The two of our chaps escorting the guard told him to shut up. One of them punched him in the face, then the other said to leave off, that he understood how he felt but not to stoop to their level.
Anyhow, I took Dee to the medical quarters, said the guard had told me her name, and left her there.
I worked around the clock for three days in that place, just catnapping here and there to get a bit of sleep. I must have helped hundreds over to the medical tent, and – using what SS guards were left – I must have helped bury thousands; we had to use a bulldozer in the end to push their corpses into a pit. There’s no way you can forget the sights and smells – it was so disgusting. But what’s stuck with me most – the thing I’ve never been able to get out of my mind – is that young girl. I always prayed she’d recovered and got her health back. I still wonder what happened to her. Even now after all these years.
The film ended, and for a few minutes Susannah sat with her eyes locked onto the blank screen.
She groaned, which made the young couple who had come in earlier look over to her. Then she shook her head slightly and dropped her face into her hands. Her shoulders started to quiver slightly, and then with greater movement.
After a few moments she sensed a presence next to her, then heard, ‘Excuse me, are you all right?’
The shock made her lift her head. It was the woman who had also been watching. Susannah looked directly at her.
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ the woman said, backing off half a step. ‘I . . . I thought you were crying.’
‘“Dee Glucklisher”,’ Susannah said with a grin, still trying to contain her fit of giggles. ‘But . . . “Dee Glucklisher”. Can you believe that?’
‘I . . . umm . . .’ The woman didn’t say whether she did or not, but managed to stammer out the words, ‘What does that mean?’
‘Not much to you, perhaps,’ Susannah said, a warm smile replacing her grin. ‘But it means the world to me.’
Then Susannah’s face lit up and she looked, glassy-eyed, up to the woman. She mumbled the name and regiment of the soldier a few times, then quickly took a pen and notebook from her handbag and scribbled it down.
The young woman slowly withdrew and sat back down next to the man on the opposite side of the room, keeping one nervous eye on Susannah until she got up and headed for the exit, leaving Bergen-Belsen for ever.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
It was the next day. It had been arranged.
Susannah had asked Dennis to tell his father as little as possible about her, that he should describe her only as ‘an old friend from the war’ who wanted to meet up again, and be careful not to let on she was a woman. Dennis had done this, but at first his father didn’t want to go. It took a lot of persuasion, but eventually Dennis told him this old friend was only in the country for one day and desperately wanted to see him, to tell him something important. Only then did he accept the invitation.
Dennis relayed all of this to Susannah and said he would drop his father off at the hotel and tell him which room to go to.
And so Susannah was waiting.
And worrying.
Teddy’s possible reaction on seeing her after all this time was something she hadn’t thought through when she’d first had the idea of meeting up. If Dennis had told him ‘Dee’ wanted to see him God only knows what it would have done to him. But, of course, at some stage or other – very soon, in fact – he was going to find out that it was the woman he knew as ‘Dee’.
And waiting for him was like waiting to go on a first date.
She tidied her hotel room – which took all of ninety seconds – then tried to settle her nerves by watching TV.
But the knock on the door came early.
She opened it and immediately covered her mouth in shock before regaining some composure. If he’d looked vaguely familiar in the video presentation there was no mistaking him in the flesh. This was her Teddy, her saviour, wearing a neat tie and a smart black blazer with his medals proudly pinned to the chest. Then, just after she’d put on her very best smile and while she was preparing to say how thrilled she was that he’d accepted her invitation, he spoke.
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’ve got the wrong room.’
That voice again. Just those few words. It hadn’t come over quite so clearly in the video presentation, but hearing it live and first hand – even through her poor old ears – was as beautiful as Frank Sinatra performing solo just for her.
‘No, you haven’t,’ she said.
‘No, really. My son met an old army chum yesterday and arranged for us to meet here.’
An old chum? She tried to keep her laughter inside but it spilled over the edges.
‘You haven’t got the wrong room at all, Teddy,’ she said. ‘Please come in.’ She stood aside and waved him to come past.
He looked right and left, straightened his tie and took the opportunity to give his neck a twitch, then stepped forward with a ‘Righto’ and a puzzled frown.
Once inside the hotel room he became even more fidgety, stepping from foot to foot. ‘But I . . . I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘Do I know you?’
Susannah closed the door and opened her arms wide to display herself. ‘Look at me. Who do you see?’
‘My eyes aren’t too good.’
‘I know the feeling. But please, carry on looking.’
He did, but then shrugged.
‘Where were you in April 1945?’ she said.
‘What? But I was . . . I don’t get it.’
‘My name’s Susannah.’
‘Susannah?’ He shook his head.
‘You know me better as Dee Glucklisher.’
He squeezed his eyes to slits as he peered at her face, then they almost blew out of their sockets as his puzzled expression turned to one of shock. He swallowed like someone trying to force down a hard chunk of food. ‘Oh, no,’ he muttered. ‘It can’t be.’
Susannah nodded encouragement just the once.
‘Dee?’ Teddy said, pressing both hands to his chest. ‘Oh . . . my . . . giddy aunt.’ He bent down to look directly at her face again, then his jittery hands fell onto a nearby armchair and he collapsed onto it.
‘Teddy, are you all right?’
He didn’t acknowledge the question, and kept his eyes shut.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm you. I just . . . had to see you.’ She rested a hand on his shoulder and shook it ever so slightly. Then he opened his eyes and looked up at her.
‘I have some food laid on for us too. And not just sugar this time. You’ll find the room service here a lot better than the last place we met.’
Teddy didn’t laugh, but a stern expression cast itself on his face. He swallowed with difficulty once more.
‘I’m sorry,’ Susannah said.
‘Don’t apologize. I wish I could laugh it off too.’
‘We have so much to talk about, Teddy. And I won’t hurt you, so why not wash that fear off your face?’
Teddy sniffed and took a few deep breaths, then stood up. He nodded, and before Susannah had a chance to say she was just joking he tottered towards the bathroom.
He returned with a face that did indeed have some of the shock washed off, by which time room service had brought up a trolley of food and the small desk had been commandeered for dining purposes. They dragged the two armchairs to the desk, and over the next hour of buffet food they talked some more.
Susannah told Teddy about finding and marrying Archie Morgan, about having David and Judy, and about her peppered career as a secretary which never really worked out because she suffered so much from mood swings in those days. And he told her about meeting and marrying Patricia, about their son who was working in the Middle East, their daughter who was a teacher in Bristol, their youngest son who he now lived with, and of his lifetime ‘on the boards’ as he called it, drafting for an engineering company. He stammered through the description of the twelve blissful years of retirement – half of which was sp
ent at various sunny resorts around Europe – and almost broke down as he described his wife’s struggle with the heart complaint that eventually took her away from him.
Susannah talked openly and listened attentively, and by the time they’d had their fill she felt like Teddy was an old friend. He was every bit as kind, honest and down to earth as she’d hoped.
There was a lull in the conversation, and Susannah took the opportunity to reach across and open a drawer. ‘I have something for you,’ she said, pulling out a small bag and handing it to him.
‘Harrods?’ he said with a chuckle. ‘Never had anything from there before.’ Then he pulled out a pair of green woollen socks and all humour dropped from his face. ‘Well, I’ll be . . .’
‘I thought I owed you a pair,’ Susannah said. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t got the ones you gave me.’
And for a few seconds there was silence as Teddy caressed the soft material between thumb and forefinger.
‘You want to know something funny?’ Susannah said. ‘I kept the pair you gave me for about fifteen years.’
‘Really?’ he said, his forehead doing a passable impression of a ploughed field.
‘I don’t know why I kept them for so long. I spent those years trying to forget what happened to me, but somehow I found those socks as comforting as the day you gave them to me. But when David was small and Judy was a baby we had to have a major spring clear-out, and somewhere along the way we lost them.’ She paused and then said, ‘The socks, I mean. Not David and Judy.’
Then Teddy looked up.
He wasn’t laughing.
He gulped and gasped and then a couple of tears dripped onto the socks in his lap.
Susannah pulled her chair closer to him and whispered, ‘What is it? I’m sorry . . . What did I say?’
Teddy sniffed and checked his watch. ‘I need to think about going soon.’
‘Oh,’ Susannah said in a disappointed tone.
‘Dennis is picking me up.’
Susannah bowed her head. ‘Of course.’
Teddy pulled a handkerchief out and blew his nose.
‘If you’re sure you’re all right, Teddy.’
‘I’ll be fine in a bit.’
‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’
He took a deep, calming breath and exhaled slowly. ‘I’ll be fine.’
Susannah looked at his face and tried to catch his red, rheumy eye, but he resisted that. ‘Could you do me another favour before you leave?’ she said.
‘What?’
‘Could we . . . just . . . stand for a few minutes and hold each other?’
Teddy gave her a suspicious sideways stare.
‘Please,’ she said. ‘Just for me.’
Teddy thought for a second, then nodded uncertainly a few times.
They both stood up and faced each other. They twitched and fumbled for a few seconds like a pair of teenagers, but after a few false starts the side of Susannah’s face was resting against Teddy’s shoulder.
‘I never really thought about it,’ Susannah said. ‘But I guess you suffered just as much as me.’
‘Nonsense,’ Teddy said, and Susannah could feel his head shaking.
‘Your son says you get flashbacks and bad dreams.’
‘They don’t exactly upset me,’ Teddy said. ‘It’s not like I cry out or anything, but in my head I’m transported back in time, like I’m there again and I feel I can’t escape. It gets me agitated. And it’s stopped me sleeping once or twice, but it’s no worse than that.’
‘Now I know you’re lying.’
‘What?’
Susannah pulled her body away a little and looked up at him. She lifted a hand to stroke the few strands of white hair remaining on his head. ‘I’m sorry, Teddy. That was too blunt. But you can’t kid a kidder.’ She wrapped her arms back around his torso and squeezed tightly. ‘I know what you’re talking about, remember. I’m not some counsellor or psycho-quack who’s just read every goddam book under the sun about it. I know what it’s like when your mind keeps taking you back to that horrible place and you can’t control it; it’s like all your worst childhood nightmares wrapped into one big dirty heap. It’s the nastiest, scariest monster coming out of the blackest lagoon imaginable, and it’s coming to get you. You feel the fear of a child, and yet you feel the shame of an adult frightened of something other people don’t understand and you’re not sure you do either. So you play it down, pretend it’s not quite as bad as all that. And when people say you should put it all behind you and move on in life, you agree with them, because that makes perfect sense . . . and . . . and . . .’
And there she stopped, as she felt the whole of Teddy’s body quivering and his chest wheezing. He was sobbing like a baby, and she did the only thing she could: she stayed and held him as tightly as he was holding her. She knew that in spite of the infirmity of her age and her condition, she would stay and hold him for as long as it took for his sadness to fly away.
They stood together in the middle of the hotel room, neither saying another word, until Teddy’s crying subsided.
He gradually let go.
They sat down again, but didn’t speak for some time.
‘Better?’ Susannah said softly.
Teddy nodded, and a forced smile – but a smile nonetheless – appeared on his face.
‘I’ve noticed something,’ Teddy said. ‘You . . . you make lots of jokes about it.’
‘And?’
‘But . . . how can you do that?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. It helps me to cope, I guess. And believe me, my friend, I’ve tried absolutely everything else.’
‘And does it make the nightmares go away?’
Susannah sighed and gave her head a disconsolate shake. ‘We both know you can’t undo things like that. But it makes me feel better.’
‘Anyway, thank you,’ Teddy said. ‘It’s been . . .’
‘Interesting?’
‘Good, really good.’
Teddy looked at his watch again, and Susannah clasped her hand over his wrist, covering the watch.
‘Teddy,’ she said. ‘Please stay.’
‘What?’
‘I . . . I want you to stay with me tonight.’
Teddy shook his head vigorously. ‘Oh, no. I’ve got Dennis coming to pick me up and—’
‘Hear me out. Just listen, please.’ She turned away from him and looked down at the floor. ‘I haven’t got much time left.’
‘You mean, in the country?’
‘Who’s joking now?’
‘I’m sorry. Dennis told me you were quite ill. I wasn’t sure . . .’
‘Well, I am sure. I can feel the sickness in my bones and I know I won’t be here in a few months. So please, grant a dying old woman a last request. Call Dennis and tell him not to pick you up. Stay with me tonight, Teddy.’
‘But . . .’ Teddy glanced to the bed.
‘Oh, I don’t mean that.’ Susannah’s eyes searched the ceiling for a moment. ‘I’m too old for that.’
Teddy let out a sigh of relief. ‘Thank God. I think even trying it would kill me.’
For a few seconds Susannah creased up in laughter, and Teddy soon followed.
‘I just want you to sleep with me,’ Susannah said. ‘I want to wake up with your arms around me. I want to feel fifteen again – just once before I die.’
‘It’s not often I get offers like that,’ Teddy said. ‘But are you sure you want to? I mean, you don’t really know me that well.’
‘Oh, Teddy. I know the sort of man you are.’
He let out a short laugh, then his jaw bobbed up and down, searching for words.
‘Ah, come on. It’s not like I don’t trust you. How can I not trust you?’
Teddy thought for a moment, then looked at his watch, fidgeted with his hands, and thought for another moment.
‘I’ll do you a deal,’ Susannah said. ‘I promise not to get upset if you think of me as your Patricia, so long as I can think of you as m
y Archie.’
‘Well . . .’
‘One last night in the arms of a woman, Teddy. Whaddya say? If you could ask Patricia do you really, really think she’d mind?’
‘She was a very understanding woman, was my Patricia.’
‘I know exactly what you mean.’
Teddy leaned back and ran his hands up and down the arms of the armchair. ‘It was difficult . . . I mean, I was difficult. She was strong for both of us – mentally strong. And I tried – God I tried – but I was never a perfect husband. I was too . . .’
As he paused for breath Susannah put a finger to his lips. ‘Oh, Teddy, we have such a lot in common. So what do you say to a night of talking about our loves, our lives and our demons?’
He nodded.
‘So go call your son,’ she said. ‘Tell him you’re staying with me, or tell him you’ve rented another room. Do whatever you need to, but come back here, and let’s go to bed and spend the night talking, and fall asleep in one another’s arms.’
‘You know,’ Teddy said, with the first genuine smile Susannah had seen on his face, ‘I think I might do that.’
PART SIX
Settling Dust
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
David and Judy glanced at each other across the bed, then both turned to their mother. Susannah’s voice had begun to weaken some time ago – when she’d started speaking about Teddy. Also Judy noticed her eyes by now had half closed, and her breathing was starting to get laboured.
‘So what happened after that?’ David asked, leaning forward.
‘Can’t you see she’s tired?’ Judy said.
‘I’m sorry. I just wanted to know whether she—’
‘Hey,’ Susannah said, her voice suddenly regaining its full strength. ‘Haven’t I told you two schmucks off before for talking about me as if I’m . . . ?’ Then her words trailed off as her chest sank a little deeper. ‘Jeez,’ she muttered. ‘All that talking sure has taken it out of me.’
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