by Lewis Orde
‘All right then. I’ll offer him a position in store operations, that’s what he’s doing for Heinrich now.’
‘Thank you!’ Katherine threw her arms around Roland’s neck and kissed him.
But he knew that even if she hadn’t made the promise he wouldn’t have been able to refuse her anyway.
*
Roland and Katherine were driven to the airport by Alf Goldstein to meet the Lufthansa flight bringing Franz Kassler from Stuttgart. Goldstein had been surprised at Franz’s appointment to the Eagles Group, and curious to meet the son of the man whose path he had crossed in Bergen-Belsen. When Roland described Franz’s appearance as they waited for the flight, Goldstein just nodded.
‘Another of your stereotypical Nazi specimens, eh?’ Roland asked.
‘They all look the same to me.’
‘Change your mind about this one, Alf. He’s already been in hot water for demonstrating against the right. Katherine says he and his father get on like cat and dog, and Kassler’s no Nazi to begin with.’
‘I’ll take your word for it, but please excuse me if I click my heels and start goose-stepping when I see him.’
Roland heard Katherine’s excited shout and looked toward the arrival gate. Franz Kassler was even taller than he remembered, blonder still. After a quick embrace they walked over to where Roland and Alf waited, arm in arm.
‘How are you, sir? I am delighted to see you again.’ Franz set down his two cases, shook Roland’s hand formally, waited to be introduced to Goldstein.
‘This is Alf Goldstein, you’ll be seeing him around the office.’
‘I am pleased to meet you, sir.’
‘Likewise,’ Goldstein muttered and stooped to pick up one of the cases.
‘Thank you, but I can manage perfectly.’ Franz hoisted the two heavy cases and began walking toward the terminal exit with Katherine beside him.
During the drive back to Stanmore Roland asked Franz about his father, tried to elicit some information about the arguments Katherine had mentioned. All Kassler had ever admitted was regretting that he would never be as close to his son as Roland was to Katherine.
Franz was quite open about his relationship with his father. ‘He believes that I should agree with him about everything. I don’t, which is why we fight. I see in my father the generation that led us into a catastrophic war—’
‘Wait a minute, young man,’ Roland grabbed hold of Franz’s arm. ‘Your father was one of those who did their best to stop it. I can vouch for that. So can Alf.’
‘Their best was not good enough. Tell me something, sir, does Katherine agree with everything you say, with every position you support?’
‘You must be joking,’ Roland murmured. He glanced into the rear-view mirror and saw Goldstein looking at him, face beaming in a wide smile. Despite the rigid formality, this young man reminded Roland uncannily of himself; stiff-necked, determined to speak his mind. How could he accept such qualities in himself and question them in Kassler’s son? ‘There are plenty of demonstrations in London against the American presence in Vietnam, Franz. If you join those and get arrested, the odds are you’ll get deported. And if you drag Katherine along with you to a protest, you won’t even have to wait to get deported. I’ll do the job myself.’
‘There’s no need for concern, sir. When I protested in Germany I wasn’t demonstrating so much against the Americans – no matter, how unjust their involvement in Vietnam – but against the government of my father’s generation. They took us into a war and they still govern our country. I was protesting what my father’s generation left as a legacy: a divided country, and the reputation of being the birthplace of some of the most horrendous acts known to man.’
‘I see.’ Roland was no match for the young man’s intensity. No wonder Katherine was so taken with him; those countless letters must have read straight from the heart. He turned to look at her but she was hunched forward, gazing raptly at Franz. ‘Would you like to bring Franz to Michael’s wedding?’
‘I’d love to.’ The question indicated to Katherine that her father had accepted Franz completely.
*
Throughout Michael Adler’s entire wedding party, Albert Adler sat at a table formally dressed in a tuxedo, thick glasses hiding his eyes. Sometimes the nurse who had accompanied him to Eldridge’s sat with him, talking, patting his hand. Other times he was joined by one of his relatives, a niece or nephew from his late wife’s family. Roland went up to Albert only once, to ask if there was anything he could get for him. Albert shook his head and, quite courteously, replied that he needed nothing. For a moment it seemed to Roland that he wanted to say more. He waited expectantly, but Albert only looked away. Roland walked off, wondering what confused thoughts were going through Albert’s mind . . . his son working for the man who had taken over what should have been his birthright. When he reached the other side of the restaurant, Roland looked back. He pitied Albert, had wanted to speak to him, but couldn’t bring himself to do so. Roland knew there were words that had to be said, words that might bridge the differences – the hatreds – of the past. But he couldn’t find them, at least not now.
He looked around the small dance floor that had been set up in the middle of the restaurant. Michael was dancing with Lisa, completely oblivious to anyone else. And Katherine with Franz. Since he’d started working for the Eagles Group three weeks before, Franz and Katherine had been inseparable – evenings together, lunch hours when they could arrange them to coincide. Franz had stayed at the house in Stanmore for four days, the amount of time it took him to find a furnished apartment in town. Money didn’t present a problem. What he lacked from the salary he earned at the Eagles Group was compensated for with money sent by his father. Roland found the gesture both touching and amusing – though the only point Franz and his father could apparently agree on was that they should live in separate countries, Kassler continued to be a father to Franz – the kind of father he believed he should be, making up with money what they lacked in closeness. And Franz accepted it, as if he understood that this was his father’s way of showing love, the only way he knew how. Roland mused that it was a kind of father-son relationship after all . . .
‘Doesn’t watching all these people make you want to dance?’
Roland turned to find Sally standing next to him. ‘Is that an invitation?’ He took her in his arms and began to circle the floor slowly.
‘Whom do you want me to bump into this time?’
‘No one.’
‘I was watching you just now, when you were staring at Franz and Katherine. You reminded me of Ambassador Menendez keeping an eye on Catarina that time at Claridge’s.’
‘Funny you should say that. It’s a comparison I’ve been making myself lately.’
‘Why don’t you get in touch with the old bastard? He’s still alive and kicking.’
Roland nodded. He had seen a story in a business magazine only a couple of months earlier about his former father-in-law. One of his hotels had been sold to the Hilton chain. ‘Maybe I will one day. Do a good deed by giving him the opportunity to see his granddaughter.’
‘You were looking worried, though. Is it Katherine and Franz?’
‘No. If anything I was thinking about Michael’s father. He seems like such a deflated man. Sometimes I wonder if I could have used a softer touch when I was trying to acquire Adler’s.’
‘You’re in a pensive mood.’
‘I know. I was thinking about Simon as well. I’ve seen him twice since that business with Rushden. It seems that everywhere I go I have a negative effect.’
‘Don’t be so stupid. Just look out there at Katherine. You had an effect on Franz’s father as well. You certainly did something very positive there.’
‘Yes, I did.’ Roland cheered up at the thought. Katherine’s face reflected sheer happiness as she danced with Franz; a joy she might never have known had another British officer interrogated Kassler.
When the party ended, Sally offered to drive R
oland back to Stanmore. He looked for Katherine, who told him that Franz would see her home; they wanted to go to a nightclub first. Roland glanced at Sally and saw she was fighting to keep a smile from her face; history had an uncomfortable knack of repeating itself.
On the way out, Roland stopped to wish Michael and his wife good luck. They were standing next to Albert, and at the sound of Roland’s voice some life flickered in the old man’s eyes.
‘Mr Eagles, I want you to know that I hold no ill feelings for what happened between us.’
‘I’m glad to hear that, Mr Adler.’
‘You and I . . . I think we have to sit down and talk one day. Despite our own differences, my son has become very close to you.’
Roland waited for more, for an opening he could use to say what he wanted but Albert looked away, spoke to a member of his late wife’s family. Roland realized the man’s concentration span was limited; the moment Albert’s attention left Roland he forgot about him completely.
‘Albert seems to have softened,’ Sally said as she and Roland left the restaurant.
‘Maybe he figures his time’s coming, he wants to make amends.’
‘For what? The way he treated you?’
Roland didn’t answer; he felt he had said enough already.
They reached Stanmore just before midnight, and Roland asked Sally in. She made coffee, then they sat in the front room with one dim light on, looking through the window at the darkened common. ‘You’re worried about Katherine, aren’t you?’ Sally said.
‘I wouldn’t be much of a father if I weren’t, would I?’
‘Then why did you agree to take Franz into the Eagles Group?’
‘Katherine wanted it.’
‘Roland, she’s almost twenty. She can take care of herself.’
‘No father ever admits that about his own daughter, Sally. You know that.’
‘Don’t you mean that no middle-aged, insecure father ever admits that about his daughter?’ She tweaked him playfully on the chin and he grinned. ‘So that’s why you invited me in – so you’d have company while you wait up for her?’
‘How did you guess?’
‘It doesn’t require much guesswork to know the way your mind operates, Roland. I’ve known you for far too long. But I’m not going to be a party to any confrontation. Katherine works for me and I intend to keep our relationship strictly professional. Good night.’ She took the cups into the kitchen and left them on the counter. Roland saw her to the door, then returned to the front room, turned out the light and sat down by the window, smoking and thinking.
It was almost five o’clock when a red MGB sports car pulled into the driveway, its tiny sidelights the only illumination. The doors remained closed as Katherine and Franz shared a final, passionate embrace, then the interior light flickered on as Katherine climbed out. She waved, blew a kiss and stood watching as the MGB roared off down the hill toward the village. Roland set the cigar down in an ashtray when he heard the front door open and softly close.
‘Kathy!’
She stopped in the hall, startled at hearing her name called.
‘In the front room.’ He turned on the light. ‘Where did you go with Franz?’
‘To a jazz club.’
‘Until this late?’ There was no anger, no reproach in his voice even when he noticed how disheveled she looked; her hair mussed, her makeup smeared.
‘We went for a walk along the Embankment afterwards.’
Roland glanced through the window; it couldn’t be any warmer than forty degrees out there. Katherine wore nothing heavier than a narrow sable stole over a long, flimsy dress. He knew she was lying but he played the game her way. ‘You must have frozen half to death.’
‘Franz had his arm around me.’
‘I should hope so. You’d better get some sleep, you’ve got work in the morning.’ He wished now that he hadn’t waited up, hadn’t known what time she got home. He had asked her questions that had forced her to lie.
Katherine began to climb the stairs. Halfway up, she turned around and returned to the front room. ‘Will you promise you won’t scream?’
‘About what?’
‘I can’t lie to you. We didn’t go to a jazz club – we didn’t even go for a walk. We went up to Franz’s apartment.’
‘All right, Kathy. Go on up to bed.’ He felt an odd mixture of emotions. Relief because she had told him the truth; and shock because he knew now what that truth meant.
‘Are you going to see Franz tomorrow?’ she asked.
‘Undoubtedly.’ He saw a worried expression on her face and added, ‘We do work in the same building after all.’
‘That isn’t what I meant.’
‘I know exactly what you meant. Do you love him?’
‘I think so.’
‘That’s not good enough, Kathy. I knew I loved your mother when I was with her the first time. She knew she loved me. We didn’t make love just for the exercise.’
‘How about Sally then, when you first met her?’
‘Sally? Has she been talking to you?’
Katherine nodded. ‘I ask her for advice sometimes.’
‘Did she tell you it was all right for you and Franz to . . .?’ He couldn’t even finish the sentence; he couldn’t believe that Sally would give Katherine such advice. So much for keeping their relationship on a purely professional level . . .
‘She told me to do whatever I thought was right.’
‘Katherine . . .’ Without realizing it, Roland had used her formal name. ‘Was this the first time?’
‘Yes.’
He found himself wishing that Sally had stayed. She would know how to handle this situation better than he could – but God only knew how he’d managed to let himself be trapped into this conversation in the first place . . . Because he had wanted to find out what time his daughter came in, that was why. ‘Did you take precautions?’ he asked, and realized he was blushing.
‘Franz did.’
Feeling his face burn even more, Roland tried to think of something witty to dispel the tension. ‘Did the earth move?’ he said, smiling slightly.
‘I think so. No . . .’ Katherine said, her eyes shining, ‘I know so.’
‘Good. That’s all that matters.’ He waited for her to go upstairs, then let himself out of the house, cigar glowing in his mouth as he walked across the common. What kind of a conversation was that to have with his daughter? He had no business asking about her private life. He’d never had parents to answer to, so why should he expect his daughter to answer to him?
She had, though. So truthfully and guilelessly that he had turned crimson. Was he really getting that old?
*
Roland saw Franz in the office the following day but he never mentioned waiting up for Katherine. If Katherine had said anything, the young man didn’t show it. He simply carried on his work as normal, helping to ensure that the stores ran smoothly.
Roland wondered what to do. The last thing he wanted was to project himself into the kind of situation he’d suffered with Ambassador Menendez, where he stood like a forbidding figure between two young people in love. But wasn’t that the position in which he continued to see himself, ever since Katherine’s interest in Franz had become so serious? And who was to say that Menendez’s position had been so terribly wrong? Misguided, perhaps, but his main concern had still been the welfare of his daughter.
A week later, Katherine resolved the dilemma for her father by telling him she wanted to live on her own.
‘In some dingy apartment?’ Roland asked, horrified. ‘That’s all you’ll be able to afford on the rate the Eagle pays you.’
‘Well . . . not exactly on my own.’
‘With Franz? Move in with him?’ That did it for Roland. ‘I’m going to invite him here for dinner tomorrow night, Kathy. I think it’s time I spoke to the two of you.’
Dinner was a formal affair, with Roland seated at the head of the table, Katherine on his right, Franz to his
left. He waited until the meal had been served, the wine poured.
‘What’s this about Katherine wanting to move in with you, Franz?’ Roland said once the meal was under way.
‘We want to live together, sir,’ Franz replied candidly.
Roland gazed down the length of the table at the crisp linen table cloth, the sparkling crystal, gleaming silverware. He wished fervently he had someone here to help him through this. Even Sally. Especially Sally, since she’d been the one to advise Katherine to do whatever she felt was right. ‘Living together is not something you just decide to do on the spur of the moment.’ He hoped he didn’t sound too pompous – too much like a company chairman giving his annual report. ‘It’s a proper commitment.’
‘We understand that,’ Katherine replied.
‘On the contrary, Kathy. I don’t believe you do. Either of you. You don’t set up house together and then tear it all down a few weeks or a few months later because your arrangement hasn’t worked out. Planning to live together is like a business deal – you weigh each factor very carefully, assess everything—’
‘Sir,’ Franz broke into Roland’s speech. ‘I love your daughter very much. She loves me. Is that a strong enough basis for such a commitment?’
‘She thinks she loves you. That’s what she told me.’
Franz gazed across the table at Katherine. ‘I do love him,’ she said. ‘Does that satisfy you, or are you going to stand in our way as my grandfather did to you and my mother?’
Again that comparison . . . Roland could see him now, standing in front of his own portrait . . . ‘It’s not the custom in my family to marry . . .’ Well, never mind what was or wasn’t the custom in Menendez’s family. Roland looked at Franz, then at Katherine. ‘Please don’t place me in the same category as Nicanor Menendez. He objected to me because of my background, not because we had decided frivolously to marry, let alone live together.’
Katherine and Franz stared blankly at Roland, and he realized that neither had caught the gist of his words.
‘Kathy, you know it’s not Franz I object to, otherwise I never would have agreed to find a job for him over here. If you two are that certain that living together is right, then you might as well go the whole damned route and get married!’
