Forbidden Liaison: They lived and loved for the here and now (4 page)

‘I must confess I am envious of your combat record. Several times I have requested transfer to the Front but Berlin do not appear to even read the requests I put forward.’ The Major was becoming really rattled.

The Oberst looked across at the Major. ‘It is sad to say, for all of us here, the Oberleutnant has been mentioned more times in despatches than the three of us put together. It must have been a proud moment for you and your family when you received the Fatherland’s grateful thanks?’

Heinrich just nodded.

‘What was your civilian role? The Hauptmann asked, trying to relieve the tensions that had managed to hang about the air like mortar shell smoke.

‘I was an architect. A good one, if I may say so, but finding a job was difficult. I believe I was luckier than most. When the war exploded about my ears it put paid to that career for the time being. I am now content doing my bit for the Fatherland.’ Heinrich had come to say what they wanted to hear.

‘In my opinion, Oberleutnant, you would rather have a slide-rule and pencil in your hand, than a Schmeisser and stick grenade,’ the Major retorted.

‘Well, of course I would. You would rather be riding that horse of yours through a Bavarian forest than through the streets of St Helier, wouldn’t you?’ Heinrich replied.

Heinrich thought the Major might jump out of his seat, slap him around the face with his black leather gloves then invite him to a dual at dawn at that last remark. But he began to admire the man for his self-control, then chastise himself for being too objectionable.

‘Cigars, anyone?’ Marian asked, trying to burst the tense atmosphere.

The box was passed around the table and Heinrich took one. Without waiting for the clipper to come around he bit off the end and had lit it before the others had time to take of the wrapping. As he took deep draws on the tobacco he tried to relax and savour the pleasure of upsetting the Major more than he had intended.

‘Odette,’ Marian suddenly shouted. ‘Clear the table, please.’

Odette couldn’t leave the table without trying her luck one last time. She put her hand on Heinrich’s inner thigh and moved it slowly towards his crotch. Heinrich sat very still as he stretched out his left hand to reach for his glass of brandy. The glass and contents suddenly landed in Odette’s lap.

She stood up screaming. ‘Look what you’ve done, you clumsy lout.’

Lout? Lout? Heinrich hadn’t heard that English word before. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said in English. ‘How very clumsy of me. May I?’ he said as he picked up his napkin and began to wipe down her dress.

‘Leave me alone,’ Odette yelled.

Heinrich caught sight of the Oberst grinning. ‘Sometimes, my left arm spasms. I have to exercise it every so often,’ Heinrich explained. The Major was now on his feet and he followed Odette into the kitchen where her mother was. Heinrich sat down again. ‘Tell me,’ he asked Collette. ‘What does the English word
lout
mean?’

Collette smiled. It was the first smile he had seen on her face all evening. ‘It means someone who is vulgar, a ruffian,’ she replied.

Heinrich drew thoughtfully on his cigar and nodded. ‘I think she could possibly be right,’ he mused.

‘More brandy, Oberleutnant?’ the Oberst asked, still grinning.

‘No, thank you, Sir, if you don’t mind I will take my leave. I have to be up early in the morning.’ And as he rested his cigar in the ashtray the Major came back into the dining room.

‘How is Miss Fitzgerald? Not ruined her dress, I hope?’ Heinrich asked. The Major just glared at him and sat down beside Collette.

‘The Oberleutnant is about to leave,’ the Oberst said to the Major. ‘I Trust you will give him all the assistance he needs to help him settle into his new post?’

‘Of course, Sir,’ the Major replied.

‘And I trust you will show respect for the Major’s rank when in the company of those of lower rank,’ the Oberst said looking at Heinrich.

‘Naturally, Sir,’ Heinrich replied.             

‘And I trust you have had an enjoyable evening?’ the Oberst added.

‘It’s been most enlightening,’ Heinrich smiled as he stood up. ‘Good evening,’ he said and he walked to the dresser to pick up his cap to put it on his head: salute - the Wehrmacht salute - then he turned to walk out. As he left the building, having had too much to drink, which left his legs feeling as though they were wading through deep mud after a Russian thaw, he began to think he was the only sane person in the world and everyone else around him had gone stark, staring mad.

Heinrich walked into the communal kitchen the following morning and looked around. The table was spotlessly clean, but he complained anyway.

‘This place gets more like a pig-sty every day,’ he grumbled.

‘Sir,’ they all stood up.

‘What is that?’ he asked looking at yesterday’s stale bread.

‘Breakfast, Sir,’ Busch replied.

‘I’ve seen better food in a pig-swill bucket. Coffee?’ he asked.

‘Sir,’ the boy shouted as he poured out a mug of steaming hot, fresh coffee.

‘If you men like living in a pig-sty then I suggest you remove yourself to one,’ Heinrich said, his face taking on the pained look of a man with severe toothache as the cook put his breakfast in front of him. ‘I’m not eating that shit again,’ he moaned. ‘I suffered all day yesterday. What else is there?’

‘Nothing, Sir,’ the cook replied.

‘A good supplier you turned out to be.’

Margaret had heard Heinrich’s objectionable tone from the hallway, but she knocked on the kitchen door and walked in anyway, wanting to know what all the fuss was about. As he turned his head towards her Heinrich smiled weakly.

‘Good morning, Oberleutnant,’ she said, a faint smirk distorting her lips.

‘Good morning,’ Heinrich replied, feigning cheerfulness.

‘I couldn’t help but hear you,’ Margaret said.

Heinrich closed his eyes as he looked away. If she had come to complain then he would have something to say to her this morning.

‘Today’s, laundry day. If I don’t get it in by ten then it will have to wait until next week,’ Margaret explained.

Heinrich felt exasperated. ‘I will inform my men,’ he said coldly.

Without anything else to say, Margaret walked from the kitchen, closing the door behind her leaving Heinrich with a feeling of utter uselessness. He suddenly felt impotent, inadequate. How was it, that one middle-aged woman could throw him into confused turmoil? He had to remind himself, he was the invader, she, the enemy. But he could not deal with this enemy like he had done the others. He couldn’t despatch her with a quick burst of machine gun fire. This battle of words and wits he found more difficult to cope with than any hand-to-hand combat.

‘Did you enjoy your dinner party, Sir,’ the cook asked amused.

Heinrich observed the look on his face. ‘Yes, thank you.’

‘And did you meet the Fraulein Fitzgerald?’

‘The Swan Princess,’ Heinrich mused.

‘The Swan Princess?’ echoed the boy.

‘Haven’t you had a musical education?’ the cook teased.

‘Yes,’ the boy indignantly replied.

‘Odette is the name of the princess in The Dying Swan,’ someone informed.

The boy frowned.

‘You know, the ballet?’

‘I know,’ the boy smiled. ‘Tch…’

‘Don’t even say that man’s name,’ Busch continued to tease.

‘What? Tchaikovsky?’

‘Aaghh,’ Busch groaned and they all began to laugh. ‘You’ve done it now.’

‘What is this fascination with Miss Fitzgerald?’ Heinrich asked when the noise had died down.

‘She’s considered an easy lay: the island bike everyone has ridden,’ Busch replied, his further attempt at humour whipping up loud guffaws.’

Fresh bread and butter suddenly appeared in front of Heinrich, along with a pot of jam. Slowly and quietly he ate his breakfast, and when he’d finished, and was about to leave the kitchen, he asked for fresh coffee in his room.

The map Heinrich studied had been given to him by the Major. It was a map of the island which had been sectioned off in four sectors: north, south, east and west. Heinrich was attached to battle headquarters in the south sector. As he tried to accustom himself with the geography of the island a knock came at his door. The young boy walked in to stand with a tray in his hands.

‘Put it over there,’ Heinrich said pointing, without looking at the boy. The boy put the tray down, but still stood waiting. ‘That will be all,’ Heinrich said, now looking at him.

‘I’d like to talk with you, Sir,’ the boy stammered.

Heinrich put down the map. ‘What about?’

‘It’s personal, Sir.’

‘Is that lot down there bothering you?’ Heinrich asked, now looking closely at the boy whose physique had not reached the proportions of remotely being considered a man. His limbs still looked gangly. His manner awkward: unsure. 

‘No, Sir, I can handle them.’

Heinrich looked at his watch. ‘Well, Steiner, I haven’t got all day.’

‘It’s a medical problem, Sir.’

‘Then see a doctor.’

Tears began to fill the boy’s grey eyes as Heinrich looked at him. ‘Sit down,’ he said offering him a cigarette. ‘What is it?’

The boy began to cry as he brushed his blond hair from his eyes. Heinrich had seen older, more experienced men cry, and the sight of someone crying, male, female, child, always tore at his insides. ‘How old are you?’ he asked.

‘Seventeen, Sir,’ came the boy’s reply.

Heinrich remembered himself at that age and came to the conclusion the boy was too young to be in uniform. ‘Unless you tell me what it is that’s bothering you, I won’t be able to help,’ he said.

‘I went with a woman, Sir.’

‘We all do that at some time or other,’ Heinrich smiled.

‘I’d never been with a woman before.’

‘You were saving yourself for your girlfriend, is that it?’ Heinrich asked, wishing the boy would get to the point, and quickly, as he had duties to perform.

‘It was Fraulein Fitzgerald. A few weeks ago.’

‘Why are you telling me?’ Heinrich asked irritated. ‘You were not her first, and you will certainly not be her last.’

‘I don’t want to be sent to the Russian Front, Sir,’ the boy suddenly cried. ‘I’ve heard of the terrible conditions out there. I don’t want to go.’

‘Have you been given orders?’ Heinrich asked, wondering what the hierarchy were thinking about sending someone so young and inexperienced into a hell he would definitely not come out of.

‘No, Sir.’ He paused. ‘I’ve got something wrong with me. I think I’ve got syphilis.’

‘And what makes you think you’ve got syphilis?’ Heinrich asked amazed.

‘My dick is swollen and sore, Sir. I’ve got blood and green pus oozing out of it, and I get this terrible pain in my groin when I take a piss. It’s like pissing glass.’

‘Sounds like gonorrhoea to me,’ Heinrich said.

‘Will I die, Sir?’ the boy cried. ‘They’ll send me away, won’t they, Sir.’

Heinrich momentarily wondered if the boy was more frightened of having a venereal disease, or being sent off to the Russian Front. ‘What have the men been telling you?’ he asked.

‘They said if I saw a medical officer he would immediately inform my commanding officer who would send me to the Front.’

Heinrich didn’t know how to deal with this. He didn’t want the boy’s death on his conscience, but he knew the hierarchy sent men off to the Front rather than give them medical treatment, which was often in short supply. They considered a bullet to be the more effective cure, rather than prescribing sulphonamide tablets. And the boy had been too upset to even smoke the cigarette Heinrich had given him, so Heinrich took it from the boy’s hand to put it out.

‘Listen to me. How many women have you been with?’ Heinrich asked.

‘Only one. Odette Fitzgerald.’

Heinrich looked questioningly at the boy for a while.

‘That the God-honest truth, Sir,’ Steiner remarked seeing the look of disbelief on Heinrich’s face.

‘What are your duties today?’ Heinrich asked.

‘I’m driving for Military Command, Sir.’

‘Have you any free time?’

‘Yes, Sir. Noon until fourteen hundred hours. They take long lunches, so I have to hang around.’

‘Come and pick me up here, at noon. Don’t forget.’

‘I won’t, Sir.

‘Dismissed.’

Promptly at noon the boy picked Heinrich up in a staff car and they drove towards the Fitzgerald house in silence. As they stood at the front door Heinrich curtly told the boy to keep quiet and let him do all the talking. Marian answered the door. Even though it was just after mid-day she was still dressed in a pale pink, silk dressing gown, her face painted, and the bosoms still fighting to free themselves from the restriction of her undergarments. She smiled at Heinrich, and even though the colour of her hair seemed less garish in natural light, and the sallowness of her skin, less pronounced, he still found her unattractive and grotesque.

‘Do come in. What can I do for you?’ she asked, even though she seemed a little indignant at having her home invaded so early in the afternoon.

Heinrich and the boy walked in, but Heinrich began to seethe underneath his pleasant expression. He had noticed the antiques and paintings the night before, and realised then the room must be worth quite a bit of money. He now wondered if they had belonged to her before the invasion, or whether she had acquired them for services rendered. He had no time for hypocrisy.

‘Sit down.’ Marian said, showing Heinrich to a plush sofa. ‘Cigarette?’ she asked, opening a silver box she took from the coffee table.

‘No, thank you,’ Heinrich replied taking off his cap. Steiner was ordered to sit on a hard wooden chair by the door. Marian didn’t offer him a cigarette.

‘It’s a very delicate matter I have come to see you about,’ Heinrich said now finding himself thinking in English too. His mastery of the English language was good, but in just a few days he was beginning to fully appreciate how shrewd it could be. ‘Is your daughter about?’ he asked, finding this to be more subtle than asking a straight, ‘Where is your daughter?’

‘She’s out at the moment,’ Marian replied.

‘With whom?’ he asked, knowing this to be grammatically correct.

‘Is that any of your business?’

‘I think it may well be,’ Heinrich replied.

‘What do you want, Oberleutnant?’ Marian asked irritated.

‘See my young soldier over there?’ Heinrich began, looking over at him. Marian nodded. ‘He is seventeen years old and had never been with a woman before he came to this island. He happened to meet your daughter a few weeks ago and he now finds himself with a very messy problem indeed. If your daughter is out with an officer who also happens to acquire the same messy problem, then I think she will be in serious trouble, especially if the Oberst finds out. He doesn’t take too kindly to his men, particularly his officers, being at risk from irresponsible personal hygiene. If the chief medical officer gets to hear about it there will be a public outcry. All the brothels will be closed down, and even though liaisons between the inhabitants and the invading forces are strictly forbidden, anyone found collaborating in that sense will probably be given a prison sentence. Now, I don’t think any of us, English or German, want that, do we Marian?’

‘Are you saying my daughter has given this young man…?’

‘Quite definitely,’ Heinrich replied.

Marian snorted. ‘You’re making this up,’ she said. ‘My daughter is not like that.’

‘I have better things to do with my time,’ Heinrich snapped. ‘And as for your daughter, she has a reputation that would put a prostitute’s credibility in a much higher regard.’ He paused. ‘But if you are prepared to leave it indefinitely then it will be my duty to inform the authorities. I think we’re both old enough and wise enough to realise the infection is more serious for the woman than it is for the man.’

‘What do you want me to do?’ Marian asked indignantly. If the islanders found out it would be doubly humiliating for the both herself and her daughter.

‘First of all I want you to try and control that daughter of yours; stop her spreading it further. Secondly, get her to see a doctor. Thirdly, I want you to arrange and pay for my man here to receive private medication. We will then keep everything quiet and under our hats, as you English say.’

‘You will not let Max know?’

‘’The Oberst will learn nothing about it from me. I will keep the whole matter to myself. But I will check with your doctor to enquire if your daughter and my man here are free from infection.’

‘It sounds very much like blackmail to me,’ Marian said.

‘It’s your daughter’s reputation. The choice is yours,’ Heinrich said coldly.

Marian thought for a while. ‘I will give you the name and address of my private doctor. I will let him know your man will be calling upon him.’

‘Thank you, Marian. It makes sense to keep this quiet. And when the officer she is with brings her back home, just have a quiet word in his ear.’

Marian went to the bureau. She wrote out a name and address on a piece of paper and gave it to Heinrich. He put his cap on his head. ‘Good day,’ he said crisply and walked from the house to the car.

The boy looked at Heinrich in wonderment as he drove off and was speechless until they reached the billet. ‘Thank you, Sir,’ Steiner said.

‘You wouldn’t have lasted five minutes on the Russian Front,’ Heinrich said as he got out of the car. Then he put his hand into his pocket. ‘Do you know what these are?’ he asked as he put a few condoms down on the seat.