Treason if You Lose

by Peter Rimmer

  Two days after William flew out of Singapore on the first leg of his journey back to England, Joe and Bruno were discharged from hospital. The army doctor told Joe he would be asked to leave the Royal Engineers on medical grounds, giving them a small army pension for the rest of their lives. One of Joe’s kidneys was no longer doing its job properly. Cherry Blossom had never before heard of a pension for life that included her should something happen to Joe. Joe thought the army no longer needed so many regular soldiers. That the medical discharge was the easiest way of getting him out of the army now the war was over. All his kidney needed was a good clean out from the contents of a case of good Scotch whisky.

  The same army captain had told Bruno to take a boat trip home. He wrote the recommendation on the discharge from a medical procedure recommending Mrs Kannberg as the nurse to look after him on the trip. When Bruno phoned Arthur Bumley from the Major’s office at the hospital, they were given a free trip home, compliments of a generous employer. There was going to be a piece in the Mirror about the paper’s generosity for one of their own putting his life on the line for the readers of the Daily Mirror. Bruno had smiled at the irony of the generous employer deducting his current salary from the overpayment of his wife’s pension. In Bruno’s experience no one was truly honest when it came to money.

  With the squeeze on the Mirror, Bruno asked for a double cabin for themselves, not quite having the cheek to ask Mr Bumley for a first class passage. When they reached England he had his own ideas about the pension overpayment. If they did not stop their nonsense he would turn good public relations into bad. Having the readers howling for the editor’s blood. There was always a rogue freelance journalist with an axe to grind with the Mirror if William Smythe would not do the job in fear of damaging his own reputation with the paper.

  Joe’s house was very nice, he told Cherry Blossom, the small box room for the two of them paradise after prison. On their first night alone he and Gillian made love quietly so as not to disturb the rest of Joe’s family. His strength was returning with a vengeance. Gillian found a berth on a liner the next day. The liner was leaving Singapore several days later with Joe and Cherry Blossom seeing them off at the docks. When the ship broke away from the pier, hooting, a band playing, streamers breaking, as the first British families left Singapore in three years, Joe took Cherry Blossom by the hand, a small dainty hand that matched her small size. Bruno had told Joe all about Gillian’s liking for men, long before he met her. Some men were luckier than others, he told himself.

  “Didn’t you want to go home with them, Joe?” she asked him, the fear in her eyes outmatching the smile on her oriental face.

  “This is my home, Cherry Blossom. Singapore is my home. With the help of your father and some of the civilians I met in prison we are going to be rich.”

  “Oh, goodie. Really rich, Joe?”

  “Really rich, Cherry Blossom. So rich we won’t know what to do with the money.”

  “I never thought we’d ever be rich. Did you hear that, children? Daddy says we are going to be rich.”

  5

  In the following spring, when Patrick Smythe was four months old and Gillian Kannberg six months pregnant, Harry Brigandshaw and Klaus von Lieberman agreed to meet at Romanshorn, on the neutral territory of Switzerland near the shores of Lake Constance. The two families were to holiday together by the lake, Harry having arranged to rent a yacht on which they would live.

  The entire family, except Frank who was still somewhere in Rhodesia where he was moving around with his old schoolfriend Brian Tobin, took the ferry across from Dover to Calais where they boarded the train for Switzerland, with three changes of train ahead of them. Beth had finished her two-year course at secretarial college in London and was living at home, getting more bored by the day. Dorian had left boarding school at the end of the last term and was waiting to go up to Oxford. Kim was still one year from leaving school, enjoying the Easter holidays.

  Harry, no longer with a job at the Air Ministry, was working with Katherine, his old secretary, in a small office in Holborn trying to find enough work to keep them both busy. The real work in Brigandshaw Oosthuizen was being done by Tinus in New York; he and Genevieve had a small flat together, keeping a low profile while they enjoyed their lives as a couple. Despite trying, Genevieve was still not pregnant.

  Klaus had mentioned Gabby and Bergit would be there, but nothing of Erwin or Melina. For the first night the Brigandshaw and von Lieberman families were booked into the Romanshorn Hotel where Mr Tannenbaum was still the owner. The earlier conversation on the phone between Harry and Klaus had been tense. Face to face, Harry hoped the ice would melt, rekindling their old friendship. As he said to Tina when he put down the phone, “It’s worth a try. If this doesn’t work I have done my best.”

  When the families met in the hotel lobby everything was formal and polite. They could have been strangers.

  “Janet Wakefield sends her regards,” said Harry. “Your namesake Bergit Wakefield is eight years old. They are still in the same house in Chelsea.”

  “How nice for them,” said Bergit von Lieberman.

  “We have a problem with the yacht tomorrow. They say the weather’s going to be lousy for a couple of days. I hope you know how to sail a boat, Klaus. Growing up in Rhodesia in the middle of the bush there wasn't any water to sail a yacht. Well, you would remember that from your stay with us at Elephant Walk at the end of your honeymoon.”

  Harry had thought of asking about their son Erwin. At the mention of Elephant Walk where Bergit had conceived Erwin, she turned away, a look of sorrow on her face. Neither of the senior von Liebermans had asked the whereabouts of Anthony or Frank. The ice, Harry told himself, was still thick. Then they all moved into the lounge of the hotel with its small bar next to a grand piano. A few locals were at the bar, the tourists still not coming after the war. If Harry had not had American money to spend, his fifty pound British travel allowance would have kept him holidaying in England. At the piano with its lid up, a young girl sat playing Gershwin. American music seemed somehow out of place in Switzerland with the Alps outside the window white-capped with snow. Harry had seen Gabby look at the piano with interest.

  “Do you play the piano, Gabby? Last time we met was in that lovely restaurant on the pier. We shall all have lunch there again.”

  “Yes I do, Mr Brigandshaw,” she said, looking at the girl sitting on the piano stool.

  “Your English is very good. Of course, you were at school in Geneva with Melina. How is Melina? What kind of music do you play?”

  “She’s married.”

  “I’m so glad.”

  “How old is Melina?” asked Beth, looking around the lounge hoping to find some nice young men to relieve her boredom. Her mother also looked bored at all the formality and stiffness.

  “She’s twenty-three. Two years older than me.”

  “Then we’re the same age. I was twenty-one in January.”

  Taking their seats at the casual table on which was a big silver bowl of flowers, Tina Brigandshaw ordered them tea from Mrs Tannenbaum, the wife of the owner and sister of the man who owned the jetty restaurant.

  “You do drink tea in Germany?” said Tina to Bergit, not knowing what else to say; afterwards she said to Harry that at that point she could have cut the atmosphere with a knife.

  “When we can get it,” said Bergit.

  “The rationing was terrible. Is yours getting any better?”

  “No,” said Klaus, ending the conversation.

  While they all waited for the tea, the silence became physical. The girl at the piano stopped playing and went back to the bar. The bar apparently was open through the afternoon. To Harry, the girl looked more like a local than the resident piano player. Gabby’s eyes had roamed back to the piano, standing with its lid up all alone. Harry recognised her look of longing.

  “Won’t you play us something, Gabby?” asked Harry.

  “You won’t mind classical music?”r />
  “Of course not.”

  “A Bach fugue seems appropriate.”

  For a brief moment Harry thought he glimpsed a brief smile on the girl’s face. Then she went to the piano and began to play. The tea had arrived and Tina was pouring into the cups. The few people at the bar stopped talking. Someone from the kitchen appeared at the side door into the lounge, keeping it half open. Mr and Mrs Tannenbaum appeared from reception, a waitress having brought their tea. Dorian had his eyes glued on the German girl playing the piano. Kim had stopped fidgeting. When the first piece was over, Gabby started to play something else. The music was lighter in mood. Even to Harry’s untrained ear the music was beautiful. When Gabby finished playing everyone in the room clapped, the people at the bar getting off their bar stools to stand up. Gabby was smiling. Gave them all a brief bow and walked back to the long, low table where the two families were sitting opposite each other looking at the full cups of tea. No one at the table said a word.

  “She missed the Berlin Conservatory,” said Klaus after Gabby sat down and picked up her tea cup. “It was destroyed by Allied bombs so there’s nothing we can do about it now. What a bloody waste.” For once it seemed Klaus von Lieberman had forgotten his manners.

  “I have a friend in New York,” said Harry, thinking quickly. “At the Juilliard School of Music. Gabby, could I put in a good word?”

  “Oh, that would be wonderful. But how could father pay for me to go to America?”

  “It would be my pleasure. I have an office in New York run by my nephew. You may remember Tinus when we saw you here last time. He’s married to Genevieve, the actress. No, I suppose you would not have seen her films.”

  “Was he the older or younger of the boys at the restaurant?”

  “The elder. The younger was my son, Anthony. He was your age.”

  “Where is Anthony? I liked him.”

  “He was killed. His aircraft was shot down over Berlin.” As Harry mentioned Anthony, his voice choked. “Maybe this visit was not so sensible. There are too many deep wounds that all of us need to heal.”

  Harry had stood up and turned his face away.

  “Oh God, I’m so sorry, Harry, Tina,” said Klaus.

  “Dare I ask after Erwin?” said Harry turning around after waiting to gain control of his emotions.

  “He’s alive in body. So I’m told. Russian Front. They didn’t have any fuel left to get out when the Russian Army overran their airfield.”

  “Where is he?”

  “In a Russian prison camp.”

  “Haven’t they released the prisoners by now?”

  “Cheap labour. The Russians ignore any question of repatriation. For us, the war still hasn’t stopped, Harry. They’ll never get out of East Germany any more than they’ll get out of Poland. You want to go for a walk, Harry? Let the ladies and the youngsters enjoy their tea. Gabby, go and play them all some more music. Everyone seems to be waiting.”

  “Could I go to America, Papa?”

  “Somehow I’ll pay you back, Harry.”

  “You already have with friendship.”

  Outside it had stopped raining. A cold wind was blowing down from the mountains. They had both put on their overcoats. To anyone watching, it was two old men going for an afternoon stroll.

  “Where do you want to walk, Klaus?”

  “To the pier. We can have a drink together in the jetty restaurant. Our wives haven’t seen each other for a long time. Give them a chance to talk. Did you see the way Dorian was looking at Gabby? She was so looking forward to seeing Anthony again. They caught each other’s eye when you came to Romanshorn in 1938. To try and help me. That was all my Uncle Werner playing his games. Running with the hare and hunting with the hounds, I think you English say. Through history, we von Liebermans have survived with our estate by bending with the political wind. After the war you and I fought each other, the estate was bankrupt. I borrowed a lot of money from a Jewish bank in New York. Uncle Werner traded the mortgage on the family estate for the lives of one hundred and sixteen German Jews. Later it turned out Uncle Werner was part of the plot to kill the Führer. Hedging his bets as usual when he realised who was going to win the war. Now he’s part of the German committee to reconstruct Germany. General Marshall has a plan to use American money to put Europe back on its feet. Stop us going at each other’s throats again. It seems the Americans learnt a lesson from the harsh penalties imposed on Germany by the Treaty of Versailles at the end of our war. Uncle Werner’s got some new pet idea of a common market for French and German steel and coal. One minute I thought he was a staunch member of the Nazi Party. Now he claims he was a mole. You never know with survivors like General Werner von Lieberman. He’ll likely end up in a post-war German cabinet. If they don’t make him chancellor. I don’t understand politics. Do you, Harry?”

  “I keep as far away as possible. They’re all the same. We cherish the winners and lambaste the losers.”

  “Erwin really believed in a world order under German discipline. Now we will never know. The Russians are trying to manufacture their own atomic bomb. To be able to compete with the Americans.”

  “It never stops.”

  “Hopefully Europe has had enough for a while.”

  “I truly hope so.”

  “I’m so sorry about Anthony. In a better world they may have married each other. Binding our families together forever. Will you really put a word in for Gabby in New York? She has so much talent that should not be wasted. When you mentioned the Juilliard School of Music her face lit up. I’ll pay you the money back somehow. We can only try and do the best for our children.”

  “He’ll come back from Russia.”

  “I hope his spirit isn’t broken. By the Nazis and the Russians.”

  “What happened to your cousin Henning? Wasn’t he a hardened Nazi?”

  “Ran off to South America before the Russians collared him. Took one of the girls from Nazi intelligence. Melina, thankfully, saw the light. Married one of our pilots who was invalided out of the Air Force. She’s happy. Very happy. Henning’s either in Argentina or Paraguay. A lot of the Nazis fled Germany in the chaos… Don’t you think we’d better look at this yacht before we enjoy a drink?”

  “Do you know how to work the damn thing?”

  “I’ve been sailing on this lake since I was a boy, Harry. I’ll teach you how to sail… It’s good to see you again, Harry. Really good.”

  The Brigandshaw Chronicles will continue with the seventh instalment, Horns of Dilemma.

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  Principal Characters

  The Brigandshaws

  Harry — Central character of Treason If You Lose

  Tina — Harry’s wife, formerly Tina Pringle

  Anthony, Beth, Frank, Dorian and Kim — Harry and Tina’s children

  Sir Henry Manderville — Harry’s maternal grandfather who lived on Elephant Walk

  Emily — Harry’s mother who lives on Elephant Walk

  The Oosthuizens

  Madge — Harry’s younger sister and wife of Barend

  Tinus — Madge and Barend’s eldest son

  Paula and Doris — Tinus’s younger sisters

  The St Clairs

  Merlin — Eighteenth Baron of Purbeck, Lord St Clair

  Robert — Second son of Lord and
Lady St Clair

  Barnaby — Youngest son of Lord and Lady St Clair and one-time lover of Tina Pringle

  Freya — Robert’s American wife

  Richard and Chuck (Charles) — Robert and Freya’s children

  Lady St Clair — Mother to Merlin, Robert and Barnaby

  Genevieve — Hollywood actress and Merlin’s illegitimate daughter

  The von Liebermans

  Klaus — A WW1 German pilot shot down by Harry Brigandshaw in 1917

  Bergit — Klaus’s wife

  Erwin — Klaus and Bergit’s eldest son

  Gabby and Melina — Klaus and Bergit’s daughters

  General Werner — Klaus’s uncle who is high up in the Nazi Party

  Henning — General Werner’s son

  The Wakefields

  Horatio — Journalist at the Daily Mail

  Janet Bray — Horatio’s wife

  Harry and Bergit — Horatio and Janet’s children named after Harry Brigandshaw and Bergit von Lieberman

  The Rosenzweigs

  Sir Jacob Rosenzweig — A Jewish bank owner

  Hannah — Sir Jabob’s estranged wife

  Aaron — Sir Jacob and Hannah’s son

  Rebecca — Sir Jacob and Hannah’s daughter married to Ralph Madgwick

  Vida Wagner — Jack Rosenzweig’s German live-in lover

  The American Mandervilles

  Sir George (Cousin George) — Harry’s cousin who inherited the Manderville title

  Thelma — Sir George’s wife

  George, Henry, Bart and Mary-Anne — Cousin George and Thelma’s children

  Other Principal Characters