by P. G. Glynn
Otto was so hopeless on horseback that during a charge he would probably have fallen off and broken his neck before even engaging in combat with the enemy. Or, if they had fought in the same regiment, Ludwig could have had a hand in expediting his end. All in all, there would have been a strong prospect of Otto dying … and the thought of being rid of him had thrilled Ludwig. But he might have known Otto’s luck would kick in and save him since it invariably did. Instead of having to fight he had been given asylum … and it was Ludwig who in the fighting had almost lost his life. There was no justice and now Otto was home whereas if Ludwig had not sent that telegram the skunk would most likely still be in South Africa tending his orange grove. Oh, the unfairness of it … oh, the irony!
Well, Ludwig would not be beaten and had at least two aces up his sleeve. The first was Lenka, whom he had married soon after being introduced to her by Fritz Meyer. He and Fritz had fought together and shared many a confidence during the early days of the war. Bonded by a strong antipathy toward Otto they had become friends … and Ludwig was still in Fritz’s debt for the introduction to Lenka. Ordinarily Ludwig would never have stood a chance with her, but Fritz had helped swing the pendulum his way. Fritz had said she was highly sexed and that she needed more of a man than Otto in bed.
Lenka had, it seemed, told this to Fritz after breaking off her engagement to Otto because of his shortcomings. Having always prided himself on the size of his satisfier along with his ability to use it in the giving of pleasure, Ludwig had seen an opportunity to be one up on his brother. So he had spoken to Lenka early on about his prowess … and about how much better off she would be with him than she could ever have been with Otto. To his astonishment she had quickly agreed – even proposing marriage to him! Marrying her before she could change her mind, he had been enraptured with his bride. Imagine that he, Ludwig Berger, should have won such a beauty – succeeding, indeed, where Otto had failed miserably. How jealous Otto was bound to be! The fact that Lenka was Ludwig’s wife would rankle horribly.
His second ace was the way in which he had been investing his brother’s income for him. Otto had not fought in the war but would surely have wanted to play some part in it. If he had any feelings of patriotism he should have wanted this. So Ludwig had acted on his unspoken wish …
“I see a pair of bandy legs,” Otto said. His search had brought him first to the circular alcove off the small salon where they had often sat arguing in the past and, true to form, Ludwig was sitting where he had always sat at this hour. Ascending the three steps to his level Otto said: “To whom could they belong, I wonder. Oh, they’re yours, brother! This is like old times, isn’t it, Ludwig?”
“It is and it isn’t,” Ludwig said, self-consciously crossing his legs and watching as Otto seated himself opposite. “I think you’ll find that there are certain … differences.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. A glass of Sekt?”
Accepting the drink, Otto sipped it before he said: “So you aren’t a father yet?”
Ludwig took a deep breath. “Lenka and I decided to enjoy each other fully before bothering with babies … and there’s endless enjoyment in that department, believe me.”
“There would be!”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Otto grinned. “Simply that Lenka was a past master – or should I say ‘mistress’? –in the art of hedonism before finding someone mug enough to take her to the altar. Second-hand goods for practising on are one thing, Ludwig, but most men would draw the line at marrying a woman as shop-soiled as Lenka. I take my hat off to you, brother, for being so altruistic – or would gullible be a better word for it?”
“I’d forgotten how offensive you always were. You’re also a bad liar. I happen to know you’d like nothing better than to be married to her.”
Otto laughed uproariously, slapping his knee. “What a clown you are! I’ve married a woman worth twenty of Lenka. Can’t you see that for her it was a question of any Berger being better than no Berger? In marrying you she bought security and much-needed respectability. You, I suppose, bought beauty to offset the beast.”
“Shut your foul mouth!” Ludwig shouted. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I know, though, that you aren’t half the man I am … and could hardly have that on better authority.”
“On Lenka’s, you mean?” Pouring himself some more Sekt and leaving Ludwig’s glass half-empty, Otto said with a smirk: “Size isn’t everything. It’s how we use our utensils that counts in the end. Incidentally, while in Vienna I met a mutual friend.”
“Yes?”
“He has fallen on hard times and I didn’t recognise him to start with. He’s eaten up with bitterness, old Fritz.”
“Fritz Meyer? I thought he had died.”
“He almost did, by the sound of things. Perhaps if he had it would have been better for him.”
“That’s easy for you to say, when the sum of your experience is fun and games. While you were skulking in safety, doing as you’ve always done – nothing – and marrying scum, we were fighting a long and bloody battle for our country. You’ll never know just how long and bloody it was because you have a happy knack of burying your head in the sand and refusing to face up to any kind of unpleasantness – except, of course, the sort you generate with your louche behaviour. But I can confirm from first-hand knowledge that, during the war we fought, death did often seem the better option. It would have been preferable to hunger … and frostbite … and agony … and torture. But had we all lain down and died when a longing for death was upon us, I can tell you for sure that there would have been dire consequences. Or would you like to be ruled by Russia and browbeaten into submission by their cruel regime? I suspect not, yet are you grateful for our efforts on behalf of Bohemia? Of course you aren’t, being far too shallow to be capable of gratitude – let alone appreciation of even a fraction of what went on in your absence. There’s no depth to you, Otto – no understanding of life. But, believe me, there’ll come a time when you’re made to face your inadequacies … and if I can have a hand in that, I shall have. Nothing will give me greater pleasure, brother, than to see you suffer. That, above all, is what I’m waiting for. It’ll be worth the wait: worth all the indignities you’ve so loved undermining me with.”
Otto observed carelessly: “I’m beginning to wish I’d never mentioned Fritz!”
“You’ll be wishing plenty of things by the time I’m finished.”
“You’ll have some wishing to do, too, once I’m through with you. Where is it, Ludwig?”
“Where is what? Stop speaking in riddles if you want a response.”
“Where’s my money? Tonda tells me that I’m in the red, which is far from where I should be. I went to see him expecting my funds to have been accruing nicely, whereas instead … ”
“ … you checked your investments and found them worthless? Oh dear, Otto, and I’m responsible!” Cockily, Ludwig divulged: “The fact is that I invested as you’d have wished. It was obvious to me that as you were elsewhere and unable therefore to fight for your country you’d want to make some contribution to its future. Of course contributing money is in a very different league from donning battledress and doing one’s bit physically but, since you were … otherwise engaged, I racked my brain for a suitable avenue through which you could make some small gesture. It seemed essential to me, you see, that you should sleep with a clear conscience and … ”
“Cut the crap,” Otto interrupted, “and get on with it!”
Sitting back and lighting a cigar, Ludwig inhaled before saying: “I reckon I hit on the ideal investment for you. Knowing my idea would have your full approval, I instructed our mutual friend Tonda to start channelling your funds into … Austrian War Bonds.”
“Which aren’t worth the paper they’re printed on?”
“That is the position,” Ludwig admitted, his glee evident, “but it might easily not have been. Had we won the war … ”
&n
bsp; “I checked the timing with Tonda. You knew before investing which way the wind was blowing!” Otto thumped the table with his fist, wishing it were his brother he was thumping. “I must have been insane to leave my finances in your hands.”
“Insane or just congenitally lazy,” Ludwig stated. “Were it not for family endeavours you’d be penniless since it’d never occur to you to put in an honest day’s work. I doubt you’d know how. You’ve no sense whatsoever of responsibility nor of duty, yet you expected me to swell your funds for you. Why would I want to? I’d sure as hell have received no thanks for showing you a profit so it’s of no consequence to me if instead I’m responsible for a loss.”
“What a pity!” Otto said, standing and gathering his wits. “This little hitch will necessitate my having to stay on in Schloss Berger, instead of leaving as intended next month and settling in London. What with your mismanagement and the new currency restrictions I’m stranded here until my affluence is back. So you have no-one but yourself to blame for the fact that you’re stuck with me, brother.” He sauntered away saying over his shoulder: “Tell the lovely Lenka that I’ll see her at dinner.”
+++++
There were slices of melon, bunches of black and green grapes, pomegranates, strawberries, raspberries, bananas and, inconsistently, mushrooms. They all looked good enough to eat but were not for consumption. The fruit and fungi were painted exquisitely on the grand salon’s high ceiling.
The walls were wood-panelled and upon them hung portraits of Bergers past and present together with old snow-scenes. Most of these featured the Giant Mountains although there were some depicting travellers in Russia defending themselves against wolves. There was also a large painting of a naked man asleep – naked, that is, but for a solitary leaf.
A long table, seating thirty, was set with the family’s finest white linen (of their own manufacture), with gold-rimmed crested cream china, cut glass from Gablonz and the best silver, which the servants had polished till it gleamed. There were bowls of salad already in place, chiefly containing Otto’s favourite: cucumber tossed in sour cream. And there was an atmosphere of anticipation among the gathered relations. To welcome Marta’s beloved son home uncles, aunts and cousins had come from Mohren and Oberaltstadt. Her brother, Franz Kadlec from Kruh, was here with instructions to sit next to Emil, keeping an eye on him, and there was Jindrich, the third brother, who had brought his wife on a visit from Dvur Kralove. These guests’ seating arrangements started where the immediate family’s ended.
So at the top of the table would be Marta, her sons and their wives – two pairs having already arrived. The animated assembly awaited the newly-weds’ arrival.
One woman stood out from the rest, her sultry southern beauty setting her apart and drawing attention. Wearing a sleeveless white silk gown with a plunging neckline that revealed the full curves of her breasts, Lenka had coiled her black hair on top of her head. Because she liked to sunbathe naked in the castle grounds her whole body was baked brown and she was so conscious of it as one continuous entity that she wore no undergarments, preferring too to feel the silk directly on her skin. There was a sensuousness to silk that was lost if one wore a brassiere or knickers. How quickly would Otto notice that she was as ready as ever for him?
It had never taken him long in the past to notice her virtual nakedness … and now Ludwig had given her his brother’s message. What fun, to be married to one brother and fucking another! Undoubtedly there had been a hidden meaning in the words Otto had sent her. Not that she intended making things easy for him. He had always had everything too easy, which was why he lacked understanding about life … and why she must do things differently this time. Instead of showing instant willingness to jump into bed she must make him wait for her favours … make him pay for the pain he had caused her. After all the pain it was a wonder to Lenka that she was ready to trust him again. It wasn’t so much a question of trust as of love. She alone knew how hard she had tried to stop loving him after he cancelled their wedding and left Vienna, but she had tried in vain. Otto was in her blood and it seemed there was no expunging him. Yes, he still throbbed in her veins … perhaps especially when she was submitting to Ludwig. How could those two be brothers? Ludwig was as gross as Otto was refined … and he was as much use in bed as a poke in the eye. Small wonder that he had still not given her a baby when he was so useless. Not that she wanted his baby. Who would want to bear a child by a man as repugnant as he was? Which was why Lenka had been looking elsewhere for a father …
It wasn’t for want of looking (nor of finding suitable candidates) that she remained in her sterile state. So why was her womb still empty? Why was she not yet a mother when she so longed for a baby? Was God punishing her for Vati’s sin? Was this behind everything?
It might simply be that love was missing. She had loved just one man in her life and used the others. Her pulse quickened at the prospect of Otto fathering her child. Glancing up, Lenka saw him … standing beside a woman in white.
+++++
Reaching the top of the wide staircase that descended directly into the grand salon Marie rather relished the sudden hush below as heads turned to look at her and Otto and she had a strong sense of the theatrical. They were the stars of this show so she might as well make the most of it since she had long been starved of dramatic entrances. Knowing that she looked her best in the white silk dress from Spitzers, with its soft contours and flowing sleeves, she took the stairs slowly on Otto’s arm playing the part of a happy bride. Never mind that she had felt like killing him when he returned from his talk with Ludwig. Never mind that she probably would kill the complacent so-and-so once dinner was over. For now she was centre-stage and might as well show Otto’s family that the British knew how to behave.
There were further greetings waiting at the foot of the staircase. How many Bergers were there altogether? Shaking eager hands and accepting kisses Marie wished there were fewer. Everyone seemed to be talking at once and mostly she couldn’t tell whether they were speaking in heavily accented English or in German. For all she knew they were speaking Czech. It was an odd country, wasn’t it, that had two national languages? Yes, it was – and Otto’s relatives seemed without exception to be loudmouthed and voluble.
Then Marie met Lenka.
They, both wearing white, assessed each other as Otto introduced them. Marie, acutely conscious of Lenka’s décolletage and of her own high neckline, felt somewhat Victorian. She saw at a glance that her sister-in-law was wearing no undergarments and acknowledged that she had never before seen such blatant sexuality. This woman was not to be under-estimated. She was Trouble, as Sarah Hodgkiss would put it, with a capital ‘T’. “How do you do?” said Marie.
“I’m doing fine,” Lenka replied huskily, her dark eyes alight. “So, Otto has found himself a child-bride!”
Annoyed at having found no appropriate answer, Marie was now seated diagonally opposite Lenka at dinner. Otto was on his mother’s left, with Lenka between him and Rudolf, while Marie sat on Mama’s right with Ludwig next to her and Anna on his far side. Rudolf and Anna made almost as ill assorted a pair as Ludwig and Lenka. Anna wasn’t just fat: she was massive, whereas her husband was tall and slim, with long brown hair parted in the middle and curling to his shoulders and with a look about him of the aesthete. Did Rudolf see Anna’s hugeness as beautiful … or was it because she was so huge that he had mistresses? A movement on her plate then caught Marie’s attention.
She must be mistaken. Nothing could be moving among the salad … could it? She looked again. There was no mistake. Something was moving: a fat, slimy, repulsive slug.
As Marie sat transfixed, Lenka appraised the situation and suggested: “Eat it. The worst it can do is wriggle inside you.”
“I’ve a better idea,” Marie told her, picking up the grub between her thumb and forefinger and with a sure aim tossing it across the table, where it landed between Lenka’s breasts. “You eat it – or leave it to explore. The worst it
can do is wriggle in or over you!”
25
Marie was awoken by a thud and, once awake, lay for a moment wondering where she was. Had it been a dream that she was in Marylebone Lane with Uncle John?
It must have been, because even in the darkness she could see that this was not her bedroom above the street. And she could feel someone in bed beside her, as well as hear him breathing. In a rush she remembered who the ‘someone’ was … along with the events of last evening.
How satisfactory it had been to hear Lenka scream! Her scream had been all the more satisfying given her pretence not to be squeamish … and oh, the palaver as she fished for the offending slug in her cleavage! She had asked Otto’s help but fortunately for him he had resisted so Mama had rushed to the rescue, exposing one of Lenka’s breasts as she lifted it to remove the intruder, which she had then sent with a servant to the kitchen. Cook’s eyesight was failing, apparently, and she needed periodic reminders to wear her spectacles when washing lettuce and vegetables. Well, the episode had had its funny side and had been as good an introduction as any of Marie to the family. Otto had referred at bedtime to the sureness of her aim and had fallen asleep chuckling.
Another thud sounded, causing her to sit bolt upright. “Whatever’s wrong?” Otto asked drowsily, switching on the light and blinking at her in the sudden brightness.
“Didn’t you hear anything?” Marie asked him. “I did – twice. It sounds as if someone’s throwing things.”
“That’ll be Onkel Emil up to his old tricks.”
“Which old tricks?”
“When he lived in Prague he used to hear intruders and fend them off with vases and suchlike. He made so much noise that the neighbours complained – so Mama brought him here, where we have no neighbours.”
