Jan

by Peter Haden

  ‘Thank you so much,’ Günther told his father. ‘I’m grateful, but how on earth did you manage it so quickly?’

  ‘Herr Dreher came out to the farm several times during the war, particularly towards the end,’ his father replied. Things were really expensive by then and he was desperate to buy food that just wasn’t available in the towns and cities. I helped him out as best I could. He gave me his card – said if ever he could return the favour, he would. He took my word for it this morning that your last school said you were pretty bright. So, all you have to do now is prove it!

  ‘By the way,’ Dieter continued, ‘it’s too far for you to travel each day. You’ll need to lodge locally. Herr Dreher’s secretary gave me a list of people who offer accommodation’ – he handed over several typed pages – ‘so you had better come back for a day or two and look for somewhere to stay, before you begin your studies in January.’

  Not wanting to add to the expense any more than necessary, Günther took a single room at the top of a three storey house owned by the widow Hesler. She lived on the outskirts of the city, not too far from where he would work and study and just off the main road to Berlin. She took in lodgers and commercial travellers to make ends meet. Frau Hesler made clear the rules – he would have a key, but she would expect him to be home by eleven in the evening. There would be no entertaining of guests, and certainly no “ladies” – the way she stressed the word made her meaning even clearer – allowed in his room. She would provide breakfast and an evening meal, but if he was to be out for any reason she expected to be warned in good time. He would take lunch at his own expense at the factory and she understood that he would be going home most weekends. Payment would be for each term, in advance!

  Frau Hesler was a rather well-built but not unattractive lady, prematurely grey, in her mid to late thirties. She had lost her husband in the war. But when Günther mentioned that he had served with the Stosstruppen he sensed that she warmed considerably. When he asked if it would be all right if he did not go home for the first weekend she agreed readily enough. ‘You can come downstairs for a proper lunch on Sunday,’ she told him quite kindly. ‘I’ll make us a roast. I haven’t done that since my Ernst died.’

  He worked all day Saturday, with just a sandwich at midday, trying to get ahead by looking at textbooks and thinking about his first assignment. But he fancied a small treat for the evening. He told Frau Hesler that he would not be in for dinner and asked her advice on where he could eat well but not too expensively. He would only want a main course and perhaps a glass of wine, he told her.

  She recommended a restaurant in the local shopping district a few streets away. It offered traditional German cooking, but also – unusually – Italian food, an entirely new experience for Günther but popular with both residents of the port city and visitors alike. He ordered spaghetti with a meat and tomato sauce, something he had never tasted before. Not only was it absolutely delicious, with garlic and a strange herb, but the portion was huge and it was also cheap. All the waiters except one were men. But unusually, he was served by a young woman, who told him that the herb was oregano, not much used in German cuisine. She was strikingly beautiful. Quite tall and modestly dressed in a long black skirt, white apron and a high-necked blouse, this could not detract from an obviously athletic toned figure, high cheekbones, long, wavy chestnut hair and the greenest eyes he had ever seen. Günther was smitten.

  Careful not to take advantage of his agreement with Frau Hesler, the following week Günther announced that he would be going home on Saturday morning, returning first thing Monday, but he would be out on Friday evening. He was unlucky. To his intense disappointment his was not one of her tables. But whenever he thought he could get away with it unobserved, he studied her.

  Not wanting to be too obvious, and in any case Günther was reluctant to eat out more than once a week, he visited Giulio’s every Friday for the next three weeks. Only once was she his waitress, when he managed no more than a few pleasantries, but finally his luck held. She was acting as the head waiter, showing customers to their table and generally helping with coats and hats on the way out.

  She held his Loden for him, struggling with the heavy, dark green hunting coat. ‘You make me feel guilty,’ he told her. ‘Where’s Joseph tonight?’

  ‘He’s not too well,’ she replied as he buttoned up against the February chill. ‘I hope you enjoyed your meal,’ she added with a smile. ‘You’re becoming quite a regular.’

  Günther glanced over his shoulder. There was no one else about to leave. ‘Look,’ he began nervously, ‘I would very much like to speak with you. Please don’t think me too forward, but could we do that, just for a few minutes, perhaps after you have finished here?’ It had come out as something of a nervous stutter. He felt rather foolish.

  But to his relief she smiled. ‘I finish here at ten, when we close,’ she told him. ‘If you don’t mind waiting, you may walk me to the tram stop.’

  ‘I’ll be outside,’ he said instantly, realising straight away that he must have sounded like an over-eager schoolboy.

  ‘Give me back your coat,’ she suggested, ‘then return to your table. I’ll arrange for you to have a cup of coffee – it will be on the house.’

  Other people were curious, several were looking at him now. His face reddened. This was worse than anything that had happened in the war. But he did as he was told. She spoke to his waiter, who returned a few minutes later with a coffee and a small glass of yellow liqueur. It tasted of herbs. A few minutes after ten, she put on her own overcoat and waited for him by the door, his coat over her arm. This time he put it on himself.

  ‘Did you enjoy your nightcap?’ she asked as they walked away from the restaurant.

  He was beginning to think she was a little more sophisticated he had thought. ‘What was it?’ he asked. ‘But it was good,’ he added quickly. He did not want her to think him ungrateful.

  ‘The Italians call it Liquore Strega,’ she replied. ‘We only have it because we serve Italian food,’ she added, letting him down gently.

  Günther realised that this was going nowhere and they would probably be at the tram stop any time soon. He stopped and turned to face her. She also stopped and turned. He took her gloved left hand in his right.

  ‘Look,’ he said with more confidence than he was feeling, ‘I would very much like us to be friends. Would it be permitted for me to be your escort one evening… or perhaps lunch, if you would rather?’ he added quickly.

  ‘It might be possible,’ she replied. ‘But I don’t even know your name!’

  ‘Oh dear,’ he said straight away, ‘I don’t think I’m doing this very well. I’m not much good with girls – young ladies,’ he corrected hastily. ‘There weren’t any in the war… I’m Günther, Günther Raschdorf, and I’m studying engineering.’

  She had guessed that he was a student of some sort. But he seemed a little older and more mature than the ones she had met previously. If he had been in the war, that explained it.

  ‘You can call me Hannah,’ she informed him, and left it at that.

  ‘And could we… meet and be friends, I mean?’ he added quickly.

  ‘That would not be entirely up to me,’ she told him. ‘You would have to speak with my father.’ In truth, she could probably have said ‘yes’ and got away with it, but she wanted to know how genuine he was.

  ‘How do I do that?’ he queried.

  ‘You come to the house,’ she replied, ‘and just ask him. Will you be coming to the restaurant again, next week?’

  He would. ‘Then I’ll give you an envelope,’ she responded. Inside will be my address. Perhaps you might like to come for Kaffee und Kuchen the following Sunday afternoon?’ Before he could reply they had arrived at her tram stop and it was in sight, already slowing, so she boarded and gave a half wave from the window. It was only after she had gone that he realised she had dire
cted him right round the block rather than directly from the restaurant, obviously so that they could talk. If he had been a youngster he might have skipped back to his room.

  He ate at the restaurant on Thursday evening the following week. For once he was lucky, and Hannah waited on his table. But she was busy, and they exchanged only a few words. This time he tried a spaghetti with a clam-based sauce – billed as Spaghetti alle Vongole. Again, it was delicious and not expensive. But when – with a lovely smile – she removed his plate, there was a small envelope underneath containing a card. On it she had simply written ‘4 p.m., Hannah, 7 Gutenbergallee – take the same tram and the driver will announce the stop.’

  He thought for a while about what to wear. She was working as a waitress, so the last thing he wanted to do was embarrass her family by being overdressed. But he wanted to impress Hannah by looking his best. In the end, he settled for a good daytime but weekend suit of green, thorn-proof cloth.

  They were almost at the end of the line and he was beginning to be a bit concerned until the driver intoned ‘Gutenbergallee’ to his passengers.

  As the Allee suggested, it was a broad, tree-line road also off the way to Berlin but right on the outskirts of the city. It was not what he had expected. For a start, it was clearly a well-to-do district with substantial three storey houses each set back from the road and well separated from adjacent properties. He found number seven, but there was no brass name-plate on the substantial, brick, double gate pillars. There was a separate pedestrian entrance to one side, which was not locked. He began to wonder whether she worked there as a member of the domestic staff, as well as working evenings in the restaurant. He decided to play safe and rang the bell to the servants’ and tradesman’s entrance round to one side. A maid in black uniform and white apron opened the door.

  ‘Herr Raschdorf?’ she enquired, bobbing a tiny curtsy.

  ‘Ja,’ he replied, removing his hat. ‘To see Hannah, if you please.’

  He would probably be asked to wait whilst she was summoned. Perhaps her father also worked here as a butler or something.

  ‘Miss Hannah,’ she said, emphasising the first word, ‘thought you might announce yourself here. But she would prefer that you did not enter via the kitchen. If sir would like to go to the front door, I shall be waiting to admit you.’

  ‘Er… yes,’ he stammered, feeling rather foolish. By the time he got there she had beaten him to it. The door was open and she bobbed another curtsy.

  ‘Please follow me, sir,’ she invited. He was shown to a small drawing room expensively and tastefully furnished. Hannah rose from a silk covered chaise longue and held out a gloved hand. Automatically, as he had been taught, he clicked his heels and brushed it with his lips.

  ‘I’m so glad you could come,’ she said with a twinkle in her eyes. ‘Forgive me, but I thought you might knock on the wrong door. I’m afraid Heidi was lying in wait for you.’

  ‘I’m not sure I understand,’ he said. It came out rather more firmly than he would have wished, but in truth his pride was feeling just that little bit dented.

  She didn’t explain. Instead, she took his hand in hers and pulled him gently towards the door. ‘Come and meet Father,’ she said simply.

  Hannah knocked on a set of huge oak double doors. ‘Bitte komm, Liebling,’ echoed a heavy male voice. Hannah led him into a large study, shelved and lined with books so that it was also a library. Her father was seated on a captain’s chair behind a partner’s desk. Courteously, he rose and walked round to offer his hand. He was wearing plain dark grey trousers and a fine black velvet smoking jacket.

  ‘You are Herr Raschdorf,’ he said pleasantly. ‘My Hannah has told me of you.’

  The use of the affectionate possessive was not lost on Günther. ‘Good afternoon, Sir,’ he managed politely. Another click and bow.

  Armchairs and a sofa confronted a warm log fire. Hannah’s father waved an arm. ‘Please be seated,’ he suggested genially. ‘Thank you for coming to see me. I know you were invited for coffee and cake, so that’s what you must have. But I’m not so fond of it myself. Perhaps afterwards, you’ll join me in a glass?’ He turned to his daughter. ‘Hannah, would you be so kind?’

  ‘Of course, Vati,’ she replied, smiling at Günther as she swished her long skirts and walked out of the room.

  There was a bell pull on the wall. She could equally well have used it. Günther knew that this had been pre-arranged.

  ‘So,’ the older man began, ‘I understand that you wish to become acquainted with my daughter?’

  ‘Yes, Sir.’ Günther had recovered somewhat by now. He saw no point in being anything other than straightforward. Her father could either agree or ask him to leave.

  ‘You will forgive me for wanting to meet you and being protective,’ came the reply, ‘but since my wife died, Hannah is all I have. I would not want her to be hurt in any way.’

  ‘Sir, Hannah and I don’t really know each other,’ said Günther simply, ‘but I hope I would never do that. You don’t need me to tell you,’ he went on, ‘that she is both an unusual and a lovely young lady. I know I like her, very much, and I hope she will come to like me. That’s probably all I should say, for the present.’

  The youngster wasn’t afraid to stand his corner, thought the older man. ‘Hannah said you were in the army?’ he asked. ‘What did you do?’

  ‘Stosstruppen,’ Günther replied simply. ‘But I was only old enough to join at the last minute – as a private soldier.’

  ‘And how old are you now?’ came the instant response.

  ‘I shall be nineteen this coming April, Sir,’ Günther replied without thinking. Then he realised that he had fallen into a trap.

  ‘So, you were underage when you enlisted,’ came the instant summation. Günther realised that Hannah’s father had a mind like a razor. He wondered whether he had ever been a lawyer. Günther decided to let it rest – not to say anything.

  ‘And what do you do now?’ the older man asked. Günther told him in as few sentences as possible.

  ‘And where do your people farm?’ came the next question. But Günther recognised that this was no more than gentle probing from a kindly father concerned only for his daughter.

  ‘East of here, Sir,’ he replied, ‘over towards the border.’ The last thing he wanted was to come across as boastful, but that said he thought it important that he defended his family. Their situation had to be a concern for Hannah’s father, who was only looking after his daughter’s best interests. ‘We farm our own hectares, but some of the land is let to tenants.’

  Those few words said it all. ‘So, what do you propose with my daughter, young man?’ he asked kindly.

  ‘Would you allow me to take Hannah out for dinner… or lunch, Sir, if you would rather?’ he added quickly.

  ‘Either,’ came the unexpected response. ‘I’m not even going to lay down any stipulations. You seem to me to be the sort of young man who will look after her and bring her home at a respectable hour. And she knows what that is as well as you do,’ he added with a smile.

  ‘But there is one thing you must be aware of,’ he went on, ‘Hannah has not told you her surname. It is, as is mine: Rosenthal. We consider ourselves good Germans. But we are also of the Jewish faith.’

  He stood and tugged at the tasselled bell-pull on the wall. ‘I am not going to take coffee and cake with you, Herr Raschdorf, but Hannah will return in a few seconds and then, if you wish, refreshments will be served. Afterwards, if you are still here, please join me for something stronger in the drawing room. But if not, I would simply like to wish you well. It can’t have been easy, but thank you for paying me the courtesy of this visit.’

  With that, and without looking back, he left the room. A few seconds later Hannah returned. ‘Would you like to stay?’ she asked simply.

  Günther smiled wildly at her. He was ecstat
ic. ‘Of course, I would,’ he told her, ‘and your papa has invited me for a drink afterwards. He said I could take you for dinner… if of course you would do me the honour of accepting?’ he added mischievously.

  Chapter 6

  They chatted easily over Kaffee und Kuchen. She was curious to know what he had done during the war. He told her why he had enlisted in the first place. Hannah found it rather endearing that it was as much the love of his horse as his wish to fight for the Fatherland that had moved him to become a soldier.

  Also, he discovered, she had a keen interest in how the Weimar Republic was looking after its war veterans, not to mention the hundreds of thousands of families who had lost their breadwinner in the service of their country. Uppermost in Günther’s mind, however, was how a waitress in a modest restaurant came to be acting as the lady of what was clearly a wealthy household. But something told him that it would be impolite to ask personal questions at this early stage in their acquaintance. As if to forestall the issue, Hannah rose to her feet and suggested that it might be polite to join Father in the drawing room, because he would welcome their company.

  Over a glass of fine Armagnac, it was settled that he would take Hannah out on Wednesday evening – that, she told him, was her day off. But as he explained, taking his leave late on Sunday afternoon, the only establishment that he had ever been to in Stettin was Giulio’s, and he presumed that she would not wish to eat at the same restaurant where she worked.