Capital Union, A

by Hendry, Victoria

  19

  During the next week, it was more difficult to get food to Hannes with Jeff around. I set another snare and made double quantities of broth and stew, which I slow-cooked in a hay box. Jeff didn’t notice or at least didn’t comment. When he went out for a round of golf or to the post office, I ran upstairs and left food for Hannes just inside the door.

  Every day, Jeff’s typewriter thundered in his study. He was also proofreading The Free Minded Scot, which he said was the text of Douglas’ High Court appeal, as well as a leaflet and statement for the Scots Independent. ‘This should please Professor Gilbert,’ he said. ‘He almost stymied the Stirling conference by saying he wanted a statement that we support the war. He never stopped banging on about it when you were blethering in the kitchen, although you’ll see Douglas hasn’t conceded anything on conscription.’

  He made me sit down in the drawing room and read the words as if it was the Creed, but I sat there wondering why he didn’t want to spend any of the time he had left with me.

  ‘To the Scottish People

  The Scottish National Party says in definite and unmistakable terms:

  We stand firm for freedom…

  We abhor and oppose Fascism…

  In this war we see… our industries closed down, our traders crushed out, our man- and woman-power transported to alien soil and our constitutional rights strangled by the red tape of Westminster… this process can have only one end, the extinction of Scotland. There is only one way to fight it.

  The Scottish people must stand as one man behind all who, on any issue, champion the cause of Scotland.

  And there is only one party which can consistently and effectively do so – the Scottish Nationalist Party.’

  ‘You see,’ said Jeff. ‘We don’t look both ways. Our purpose is clear. Nationalism in a world without Nazism.’

  ‘And how are you going to do that from behind bars?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh, not this again.’ He sighed. ‘Words can pass through bars, Pip. They won’t disarm me by putting me in prison. Anyway, without the distractions of marriage, I can always work on the dictionary. There will be more than a few Scots words from all over the country in that jail. I shall be the honey bee that effortlessly sips the nectar of language.’

  I turned away. He certainly hummed the loudest.

  ‘Where are you going, Pip?’ he asked.

  ‘To clean the stair,’ I said, thinking I might be able to get more food to Hannes in my pail.

  ‘Why are you doing it again?’ he asked. ‘Mrs MacDougall has the card.’

  ‘She has been a wee bit peely-wally recently,’ I said.

  ‘Well, do it later. Come and kiss me. It may be a while before I taste your sweet lips if the rails are as well policed in Saughton as you say they are.’

  ‘Maybe later,’ I said.

  ‘No, now, Pip. It has been over a week.’

  ‘I am not in the mood, Jeff.’

  ‘Well, I am. Come here.’ He stepped towards me.

  ‘I said no.’

  ‘You are my wife.’ He grabbed my arm and pulled me against his chest. ‘You may barely feign interest in my politics – don’t think I haven’t noticed – but you have a duty to your husband. Forget the stair.’

  ‘Let me go. You never even told me you were in the SNP when we married.’ I could hardly breathe and he pushed me back onto the table. The cups crashed to the ground. ‘Now look what you’ve done,’ he said as I wriggled free. ‘Come on, Pip.’ He was laughing. ‘I have your attention now.’

  ‘Stop it, Jeff. You’re scaring me.’

  I lifted the blue ironstone jug from his mother’s wedding set and made as if to throw it at him.

  ‘Put that down. It is irreplaceable.’

  He stepped closer. I threw it at his head, but he ducked and it crashed onto the hearth. ‘I told you not to do that,’ he said.

  I ran into the hall. He picked me up as I unlatched the front door and carried me to the bedroom, throwing me onto my knees on the bed and pulling my skirt up. I screamed as he ran his hand down my legs. ‘I like rationing,’ he said, ‘there is less to take off.’ He pushed my head into the quilt. ‘Stop making such a fuss. Mrs MacDougall will hear you. Now be a good girl and hold still.’

  The satin of the quilt was smooth against my face and the end of a tiny feather poked through it near my eye. The shout at the door startled us both. Hannes was standing there with the broom in his hand.

  ‘Hören Sie auf,’ he said. ‘Sie hat nein gesagt. She said no.’

  Jeff jumped back, pulling at his zip. ‘Who the hell are you?’ he shouted. He tried to push me behind him but I scrambled over to the other side of the bed. The quilt slipped off and I fell on the floor.

  ‘Es macht nichts. Hände hoch!’ He gestured to Jeff to put his hands up and swept the broom at his knees, which buckled. Jeff crumpled to the floor and started crying. ‘Please don’t hurt me,’ he said, raising a hand to protect his head.

  Hannes took a step forward and put the broom on his neck, pushing his head down onto the rug.

  I tried to reach him across the bed but the sheets were all in a fankle, so I shouted, ‘Hannes, stop!’

  He looked at me. His eyes were hard, like he wanted to kill someone.

  ‘No, stop.’ I reached out a hand, and got to the other side.

  ‘Fucking hell. You know him?’ croaked Jeff, aiming a kick at his ankles and trying to push the broom away from his neck and get up. Hannes kicked him in the stomach and his knees jerked up to his chest.

  ‘Don’t hurt him,’ I screamed. Hannes stopped, with his foot pulled back for a second kick, as I fell over Jeff and tried to shield him.

  ‘Er ist nicht besser als ein Tier,’ Hannes said, and spat. ‘He is an animal.’

  Jeff was curled into a ball, crying. I knelt and cradled his head. ‘Leave him alone,’ I said, but Hannes didn’t move. ‘Leave him alone!’ I shouted, and my voice came out as a screech. He backed into the hall.

  ‘What is going on? Who the bloody hell is he?’ Jeff asked me. His eyes took in Professor Schramml’s clothes and he looked back at me. ‘Why is he wearing Schramml’s clothes?’ He scrambled to his feet.

  Hannes eyed him warily.

  ‘It’s a long story. I have been looking after him,’ I said.

  ‘He is German, Agnes.’

  ‘He is a better friend to me than you.’

  My nose was streaming with tears and I wiped them away with the back of my hand. ‘Stay there,’ I said to Hannes.

  Jeff sat back onto the bed, rubbing his stomach. I walked out of the room and into the bathroom. I cried for a long time into the basin, and then I splashed my face. I unpinned my plait to brush it out, but then I picked up my scissors and cut through the rope of my hair. Jeff had wound it round his hand, pulling the hairs at the base of my neck. I put my wedding ring on the shelf. Hannes and Jeff were where I had left them, but Hannes was leaning against the wall, looking wabbit. Jeff saw his attacker weakening and became brave enough to try talking to him in halting German. ‘Wer sind Sie?’ he said, but Hannes didn’t reply. ‘Who are you?’ he repeated.

  He looked at me for an answer, but I walked into the kitchen. Jeff followed me. ‘I am sorry, Agnes. Please talk to me. Oh God, what the hell have you done to your hair?’ he said, and he reached out to touch it. I brushed his hand away.

  Hannes followed us into the kitchen and sat down at the table. I couldn’t look at him. I was afraid of meeting his eyes. ‘What are you going to do?’ I asked Jeff.

  My voice was ragged.

  ‘I’ll make it up to you.’

  ‘I mean about him.’

  ‘I don’t know. That is an interesting question.’

  He looked more focused. Hannes was rubbing his forehead. Jeff pulled his bottle of Talisker from the dresser and poured three large measures. ‘To the divine insanity of war,’ he said, raising his glass, but it bumped against his teeth as he put it to his lips.

  Hannes
sipped his whisky and put the glass back on the table. ‘Wie geht’s Dir?’ he asked me.

  ‘He is asking how you are,’ said Jeff, ‘after being caught in flagrante delicto…’

  ‘Stop using your fancy words,’ I shouted. ‘You are no better than a beast of the field.’

  ‘That is a nice thing to say in front of our guest.’

  Hannes pushed himself to his feet.

  ‘Bitte, setzen Sie sich,’ said Jeff, pointing to the chair. ‘You still haven’t told me who you are. Who is he, Agnes?’

  He was feeling braver now.

  ‘Mrs MacDougall found him, why don’t you ask her?’ And then I regretted letting him know she had been involved.

  ‘Mrs MacDougall and a Nazi, for God’s sake. Do you expect me to believe that?’

  I stood up. ‘Must you talk to me like a bairn?’

  ‘Sit down,’ said Jeff.

  I could see that Hannes wasn’t feeling well now. His cheeks were pale and he rested an arm on the table. Jeff pushed his chair back and looked at him. Hannes stared back. He should never have come downstairs.

  ‘Even if you are here as a guest of my lovely wife, you are still an enemy combatant.’ He began to play with a coin from the housekeeping money I kept in a jar on the table. ‘But he who pays the piper calls the tune.’

  He translated it into German for Hannes, who frowned.

  ‘The question is what should I do.’

  I knew he was going to start talking, tying the words together in a long, long line so they would all run together and confuse me.

  ‘How would this cosy scene in the kitchen look to the outside world?’ he went on.

  ‘Stop talking,’ I shouted. ‘Please just stop talking.’

  But he ignored me, sucking all the air out of the room. ‘A conscientious objector sheltering an enemy soldier – a German, no less. A soon-to-be jailed member of the SNP entertaining a man whose politics the rest of the world finds… distasteful.’

  He swirled the whisky round his glass. ‘It might raise interesting questions of loyalty.’

  ‘Ich bin Österreicher,’ said Hannes.

  ‘You might be Austrian but it didn’t stop you getting into bed with Germany, did it? Or did Germany get into bed with you?’ He laughed. ‘I wonder who else you got into bed with.’

  He pinched my cheeks together and tilted my face up. ‘Meine Frau ist wunderschön, nicht wahr? A real beauty.’

  Hannes pushed himself to his feet. ‘Ich bin schon verheiratet,’ he said.

  ‘Well, you may be married, but that hasn’t stopped you from taking things that weren’t yours – Poland, for example.’

  He poured more whisky. ‘Let’s drink to Poland,’ he said. He took a sip. ‘And Norway. What about a dram for King Haakon? What about a dram for Agnes?’

  He smashed his fist onto the table. ‘A toast to Agnes.’

  He raised his glass to me and drank. ‘You’re not drinking to my wife, Hannes. I take that as a personal insult,’ and he laughed, but it ended in a gulp. He wiped his mouth with his hankie.

  ‘Jeff, please stop. You are being ridiculous,’ I said.

  ‘Not like Douglas,’ he said. ‘Not like the bear. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, if I were more like him?’

  ‘Bitte,’ said Hannes. ‘Beruhigen Sie sich. Morgen wird alles anders scheinen.’

  ‘You shut up. I was talking to my wife. Nothing will be better tomorrow,’ he shouted at him.

  ‘Please, this isn’t helping anyone,’ I said. ‘Why not let him go for now, Jeff? Take time to calm down.’

  ‘Don’t tell me to calm down,’ he replied, his voice rising again. He looked at Hannes, ignoring me. ‘I will be going away for a lot longer than twelve months if they find you here. On the other hand, I could apprehend an enemy soldier and become a national hero. You’d help me, wouldn’t you, Agnes? The loyal, not-so-loyal wife.’

  He turned back to Hannes. ‘They assumed you died in the fire after the crash, you know. A lone pilot downed in heavy mist over the Pentlands. How clever of you to bail out. How very clever of you to find my lovely wife – a heavenly vision, an angel.’

  He filled his glass again. ‘To angels,’ he said, ‘and men who drop from the sky.’

  ‘Das habe ich nicht verstanden,’ said Hannes, looking at me. ‘Please, I don’t understand.’

  Jeff picked up the coin and spun it on the table. ‘Time to choose,’ he said. It clattered as it fell flat, an edge lifting one last time before it ran out of momentum. He slapped his hand over it. ‘Heads or tails?’ he asked. ‘I said heads or tails? Wappen oder Zahl? You call it, Agnes. Tails, he dies a nationalist hero. Heads, I do.’

  ‘Stop playing games,’ I shouted.

  ‘There is no need to shout, Pip. That’s not very ladylike but then I forgot: you are no lady.’

  ‘And you are no gentleman.’

  ‘No, maybe not. Do you think Mother would be disappointed in me? But at least I play by the rules.’

  He turned to Hannes, who looked like he was trapped in a nightmare. ‘Let’s have a gentleman’s agreement, my dear man.’ He imitated the voice from the wireless. ‘Keep it all civilised and above board. Heads, you get to stay. Tails, I call the authorities.’

  He flipped the coin in the air. ‘Call it, Agnes,’ he said. ‘Or I will.’

  He caught it on the back of his hand. The fingers of his left hand lay across the skin. A tendon twitched. I heard the rattle of a cart’s wheels on Canaan Lane.

  ‘Heads,’ I said.

  He lifted his hand. The king’s head stared blindly at the legend on the edge of the coin, the circumference of his world. I remembered his halting voice on the radio, the words of comfort he spoke to the nation; the German name he rubbed out of the history books. Hannes was pushing himself to his feet, but staggered and steadied himself against the table as if he might fall.

  ‘Wouldn’t you know it?’ Jeff said. ‘Fortune favours the brave. It’s heads. Janus is alive and well and the whole world looks both ways. Herr… but I forget, we don’t know your second name, do we? Herr Rank and File. Anyway, I’m off to prison tomorrow, so you can stay upstairs. Sie können dort oben bleiben. Ab morgen bin ich weg. Lucky for you. Sie sind nicht der einzige Gefangener in dieser Stadt. Both prisoners: we have that in common. Looks like we are paying the price for our beliefs. Poor saps too stupid to keep our heads down.’

  I took Hannes by the arm and pulled him towards the door. ‘Yes, take your rat back to his cage, dear. We are all the fools of love and war, but it looks like I am the biggest one of all, thanks to you.’

  He gave Hannes a Nazi salute. ‘Was it worth it?’ he said. ‘Do you think perhaps you should just have stayed at home? Not exported Adolf’s fucking chaos?’

  Hannes stumbled through the door. I listened to his feet echo on the stair as he pulled himself along the banister back to Professor Schramml’s flat. I didn’t know if he was safe there now, but he had nowhere else to go.

  ‘I hate you,’ I said to Jeff. It was the first honest thing I had said to him in a long time. He didn’t reply. I locked myself in the bathroom and lay in the bath for hours. My body was distorted under the water and I moved my legs to see the water running over my thighs, like a tide drifting out over rocks. Some sloshed onto the floor. I turned the tap on with my toes for the third time, but there was no hot water left. I towelled myself dry, put my dressing gown over my nightdress and went into the bedroom. I didn’t speak to Jeff. After folding a few clothes into a small suitcase, and picking up his book from the bedside table, he left the room without a word and slept in his study. In the morning, I heard him clean his teeth and walk towards the front door. I didn’t get up. He closed the door with his key so as not to wake me, but I hadn’t slept. I lay on in bed looking out the window. It was ten o’clock before I wandered through to the kitchen and found his note on top of his proof of Douglas’ articles. It was weighted down with my wedding ring, which I had left in the bathroom. It was the first time I h
ad ever taken it off.

  ‘I apologise, my darling,’ the note read, ‘if I was somewhat more forceful towards you than I intended last night. Can you forgive me? Please remember I remain your loving husband and need you more than ever in my forthcoming ordeal. Thinking of you will lighten the dark days ahead.

  If you would accept some advice, I would pass your guest on to the authorities, but only telephone them if you can get him to leave the flat. He might be dangerous if cornered, although he obviously feels some loyalty to you. I am sure you can think of some pretext. It would be safer for us all that way. Please don’t take any risks.

  Yours aye for Scotland.

  Jeff/Og.

  PS. Could you please post these proofs to the Editor of the Scots Independent?’

  I sat staring out the window until I grew stiff. I didn’t put the ring back on, but left it on the note, staring at the random letters of his empty apology trapped in its circle. The part of me that had already grown cold towards him had shattered under his assault last night, and my chest felt hollow. I used to worry about keeping everything nice. Now I wanted to destroy the cage around me. The broken jug still lay on the hearth, but instead of sweeping it up, I walked into the bedroom. I didn’t recognise the girl in the mirror of the wardrobe door as it swung open. I lifted up armfuls of Jeff’s mother’s clothes and threw them out of the window. A coat hanger snagged on the washing line below and the dress twisted in the breeze until it broke free and fluttered into the next garden. The bonfire I made sang and crackled as I fed it, until the smell of mothballs from the clothes was replaced by the scent of the buddleia. I burnt the fox stole last. His eyes melted as fire crept over his white coat and the black hole of his nose was the last to go. Perhaps Hannes watched from the window? I didn’t turn round until there was only ash and glowing embers, and I warmed myself there until it grew dark.

  20

  Hannes tapped softly on the door that night and, without a word, made soup in my kitchen. He watched me take the first mouthful and then left looking satisfied, but I poured the bowl back in the pan after he had gone. I found it strange to see him chopping the onion and potatoes, boiling water and lifting the kettle with a cloth, just as I did. His sleeves were rolled up and he had tied a pinny over his clothes. He seemed less like an enemy soldier and more like a parent to me. I could imagine his own mother in her kitchen, smiling at him, preparing food. It was so ordinary, so everyday. I wondered where the politics came from that swept everyone up and away from everything they knew, what it was that made them into people they had never dreamt of becoming. I thought of Jeff alone in his cell and wondered if he was sorry for what he had done to me. We had never really been able to talk. We had only played at marriage. I expected he was looking forward to being with Douglas again. Politics was his first love, I knew that now. I tried not to think of Millie.