to her. ‘It’s all over with me and Olga, really it is. If you’ll let me explain …’
Christine nodded. ‘OK,’ she said briefly. ‘See you later.’
What the heck! she thought. The chances were that it wouldn’t come to anything with Bill, but she had enjoyed his company so far, so why not continue to do so? By the time they had arrived at their destination, the oddly named Lake Titisee, she had decided to give Bill a chance to explain if that was what he wanted to do, but not to let herself get too involved. She had been happy enough recently with just her faithful friend Monty for company, and had not even considered embarking upon another relationship. On the other hand, she did not want to turn into a ‘doggie’ person, a middle-aged spinster with only a canine companion. Bill had seemed amazed on finding she owned a dog parlour. She must try to rediscover her more human and feminine side.
Mike stopped the coach a little way above the village at the spot where he would pick them up again in three hours’ time. So they had ample time to shop and browse, to enjoy a meal, or even to stroll all the way round the lake if they wished to do so, which would take about an hour and a half.
There was a chilly wind blowing when the passengers alighted from the coach. The lake was situated some 850 metres above sea level and the air was fresh and keen. The road which led down to the small resort of Titisee Neustadt became more crowded the nearer one got to the lakeside. There were shops and cafes aplenty, most of which catered for the tourist trade. Here were cuckoo clocks, wood carvings and souvenir items such as they had already seen in the home of the largest cuckoo clock, but many of these were of an inferior quality. It was an appealing street in spite of the touristy overtones which, for some, only added to the holiday atmosphere. The women lingered to stare into shop windows whilst the menfolk strode ahead.
There was a pleasant lakeside promenade and a landing stage from which pleasure boats left for a trip round the lake. There were a few brave souls swimming near to the edge of the lake, and further out a few waterskiers and yachts sailing in what appeared to be calm waters.
They were feeling peckish by that time. It was ages since breakfast time, but there was no shortage of eating places to choose from; posh and no doubt expensive hotels down to kiosks selling hamburgers and different kinds of wurst. (They soon recognized that the word meant sausage.)
All the lakeside cafes had their menus prominently displayed. You could dine inside away from the crowds or outside under a colourful umbrella that provided a shade from the midday sun. The problem was knowing which place to choose. There were so many serving identical dishes – bratwurst, goulash, Black Forest ham, pork with the inevitable dumplings – so how could you tell which of them had the best chef?
‘You find that the busiest ones are usually the best,’ Mavis remarked to Arthur. ‘If there’s hardly anyone there it might be a sign that the food’s not up to much.’
‘Well, for goodness’ sake, let’s sit down somewhere,’ groaned Arthur. ‘My belly thinks my throat’s cut! I’m famished. It’s ages since breakfast, and how can I keep going on a bit of bread and jam?’
‘Now, you know you couldn’t eat anything else. You had that bad indigestion,’ Mavis reminded him.
‘Well, it’s gone now. Let’s go in here or we’ll be wandering around all day.’
‘Yes, there’s a table by the window, and it’s nice and quiet inside.’ There was a goodly number dining outside and the food looked appetizing.
The table was covered with a green and white checked cloth, and the waitress, who handed them the large menu, wore a green dirndl skirt and a white peasant-style blouse embroidered with green flowers and leaves.
‘It’s all in German,’ said Arthur, but Mavis pointed out that the English was written in italics at the side.
‘Now, nothing too heavy, Arthur,’ she told him. ‘You may well be hungry but there’ll be a big meal tonight.’
They settled on a platter of cold meats including the Black Forest ham – which lived up to its reputation of being the best in the country – served with a simple salad of lettuce and tomatoes tossed in oil, and crisp bread rolls and butter. Arthur would have preferred his usual Heinz salad cream, but said he was comfortably full again after his meal and a half of lager.
They were not the only ones from the coach who had decided to lunch there. There was a couple whose names they didn’t know who waved to them from across the other side of the room. Then Mavis noticed Bill sitting down at a table outside. But he wasn’t on his own, nor was he with Mike. He was with that young lady who sat on the front seat, right next to him.
‘Look, Arthur,’ she said. ‘There’s Bill, over there, see. And he’s with that nice young lady who sits at the front of the coach. It looks as though there’s something going on there.’
‘Don’t stare at them, Mavis. It’s nothing to do with us, whatever they get up to.’
‘No, perhaps not, but I like to know what’s going on.’
‘You mean you’re just nosy!’
‘No, I’m not. I’m … interested, that’s all. Jane mentioned to me at breakfast time that she and Dave had seen the two of them last night – Bill and that lady, whatever she’s called. They were having a drink at a wine bar in the village.’
‘Well, good luck to them then,’ said Arthur. ‘I dare say it’ll just be a holiday fling. Coach drivers have quite a reputation for that sort of thing. Let’s hope the lass has got her head screwed on the right way.’
‘Oh, I think today’s young women are a lot wiser about the ways of the world than we were,’ replied Mavis, ‘I wouldn’t like her to get hurt, though. She seems a nice young woman. Bill seems a pleasant sort of fellow, too. I saw that receptionist, Olga, smiling at him when we arrived, and I thought it looked as though they might be … well, friendly, you know. I hope he’s not playing fast and loose with the pair of them.’
‘For heaven’s sake, Mavis, give it a rest!’ said Arthur. ‘I’ve told you, it’s nothing to do with us. Now, have you finished eating, or do you want a piece of that Black Forest cake?’
‘Gateau … No, I don’t think so, Arthur. It’s very tempting, but it’ll be coming out of our ears by the time we get home if we eat much more of it. Let’s have a coffee to finish off with. It’s very pleasant here watching the world go by. Then we’ll have a nice stroll by the lake. We’re having a lovely holiday, aren’t we, Arthur? Aren’t you glad we came to Germany?’
‘Maybe I am,’ he replied, a trifle gr
udgingly. ‘The hotel’s OK, and the food, and we’ve seen some nice views of mountains and what have you. But I don’t know about the folk, I haven’t made up my mind yet. I think they have long memories; they can’t forget that we won the war.’
It was Mavis’s turn then to tell Arthur to shut up. She caught the waitress’s eye and ordered two coffees. Arthur gave her a sheepish look. He knew by the set of her mouth that she was annoyed with him. But she would come round. She always did.
Outside on the terrace, Bill and Christine were studying the menu; at least Christine was doing so. Bill had decided that he would have Weisswurst.
‘What on earth is that?’ she asked. With her limited German she could work out what the word meant. ‘White sausage?’ she queried. ‘It sounds awful. Is it really white?’
‘You’ll see when it arrives,’ said Bill. ‘What about you? Do you want to try some?’
Christine grimaced. ‘No, thanks! I’ll stick to the normal bratwurst, and just a few chips, or whatever they call them here.’
‘Pommes frites, the same as in France.’
When the meals arrived, however, there were more than just a few chips. When the waitress had gone, Christine looked at the Weisswurst and shuddered.
‘That looks disgusting!’ she said.
Bill laughed. ‘It’s an acquired taste, but I’ve got used to it. It’s a dish from Munich, really.’
The fat white sausages, made from veal had been brought to the table in a tureen of hot water. They were flecked inside with parsley, and were eaten with sweet grainy mustard. Christine watched as Bill slit the sausage along the middle, separating the edible meat from the skin.
‘Don’t you eat the skin?’ she asked. ‘We always do at home, don’t we? And our sausages are pink or pale brown.’
‘It’s really very tasty,’ he told her. ‘No, you don’t eat the skin. Another way to eat it is to open one end and suck out the contents. That’s what the locals do, but I’ll use a knife and fork.’
First Impressions Page 13
