Repatriation had been a slow business, and even being billeted on a farm with a certain amount of freedom hadn’t eased his worry. The Sawyers were good people, though, and treated him with great kindness; and he repaid them by seducing Jane, the young girl they were looking after. He was still ashamed of that.
Dieter groaned. He was sure she had been in love with him, and he had taken advantage of her affection. He was a young man and had been a prisoner for four years; the temptation was too great. When he looked back now, he could see that the only time he had found any peace was when he had been with her. She had been such a gentle girl, delicate, and so loving. She asked him if he would stay in England, but he couldn’t do that. He had to find out what had happened to his family. She understood his need to go back to Germany, and said she must go back to her home as well. On the day she left, she hugged him with tears in her eyes and said that she hoped he would find his family. She refused to give him her address, saying that it would be better if they didn’t see each other any more. Then she had gone, and he’d never seen or heard from her again. At the time he had been too desperate to get back home to let it bother him. If that was the way she wanted it, then that was all right with him!
It was the middle of 1947 before he was on his way home. What he found tore the heart out of him. His beautiful city was all but obliterated, and there was no sign of his family, not even a grave. It was as if they had never existed!
When it was evident that his family had perished, he got out of Dresden and headed for Charlottenburg in Berlin, one of the boroughs managed by the British Army. For two years he drifted aimlessly. He lived in a squalid basement room and played piano in bars for food and drink. Too much drink. But there was a terrible shortage of food, and anything he could get was a blessing. He had lost a lot of weight since his return and looked older than his twenty-nine years.
He knew this was no way to live and that he should do something to pull his life together, but he couldn’t seem to rouse himself. If he stopped drinking, he might be able to sort himself out, but the drink helped to ease his pain for a while. It made him physically sick when he thought how his parents and young sister must have suffered in the horrific bombing.
Dieter dragged himself off the bed and stumbled to the sink in the corner of the room, splashing cold water on his face.
The past was too awful. He didn’t want to think about it any more.
Forcing himself to move, he took his only suit out of the cupboard and laid it on the bed, tossing a clean shirt and tie beside it. A vigorous polish of his shoes hid their shabby appearance. He had found a job in the bar of a decent hotel, a big improvement on some of the seedy places he’d been playing in. He had better make himself look smart because the wages were a lot better than those he had been earning, and he might be given tips instead of drink.
Then he turned his attention to his face. God, what a mess! His fair hair was matted and standing on end; he had two days’ growth of beard and dark smudges under his eyes. Picking up a towel and soap, he headed upstairs to the only bathroom in the building. The bath was too stained and unsavoury-looking to sit in, so he half filled it with tepid water and stood to wash himself and his hair. He grimaced in disgust. Conditions had been better than this in the prisoner-of-war camps.
By the time he was dressed he looked and felt more respectable. The hotel was half an hour’s walk away, and he used that time to clear his head. He had to make a good impression on his first night.
When he arrived, he was shown into a large lounge. It looked even bigger than when he had come for the interview. It was already busy, with waiters rushing around serving drinks. It was a popular place with the British officers, so business was brisk.
‘Ah, Herr Cramer.’ The manager came up to him. ‘Play quiet music, please. We wish our guests to relax and be able to talk to each other without shouting above the music.’
‘I understand.’ Dieter sat at the beautiful grand piano.
‘Where is your music?’ the man asked.
‘I don’t need any.’ Dieter gave a wry smile when he saw the manager’s doubtful expression. It had been the under manager who had interviewed him; this man had never heard him play. ‘I only use music when I’m learning a new piece. After that I can play without it.’
‘Very well. You are on a week’s trial, so we will see how it goes. You will play from eight until midnight, with a half-hour break at ten o’clock, when you will be given a meal.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ Dieter opened the piano lid and ran his hands over the keys, feeling the smooth ivory under his fingers, and then he began to play.
The manager listened for a couple of minutes, nodded in satisfaction and walked away.
The lounge almost emptied out when dinner was served, but Dieter kept playing. Music was like balm to him as he lost himself in the sound. He was surprised once to hear a spattering of applause when he stopped for a moment. Turning his head, he smiled at them, then continued to play.
At ten o’clock he went to the kitchen and was given the best meal he’d had in a long time. And he could actually taste the food; he hadn’t had one drink tonight. When he finished, he thanked the chef and took a small glass of beer back to the piano. He would see if he could manage with that tonight. He was sure too much alcohol had triggered the nightmare.
The lounge was crowded again now, everyone chattering after their dinner. Dieter took a mouthful of beer and began playing again. He was stone-cold sober, and when a young woman walked past with dark chestnut hair, the memories of Jane flooded back; try as he might, he couldn’t stem the flow. She had been such a loving girl, and they had spent as much time together as they could without raising suspicion. Although the Sawyers had treated him with respect, he was a German, and he knew they would not approve of him spending so much time with Jane. His months at the farm had been a blessed relief from camp life, and, if it hadn’t been for the worry about his family, he could have been happy. Jane had such an infectious laugh, and he had grabbed at any moments of forgetfulness in her company. Had he felt more than affection for her? He shrugged, knowing that he hadn’t been capable of love at that moment, or now. He shouldn’t have seduced her, though. She hadn’t been much older than his sister …
The pain ripped through him. His darling sister hadn’t had a chance to grow into a woman. Jane had gone back to her life in London, but there hadn’t been a life for him to return to. Since stumbling through the ruins of his home he had been lost. Utterly lost.
He stopped playing, removed his hands from the keys and bowed his head. Today he had looked into the shadows of his life without the dulling effect of drink. So much sorrow and anger. So much regret …
It was only then he realized that the room was silent. He lifted his head just as the enthusiastic applause filled the room.
The manager strode up to him, all smiles. ‘That was wonderful, Herr Cramer. Play like that and we will employ you on a permanent basis.’
Dieter was then inundated with requests, and he settled down to finish the last half hour of his session, with plenty of tips being put in his dish. He was a good pianist, but this was the best response he’d ever had. Of course it was obvious what had happened: he had poured his pain and anguish into his music. Well, he was sure he could do that every night, because he had plenty of raw emotions to spare.
8
Being anxious to get back to the farm, Angie rushed through what she had to do. Danny had been very brave in agreeing to stay with Hetty and John, but she had seen his worried expression as he hugged her when she left for the station.
The solicitor was a great help, immediately finding her a tenant for the house – someone he knew. The next job was to pack their personal belongings and choose enough furniture for the cottage. As she gazed around the house before leaving, she cried a little, and was rather ashamed of herself. She had lived there all her life, and the place held such happy memories of her parents. But she wasn’t selling and might come
back one day, so that gave her some comfort. It was still a terrible wrench to leave, and she didn’t dare look back as she walked up the road.
The return journey to Somerset helped her to sort out her feelings. She had Danny to think about now. This move was right, she told herself firmly. It would give him the chance of a much better life.
The account with Mr Simpson had been settled, and he would take a small commission for looking after the houses for her. It wasn’t the kind of work he usually took on, she was sure, but he genuinely seemed to want to help her. She had a feeling that Jane had made a big impression on him. He asked if she had found out anything about Danny’s father, and she explained that she suspected the Sawyers knew more than they were willing to tell her. She felt that if no one would talk about him, he couldn’t be a very desirable person. Yet it was hard to believe that Jane would have been in love with someone who wasn’t a good man. Her cousin had been a loving girl, but Angie had never considered her to be a fool. And when she considered Danny, it was impossible to imagine that his father could have been anything but a fine man.
The train pulled into Bridgewater Station at three in the afternoon, and she was lucky enough to catch a bus almost at once. She had managed everything in two days and hoped Danny was all right.
When she walked into the yard, Danny gave a cry of delight, throwing himself at her and nearly knocking her off her feet. She was relieved to see that he looked bright and lively, and hadn’t been pining while she had been away. It was very reassuring.
‘Auntie, you’re back! Come and see. We’ve got a baby cow.’
Angie allowed herself to be dragged towards the barn, laughing and waving at Hetty as she came out of the house.
The barn was warm, smelling of hay and animals. It wasn’t at all unpleasant, and made Angie smile as she remembered how two young girls had believed it was a wonderland. And after the dust, noise and destruction taking place in London at that time, a magical place was how it had appeared to them. Now Jane’s son was enjoying the same pleasure.
‘Look,’ Danny whispered, squirming with pleasure. ‘She’s sleeping.’
The calf lifted her head and gazed at them with velvet brown eyes, then went back to sleep again.
‘She’s beautiful,’ Angie said quietly. ‘Let’s leave her in peace, shall we?’
Danny nodded, and they slipped out of the barn.
Hetty and John were in the yard waiting for them, and when Angie saw their smiles of pleasure at her return, the sadness about leaving London vanished. This was their home now. Danny was happy, and she would soon settle in.
‘Come and have a cup of tea and tell us how you got on.’ Hetty gave her a hug, and they all trooped into the kitchen. Danny held her hand, looking up and chattering away nineteen to the dozen. He was so pleased she was back. When they were enjoying their tea, Hetty told her that he had been a good boy but had missed her very much.
‘Did you manage to make all the arrangements to move?’ John asked eagerly.
Angie nodded, her mouth full of a delicious sponge cake. She was hungry after her journey. Swallowing, she said, ‘The house was rented out almost immediately. There is a great shortage of houses to let in London, and the removal van will be coming the day after tomorrow.’
‘That will be just right.’ John stood up. ‘Come and have a look at the cottage, Angie. We’ve had a lot of help and you won’t recognize the place.’
‘I’d love to see it.’ Angie steadied Danny as he slithered off the chair, in too much of a hurry as usual. ‘I hope my furniture will fit all right.’
‘I’m sure it will.’ Hetty held Danny’s hand as they clambered into John’s old truck. ‘And we’ve found a lovely piano, haven’t we, Danny?’
He gave an excited dimpled smile and sat on his grandmother’s lap, as that was the only way they could all fit in.
When they arrived at the cottage, Angie couldn’t believe her eyes. The outside had a fresh coat of white paint; a soldier was mending the broken trellis and another digging over the front garden.
‘What’s going on?’
John laughed. ‘That’s nothing. You wait till you see the inside.’
‘I don’t believe this,’ was all she could say. There were more soldiers working away. The kitchen had been transformed, and the rooms gleamed with fresh paint.
Danny suddenly gave a squeal of delight and shot out of the back door. Angie followed and saw Bob, jacket off and sleeves rolled up, climbing the tree with a length of rope in his hand.
‘Uncle Bob’s building my swing!’
‘Our swing.’ A little girl around Danny’s age was wriggling through a gap in the hedge. ‘Uncle Bob’s doing it for both of us.’
‘It’s in my garden.’ Danny looked offended.
‘You can have first go.’ She pulled a piece of privet out of her hair, ignoring the fresh tear in her frock.
Angie watched in amazement. Uncle Bob? And this must be Emma from next door. She fought back the laughter as the two children continued to bicker about whose swing it was. Emma was petite, with fair hair and baby blue eyes. She looked like every mother’s dream of a beautiful, gentle little daughter, but that was as far as the illusion went. The determined set of her mouth showed a little girl with a strong character and a tendency to want to be in charge. Hearing a noise coming from the tree, Angie looked up and saw Bob convulsed with laughter.
He winked at her. ‘You’re going to have fun with those two. They’ve been arguing ever since they met.’
Angie decided to deal with this straight away, and in a firm voice said, ‘You’d better come down, Uncle Bob. We won’t have a swing if the children are going to fight over it.’
Suddenly there was silence as two pairs of eyes gazed at her in horror. Emma was the first to recover. ‘We won’t fight. We’ll share it. We can push each other.’
‘She knows it’s my swing,’ Danny protested, not willing to give way on this important point. ‘But I’ll let her have a go. She’s just bossy.’
‘I’m not!’
‘Enough!’ Angie could see they were about to start again. ‘You must promise me not to fight or I’ll have it taken down again.’
Both children clamped their lips together and nodded. Their expressions said that if this was what it took to get their longed-for swing, then no sacrifice was too great.
‘Good.’ Angie looked up the tree. ‘You can go ahead, Uncle Bob.’
He was fighting to look severe, and disappeared into the foliage, chortling with amusement.
Angie was sure she heard a sigh of relief from the children and, not being able to control herself any longer, went back to the kitchen and collapsed in helpless laughter.
‘Ah,’ said John. ‘I see you’ve met Emma.’
After a while she managed to pull herself together and, straightening up, wiped her eyes. She wasn’t sure if it was from laughing or tears. It was so wonderful to see Danny behaving like a normal boy after the trauma of losing his mother. ‘What’s all this Uncle Bob business?’
‘Danny started that.’ Hetty was grinning as she watched the children in the garden. ‘He was trying to get the better of Emma by declaring that Bob belonged to him, so the swing he was going to put up would be his.’
‘And what did Emma say about that?’
‘She said he was her uncle as well, so there.’ John roared with laughter. ‘Don’t worry, Angie, they’re going to be the best of friends. Sally told us that Emma is full of excitement about Danny coming to live next door.’
‘I hope you’re right, otherwise I’ll spend my time prising them apart.’ Angie watched Bob jump from the tree and walk towards the cottage. There were two stout pieces of rope hanging from the tree. All it needed now was the seat, which was propped up by the kitchen door.
‘Oh, he’s hurt himself.’ Angie jumped up. ‘He’s limping.’
‘He shouldn’t be climbing trees,’ Hetty told her. ‘He was injured soon after D-Day and shipped back home. When hi
s leg healed, they sent him down here to take charge of the camp in Goathurst.’
‘Much to his disgust.’ John watched as the two children stopped him, talking and waving their arms about.
‘He wanted to get back in the fight, and when they wouldn’t let him he turned up here in no mood to stand any nonsense. He soon sorted out the troublemakers and had them shipped to another camp. He’s a tough man but a fair one.’
‘He’s got a gentle side as well.’ Hetty smiled. ‘Look at the way he’s talking to the children.’
Tough, fair, gentle. That made him a complex man, Angie recognized. ‘Is he married?’
‘Not now.’ Hetty’s smile died. ‘The poor man came home from the desert war and found his wife had left him. He says he’ll never marry again, and that would be a shame.’
Angie nodded, feeling sadness for the man she was growing to like and respect. How terrible it must have been for him to find his wife had left him while he’d been away.
The children ran off, chasing each other and shrieking with laughter as Bob came into the kitchen. ‘Give me a hand to fix the seat, will you, John?’
‘Have a cup of tea first, Bob.’
He held up his hands in mock alarm. ‘Not just yet, Hetty, my life won’t be worth living if I don’t get this swing finished.’ He winked at Angie. ‘Danny’s just told Emma she can have first go, so they’re the best of friends again.’
Fighting with Shadows Page 8
