Tears of Autumn, The

by Wiltshire, David

  ‘Biff?’ Konrad pressed. ‘They do short selections of Wagner – and other pieces, of course.’

  Wagner! But he saw both girls looking imploringly at him.

  ‘Well, I’ll give anything a try once.’

  ‘Wonderful.’ Anna clapped her hands in delight.

  Konrad breathed a sigh of relief. ‘You will love it, I promise. And we are very lucky. They had cancellations due to Mussolini’s visit. Mussolini’s party is coming here instead.’

  Anna took up her cigarette holder. Her voice was sarcastic. ‘Well, there you have it: good can come out of anything. What time shall we set off?’

  ‘We should go early, before the streets get crowded; they might close some of them,’ said Konrad.

  Anna inserted one of her cigarettes into the holder.

  ‘Have you got a car for us?’

  Konrad looked exasperated. ‘Of course, my dear. I did everything. The concierge is laying on the car and driver, from an agency they use.’

  ‘I’ve got it.’ Rosemary’s eyes sparkled. ‘Villa Cimbrone is where Greta Garbo sought refuge with that famous conductor earlier this year. They were supposed to be having an affair.’

  Anna accepted a light from a passing waiter, then lifted the holder from her lips.

  ‘Leopold Stokowski.’

  ‘That’s him.’ Rosemary was delighted. ‘Oh, Konrad, it sounds terrific.’

  ‘Biff knew that he’d just have to sit through the concert, there was no way that Rosemary could be put off now.

  ‘We’re all agreed then.’ Konrad looked around. ‘The dinner in the Cimbrone is exceptional. All to do with the music festival.’

  To celebrate they drank another bottle of champagne, then went out to the restaurant on the terrace.

  A small orchestra was playing on a platform against the hotel wall. Opposite was the balustrade and beyond the unseen ocean. A brightly lit liner was anchored off shore, and an Italian destroyer, lit overall.

  They took their seats. Both Biff and Konrad had noticed the looks their wives had received as they moved amongst the tables.

  The waiters fussed around them, placing their napkins on their laps and giving out the menus. Spring water from bottles was poured into tumblers containing ice and a slice of lime.

  They took some time before they were ready for the head waiter, who stood with pencil at the ready.

  As soon as their selections were known the sommelier moved in with the wine list. After some discussion they settled for two bottles of white and a red, all from local vineyards. The sommelier, wearing his chain and badge of office, assured them they were choosing well. ‘You will not be disappointed.’

  They were not.

  The band was playing ‘Smoke Gets In Your Eyes’. It was the perfect end, to a perfect day.

  Chapter Seven

  Biff suddenly realized that the high sheriff had sat down with everybody clapping around him. He joined in, not having heard a word for the past ten minutes.

  The times when he drifted off into his own little world of the past were getting more frequent these days – and longer. Still, it was a world he preferred.

  People looked out for each other then, especially when the war came. But since the sixties and the rise of the right to self-fulfilment, with no sense of an obligation to society: in short, duty; since the arrival of drugs, binge drinking, political correctness and compensation; of graffiti and litter and a lawlessness on the streets that had not been seen since the nineteenth century … he took a deep breath, tried to stop himself. His doctor had told him not to get so riled up.

  But it was difficult. He loved England – still did, but if he was a young man now, would he stay?

  And would he and this generation fight for it, as they had in the past?

  Was it worth the sacrifice so many had made?

  ‘Come on. Let’s get you home.’

  It was his daughter, her hair the colour of her mother’s when he’d first met her.

  She helped him down to the street. The car was only a few feet away, parked in what he called a ‘spasy’ spot, the term he and his wife had coined when she had first got her set of disabled badges, with his not long after.

  Several people greeted him, and one man insisted on helping him into the front seat, even though he could manage that himself.

  When he was settled his daughter dropped into the driving seat, strapped herself in straight away, and fired up the engine.

  ‘I’m sorry I’ve got to rush you, Dad, but the kids are home at four and Bill is due back early. We’re going to a stupid rotary celebrity night.’

  He murmured: ‘Oh, I’m ready for a little snooze, don’t you worry.’

  It was true, but the fact that the kids were ‘home at four’ made him grin inwardly.

  The elder boy was nearly eighteen, and the younger one sixteen: great hulking lads who seemed to be perpetually eating. The elder one was due to go to Cambridge in the autumn, to read German and politics, and the younger one was doing Mandarin Chinese and Russian with a special tutor. He grunted, the noise lost as the car engine revved up. It seemed languages were in the genes, his daughter had left University College London with a degree in Italian.

  He was living now in a nice little bungalow in the village where once they’d had a large house and a couple of acres.

  It was a good village. They all knew him. He had resisted all efforts to get him moved to sheltered accommodation in the town, but had settled for a twice-daily visit by a nurse, and a lady who cooked him his one good meal a day. She hadn’t been required today.

  Once inside he tried to usher his daughter out.

  ‘Go on dear, I’m fine now. Thank you for a lovely day.’

  She fussed a little, getting his jacket and shoes off, finding his favourite cardigan and slippers and settling him into his chair. She turned on the television.

  He kissed her once again, said no, he didn’t need anything – no tea thank you, and then, with a last kiss on the top of his head, he was alone.

  The first thing he did was lift the remote, and point it at the goggle-box.

  Blessed silence descended as he killed the bloody quiz presenter in mid inane sentence.

  He shut his eyes as tiredness ached in his bones. But it had been a wonderful day.

  The wine flowed, the band played, and they were laughing the night away.

  All of a sudden there was a booming explosion that made the table contents jingle. One or two girls cried out in fright, but suddenly the night sky was lit up as a firework burst into a hundred little flares of intense blue. It marked the start of the display. A lot of people left their tables and flocked to the balustrade, but they sat where they were, giving a cheer every time a rocket exploded in a pyrotechnic display of intense colour.

  ‘Do they do this every week?’ asked Rosemary.

  Konrad shook his head. ‘I expect it’s in honour of Il Duce’s visit.’

  He laughed. ‘Do you think he’s in that destroyer? He couldn’t possibly see them from Capri?’ He grinned and added ‘Probably visiting Clara on board.’

  Anna set her glass down.

  ‘Every time there is a bang, he’s probably making her very happy.’

  Konrad frowned, but Anna lolled back in her chair and stuck out the tip of her tongue.

  ‘He’s an animal.’

  She said it quite loudly.

  Konrad sat up and looked around.

  ‘Anna – please.’

  She gave a throaty chuckle that Biff found very attractive.

  ‘Oh, you big brave sailor.’

  But Konrad wasn’t playing along. He stayed quiet, shaking his head and saying to Biff, ‘She doesn’t appreciate the delicacy of the position.’

  Anna snorted. ‘It was you who brought up the subject.’

  ‘My dear Anna, I know, but can you not keep your voice down?’ he hissed.

  But the firework display was commanding everyone’s attention.

  Rosemary decided
to help by changing the subject – to one she wanted to know whether Anna had heard of or had any views or interest in.

  ‘What do you think about our King – Edward the Eighth – abdicating for love?’

  ‘Ah. You mean the Prince of Wales and Mrs Simpson?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Anna held her glass out for more champagne as the waiter came around amid the continuing pyrotechnics.

  ‘Well, I think he should have been allowed to marry her as he wanted, but I admire him for putting love before everything. It is the best thing that can happen to men and women.’

  Konrad was nodding, but said: ‘I agree with the first part, but he should not have neglected his duty to his country. Don’t you think, Biff? Where would we all be if we did not do our duty? It makes nations strong.’

  If truth be told Biff had never been able to make his mind up about the now Duke of Windsor. But before he could reply Rosemary said: ‘I agree. He should have put the country first.’

  Somehow, without thinking, Biff said: ‘Life isn’t that simple, though, is it? He was – is – passionately in love. It’s the strongest force in nature.’

  ‘Thank you, Biff.’

  He suddenly realized he was siding with Anna, against Konrad and Rosemary.

  Rosemary made a face.

  ‘Oooh – you old romantic you. I’d never have thought it.’

  Biff detected a note of irritation.

  The country had been bitterly divided over the constitutional crisis and subsequent abdication, and Rosemary had obviously been in the camp that backed the cabinet decision rejecting the King’s proposal of a morganatic marriage. Which he thought was strange, given her usual indifference towards the strictures of society.

  Edward VIII had been very popular with the working classes, largely because of his war record and his concern for the poor and long-term unemployed.

  Konrad said: ‘But despite everything we liked him very much in Germany. His visit last year was a great success. It is a pity you were not able to keep him as King.’

  There had been much talk that the Windsors were sympathetic to the Nazi Government of Herr Hitler. It occurred to Biff to wonder: if the abdication had not taken place, would the relations between the two countries be better?

  It prompted him to say: ‘There is a great fear of war again in England. The Anschluss in March was worrying, and now you’ve gone into the Sudetenland. You can see why we’re worried, can’t you, Konrad?’

  Konrad nodded.

  ‘Yes, I understand, but not with Great Britain. The Führer is a great admirer of the British Empire. Like me, he is an Anglophile to his bone marrow – believe me.’

  He held his arms out in supplication, glass in one hand.

  ‘Biff, I ask you, what advantage could be there in fighting with you?’

  He answered his own question. ‘None. We seek only to carve out a fair and honourable place for ourselves in Europe. All the Führer’s actions have been only to unite the German-speaking peoples – that’s all.’

  Biff shrugged.

  ‘I sincerely hope you are right. Nobody in their right mind wants fourteen-to-eighteen again, surely? It was supposed to end all wars.’

  Konrad nodded. ‘Agreed. But since then my countrymen have been through abject misery; inflation was so bad that people were taking home their pay in wheelbarrows – if they had a job at all. Some starved to death. Terrible, terrible times.’ He shook his head. ‘The Führer has ended all that, and the rise of communism. Surely you can see that if the British people had gone through the same experience, they too would honour the man who transformed their fortunes, making them proud to be British again?’

  Bill conceded the point with a nod, but didn’t say anything.

  The girls, who had been deep in conversation about ‘Wallis’, and ‘David’, suddenly realized that their men had gone off on another, more serious tack.

  Frowning, Anna said: ‘Not now, Konrad, for heaven’s sake. You boys should not talk politics.’

  Konrad protested ‘We’re talking history.’

  Anxious to change the subject himself, Biff agreed.

  ‘Yes, Anna, it’s all water under the bridge. It’s the future that matters. We must all hope we have learnt from our mistakes.’

  ‘You two are so alike.’ Rosemary drained her glass. ‘It’s unthinkable that you would one day be trying to kill each other.’

  This had a very sobering effect.

  They all went quiet, until eventually Konrad slammed his hand on the table. ‘Let’s have some more champagne. Waiter….’

  He held up his arm and waved the empty bottle. ‘Another one if you please.’

  Despite all the problems with Germany, Biff liked Konrad as an individual very much. In other circumstances they could well have become big chums.

  There was a lot of truth in what he had said. Biff realized he would have felt the same if Britain had been in such a mess, whether or not it had brought it upon itself, and somebody had raised it back to its former glory.

  In fact, he was half-inclined to the notion that Britain was drifting, with huge social problems, and needed somebody like Herr Hitler, or even Il Duce, to take over for a few years. He chuckled at the thought: to take over democratically, of course.

  With the sound of the cork popping out they relaxed back into their earlier light-hearted banter, and when the band returned and started playing again, Konrad was on his feet.

  ‘Rosemary, will you dance with me?’

  When she shot Biff a glance he added quickly: ‘With your permission?’

  Biff said: ‘of course,’ and got to his feet, offering his hand. ‘Anna?’

  She got up immediately and together they followed the others on to the floor. It was a slow foxtrot, Anna turned and held up her arms. As Biff placed his hand around her waist he suddenly remembered there was no dress there.

  Her back was smooth, and cool, and it made him feel as if they were being very intimate, not helped by the fact that she snuggled up close to him. He was aware of her warm breath and musky scent.

  They said nothing for a while, just moving to the music, until she whispered: ‘You love Rosemary very much.’

  It was a statement, not a question, but he answered all the same.

  ‘I do. And I can see that it is the same with you and Konrad.’

  She smiled and nodded. They didn’t say anything more. Given another time, another place, they knew that they would have been drawn to one another.

  Anna was very light on her feet. She began to sing the melody softly, making him feel very good.

  As they did a turn he caught a glimpse across the dance floor of Konrad and Rosemary. There was no doubt in his mind that they too were very happy in each other’s company.

  What strange quirk of fate had brought them all together now?

  ‘Penny for them?’

  He came to with a rush. Anna was looking at him, one eyebrow raised, a faint grin playing on her strong, beautiful face. He went bright red, and flustered: ‘Sorry. Just thinking of something Konrad said.’

  He gave her a playful squeeze. ‘My God, your English is so good – where did you pick up that expression?’

  She chuckled. ‘I spent two years doing post-graduate English at Oxford. I learned plenty of vernacular in the pubs after work.’

  It was his turn to laugh, but she continued to look quizzical.

  ‘What was it that Konrad said that you found so interesting?’

  Still red in the face, Biff realized he couldn’t say what he had really been thinking.

  ‘Oh, how he likes Herr Hitler for what he has achieved in Germany.’

  To his surprise, instead of agreeing she turned her nose up.

  ‘Not all of us are so enamoured – that is the correct word, isn’t it?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, but I don’t understand. I thought you would be in full agreement?’

  She said nothing for a while, as if she were carefully selecting her words,
not wanting to go against her new husband.

  ‘He has done wonderful things – there can be no doubt about that. But I fear for the future – for my children – when I have them. Hitler is not a man to rest on his laurels. What will he do next? We are all enraptured by him at the moment and that includes nearly everybody, despite some misgivings about this business with the Jews.’

  She grimaced. ‘There are rumours …’ she shrugged. ‘But it is now too late to influence anything. We can only pray.’

  Her words shook Biff.

  ‘But Konrad – how does he feel? Has he worries?’

  She pursed her lips. ‘Sometimes, but he would never say anything to you; he is a very loyal person, an officer of the old school. He is not in the Nazi Party, though, despite some pressure and worry about future promotion prospects.’

  As the music finished Biff twirled her around.

  ‘Thank you, Anna.’

  They walked back hand in hand to the table. Konrad was already helping to seat Rosemary, holding her chair for her.

  ‘Hey there, you two – what have you been talking about so earnestly? We saw you, didn’t we, Rosemary?’

  Rosemary nodded at Biff.

  ‘We did indeed.’

  Anna, surprisingly, coloured slightly.

  ‘Oh nothing, just the future.’ She glanced quickly at Biff for support as she lied. ‘Wondered where we’d all be in ten years’ time, didn’t we?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes. All with young children by then, no doubt – and you Konrad, you’ll be an admiral, of course.’

  Konrad roared with laughter.

  ‘Oh yes, and I’ll be visited by my friend the air marshal.’

  They all joined in the merriment as Konrad cut the end from a large cigar, but it was Rosemary who said: ‘What a wonderful idea.’

  Everybody looked at her blankly.

  ‘I mean, why not meet here – in ten years’ time. It would be fun to see how we’ve changed.’

  Anna agreed. ‘I think that is a very good idea, but it is a long time ahead.’

  Konrad lit a match and began drawing the air through the cigar, its tip glowing fiery red with every inhalation. When he’d finished he waved the match out and dropped the blackened remains into an ashtray.