Forbidden Liaison: They lived and loved for the here and now (8 page)

Izzy was late again, much to the vexation of her parents, and it was also noted Heinrich had not slept in his bed the night before. He braced himself before walking into the kitchen knowing there would be the usual questions: male banter.

‘Well, well, well,’ Busch exclaimed. ‘You’ve finally arrived back at your billet.’

‘I was off duty, and I do not have to explain myself to you,’ Heinrich said as he sat down.

‘Were you at the whore-house?’ Busch asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Liar,’ Busch replied.

‘I beg your pardon?’ Heinrich asked, glaring at him for having the impertinence to call an officer, a liar.

‘Beg my pardon all you like, but you weren’t there. I was though,’ Busch replied.

The men guffawed.

‘You’re a married man with five kids,’ Heinrich retorted

‘Ditto,’ Busch replied grinning.  

‘I do not happen to have five children,’ Heinrich reminded.

‘Are you absolutely sure about that?’ Busch said winking.

The men laughed again.

‘I could court-martial you for insubordination,’ Heinrich retorted.

‘You could try, Sir, but look,’ he said showing Heinrich both his arms. ‘Not a stripe, a pip or even a squeak.’

Heinrich just sighed. ‘You know the Russian winter is about to start?’ he mused.

‘I know, Sir, that’s why I decided to get myself a decent fuck before they shipped me off. Forget all that propaganda shit, but men are coming back from the East saying things are not going as well as our leaders make out. So, I thought, where’s the harm; one last fuck before it was back to wanking.’ Busch said scratching his crotch. ‘I just hope I die with my dick in my hand,’ he added as he scratched his crotch again.

Heinrich looked at him. ‘Given you crabs, has she?’

‘Nah. They got out a magnifying glass to check us both.’

‘That was to find your dick, numb-skull,’ one of the men shouted back.

The men roared with laughter.

‘You know,’ Heinrich said, ‘this conversation is best left in a bar-room. It is not for the breakfast table. And it would cause great shock and distress to Mrs Wilfred if she happened to walk in on it.’

‘Suppose you’re right, Sir,’ Busch replied. ‘I’ve managed to get us some eggs this morning, Sir.’

‘And how do you intend to serve them up?’ Heinrich asked.

‘I could make a soufflé,’ Busch replied, sarcastically.

Heinrich ignored the cynicism. ‘You were once a chef,’ Heinrich commented.

‘Yes, before they shoved a Schmeisser in my hand and taught me how to kill.’

‘For Fatherland, for freedom, for fuck all,’ someone said standing to attention.

‘You could be shot for that,’ Heinrich warned.

‘Let them,’ was the man’s retort.

Heinrich sighed. That’s all he needed, mutiny in the ranks. He had enough to worry about, especially after picking up his mail first thing that morning and reading the contents of a telegram from home.   

Heinrich took himself off to do his morning duties immediately after finishing every morsel of the scrambled eggs and toast Busch had made. One of his duties that day was to carefully supervise then scrutinise the food tally rosters. He was down at the town’s slaughter-house making sure every animal slaughtered checked off with the farm it came from, the weight written down on the tally – allowing for a gram or two - its breed and eventually a vet’s chitty to say it was free from disease. He found it boring, but necessary, not only for the Germans, but for the islanders, too, as it maintained a standard. Only healthy meat - what little there was around - was sold in butchers shops, and every bit of the animal was used, even the bones, for soups and stews.

Izzy finished her chores and had taken the milk to the dairy. Under the front passenger seat of the lorry was hidden a basket of vegetables. As usual she went around to the back door of her aunt’s house to take them in. The door was locked and Margaret was nowhere to be seem. She lightly tapped on the window. No response. There was always a key hidden on top of the cistern in the outside lavatory, so Izzy stood on the lavatory seat to get to it. Unlocking the door she immediately put the vegetables under the sink where Margaret kept them out of view. As she put the basket on the table she shouted, ‘Aunt Margaret.’

The house appeared empty.

Izzy walked into the communal kitchen which was also clear of soldiers, before trying the door to her aunt’s living quarters. That door was locked, too. Curious as to what she might find, she walked up the stairs trying the other doors on the landing. They, too, were locked. Lastly, she came to the large bedroom at the front. It used to be the best and most expensive of the guest bedrooms. She thought it might be Heinrich’s room. She tried the door and to her surprise it had been left unlocked. She tentatively walked in, not quite closing the door behind her, and stood in the middle of the room which still had in a double bed and all the expensive Walnut furniture. It had not changed since before the invasion. Only now it was strewn with Heinrich’s belongings. She stepped towards the chest of drawers to find a picture of two small, blonde-haired little girls. This was definitely Heinrich’s room, and she was intruding on his privacy. But he had not told her about his children. She was the invader now, and she felt like one, seeing Heinrich’s personal things. She knew Heinrich the man, but this space was about Heinrich the person: the husband: the father: and she suddenly felt she knew nothing about him, even though they had been so very intimate the night before, and especially that morning. Her eyes now roamed to the small round table by the window. An unlined letter writing pad sat on it, opened, with a pencil resting by its side. Izzy looked down at it wondering if he was writing to his wife and children. But all she saw was a pencil drawing of a woman. She stood stock-still for a while looking at it until the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs startled her. As they came closer she ducked behind the door.    

‘Is that you Mrs Wilfred?’ She heard Heinrich ask. And pushing open the door, he said, ‘If you’ve not finished cleaning I will wait downstairs.’

Izzy stepped out from behind. ‘I’m sorry, I was looking for Aunt Margaret.’

Heinrich smiled. ‘What a lovely surprise,’ he said.

‘You have two daughters,’ Izzy suddenly remarked.

‘Yes.’

‘They are lovely little girls,’ Izzy added.

‘Yes, they are.’

Izzy sighed as she looked down. ‘About last night,’ she said.

‘What about last night?’

‘It was just…’

‘Just a fuck?’ Heinrich asked.

‘Yes. A moment of madness.’

‘And this morning, just oral sex?’

‘Yes,’ she said.

‘But you did like my tongue licking your cunt?’

Izzy winced at hearing that word, but when she looked at him she realised he was being deliberately insensitive: purposely trying to shock her.

‘What’s suddenly changed?’ he asked.

‘You have a small family. It doesn’t seem right.’

‘So, if I didn’t have children, it would be acceptable?’

‘We are both married. It’s…’

‘Why have you suddenly got cold feet if it’s just a fuck?’ Heinrich asked.

Izzy ignored his question and made for the door. Heinrich caught her arm.

‘Izzy, I come to see you because I like you. I like talking to you. I like being with you,’ he said letting go of her.

‘You don’t know me,’ she quickly retorted.

‘I know you’re as lonely as I am. And after last night, and this morning, I think we know each other very well,’ he replied.

‘That picture of me?’ she asked. ‘Why did you draw it?’

‘I did it from memory. Before the war I was an architect.’

‘That’s not what I asked.’

Heinrich walked towards the window to look out. ‘You get a good view of the coastline from up here,’ he said, side-stepping the question.

‘Heinrich?’

Heinrich turned. ‘We should never have started this, but we did, and now there’s no going back.’

‘Then we should end it,’ Izzy said. ‘Before we get too involved: before things get too complicated.’

Heinrich walked towards her. ‘Is that what you want?’

‘Yes, it is,’ she said, her eyes filling with tears. And she turned and ran from the room, down the stairs, crying. It was the last thing she wanted, though, but knew it had to be done. Nothing good could come of it, and they were both being selfish for thinking it didn’t matter.

She was about to go out the back to put the key back where she had found it when she heard Aunt Margaret behind her. ‘Why are you crying?’ Margaret asked. ‘Has he tried to…?’

‘No,’ Izzy snivelled. ‘It’s just my time of month, you know how weepy I get.’

Margaret didn’t believe her.

‘Look, I really have to go,’ and Izzy picked up the empty basket and ran out.

Margaret turned around. Heinrich had followed Izzy down the stairs and was now standing in the hallway.

‘What have you done to her? If you’ve done anything to her, I will…’ Margaret suddenly shut up.

‘You will what? Mrs Wilfred,’ Heinrich asked goading her. He didn’t like being suddenly cast aside. He couldn’t suddenly ignore the profoundly tender and passionate affection that would rise up in his belly every time he saw the woman he had only met a few weeks before. He felt attached to her now, and he couldn’t, so quickly, disregard the intimate acts they had indulged in.

Margaret stared at him. She felt so helpless. ‘You’ve been trouble since the day you arrived,’ she added. Not only had she accused him of abusing her niece, to add insult to injury, she also inferred he was a trouble maker, yet he appeared so calm.

‘I am sorry you feel that way,’ Heinrich responded. ‘But I will trouble you no longer.’

The following morning Heinrich left the island by the first boat before taking the railroad through France, into Germany. It took him the whole day to reach home, having to change trains a couple of times. He gave his men no details, just told them it was on compassionate grounds: that was all: it wasn’t their business. Only the Major and the Oberst knew why he had to leave so quickly; it was they who had given him the telegram when he had called in at headquarters with the meat tally papers.

The mood Heinrich was in as he sat on the train was a mixture of eagerness at seeing his children again; sorrow at the news he’d been given the day before; and a keen-ness to see his parents, even though he knew they would be heartbroken. But he felt apprehensive at the thought of having to see a wife who had rejected him.  Why couldn’t she see him, the person, not the unsightly mess parts of his body had been reduced to: he couldn’t face his wife after Izzy, so he decided to go to his parent’s home; they would give him a bed for night, they would never spurn him. He remembered that first night at home with Anna after being released from the hospital after a lengthy stay. Anna and the children had visited him, naturally, and it had been explained to Anna the extent of his injury and how lucky he was not to have lost the limb. That first night at home he had caught a glimpse of a look he could only describe as disgust, on his wife’s face. She began to shrink away from him; withdraw from the reality of what war can bring: retreat from a relationship that had once been sound, to a place where Anna had physically flinched when he had touched her for the first time in almost a year. And when she ran from the bedroom unable to hide her tears, Heinrich began to feel like the bogey-man who lived under the bed, the pervert every child was warned about, the hermit who was so ugly he had to be admonished forever to live a solitary life in a forest, right away from other people. Most of all, he now felt how it was to be different, which made him think about what he was fighting for, what other men were fighting for, and why men were laying down their lives because the powers that be only wanted perfect beings to bring about their vision of a master race. He wasn’t an ugly man, in fact most women thought he was most handsome. Izzy had been attracted by his good looks, and he to her loveliness. She hadn’t rebuffed him when she saw his body for the first time. But then he began to think it was all about sex: nothing more. But Izzy had seen the gift, wrapped and unwrapped. She’d been offered the box and she had briefly looked inside to like the gift presented, and Heinrich took great solace in that fact. His doubt and uncertainty had momentarily vanished, and for those few hours Izzy and he were together, he felt like a man again, not a freak.

It was late when he arrived at the shop, which was closed. He rang the bell and waited until he saw his father enter from the back. Heinrich gave him a broad smile and a quick wave of the hand. His father unlocked the door. His eyes were red and he looked a lot older than his sixty seven years.

‘Heini, my son,’ his father breathed as his arms enveloped Heinrich in a protective hug. ‘You came. I’m so glad. Your Mama will be so pleased to see her baby.’

‘Papa,’ Heinrich replied hugging his father. ‘How is she? And how’s Gerde and the children?’

‘They’re upstairs. Come,’ he said, releasing his son, and as he locked the shop door behind him, Heinrich could hear the familiar sound of the ticking clocks and the smell of cabbage mixed with fresh baked bread.

Heinrich picked up his bags and walked up the stairs behind his father. As they entered the large living room, his mother shot up from her chair. ‘Heini, my little Heini,’ and she cried as she hugged him, she couldn’t stop.

Gerde and her four children sat silent on the sofa, all dabbing at their eyes. His brother, Mathias stood up, his two elder sisters remained sitting at the table with their three children around them. The place was full to bursting, like it used to be at Christmas time before the war. But the reason they were all there now, was Willi, Heinrich’s eldest brother, and first born. Heinrich walked over to the sofa. Gerde stood up and they immediately embraced, but Gerde stood sobbing into his shoulder for some time before he managed to calm her to kneel in front of her children to give them all a hug. The atmosphere in that room was thick and heavy with grief and distress. The short bursts of brief conversation that did puncture the sorrow and mourning seemed unwanted; unnecessary. Perhaps some semblance of normality would come after the funeral: perhaps people could talk then. For now, though, exchange was redundant.

‘Is there anything I can do?’ Heinrich asked knowing little could be done to ease the pain of everyone in that room.

‘I’ve told Gerde and Mama, you and me will sought everything out; get the funeral arranged,’ Mathias suddenly said.

‘Fine,’ Heinrich nodded at his older brother.

‘You need feeding,’ his mother stated as she got up from her chair. ‘You’ve had a long journey.’ She had to keep herself busy, if she didn’t she would fall apart.

‘Leave it, Mama, I’m fine,’ Heinrich said kindly.

But his mother walked into the kitchen to make some coffee. Heinrich walked after her.

‘Mama, I’m fine, really,’ he said putting his arms around her again.

She turned to face her youngest son. ‘You don’t look fine,’ she said. ‘You came straight here, didn’t you? You’ve not been to see Anna and the girls, have you?’

‘No, Mama,’ Heinrich said.

‘And are you going to see them?’

‘Mama, can I stay here tonight? Find out how the land lies with Anna first.’

‘You will have to sleep with Mathias, share the bed.’

Heinrich smiled at the childhood memories of sharing a room with two older brothers.

‘Heini,’ his mother said. ‘Even if Anna doesn’t want you any more, those girls do, you are their father; nothing can change that.’

‘I know, Mama, I will go and see them tomorrow.’

‘Good,’ she said patting him on the cheek. ‘Do the right thing.’

Heinrich had done the right thing all his life. He had married a woman he’d made pregnant, and although he didn’t love her with a passion, he was very fond of her. He had studied architecture instead of fine art, because his father had said it was a more practical career. And he had accepted the fact his wife might recoil when he came back from the Eastern Front, injured and scarred. But he thought her initial repugnance of his unsightly injuries might wane with time. But time seemed to expand the repulsion she felt every time he undressed in front of her to get into bed. Physical contact was sparse, mechanical and emotionless, to the point he thought she just might puke. So he became accustomed to sleeping in a night-shirt which got in the way when he wanted to turn over or feel the need for her flesh to be pressed against his. In the end he resigned himself to the fact it would never work. His injuries could not be undone. The only thing that would change things was perhaps getting himself killed the next time he went into battle. Heinrich looked at his mother. She had lost her first born son. No: he had to stay alive. If anything happened to himself or Mathias it would kill her, and his father.

‘Mama,’ he smiled. ‘Remember when Willi married Gerde?’

‘Yes,’ his mother said. ‘She kept him waiting for an hour.’

‘And can you remember when they had their first child?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ she said, stopping what she was doing. ‘He was so proud to become a father.’

‘He and Gerde were so happy, and Willi, the younger, is turning into a fine young man,’ Heinrich remarked.   

‘Looks like his father, too,’ his mother smiled. Then she said, ‘Will you be going back to the Channel Islands?’

‘Yes, unless…’

‘Good, you should be safe there. Things cannot get any worse here, Heini, our country is being bombed now by day and by night,’ she interjected.

‘Mama, just be careful: no careless talk.’

‘I am always very careful, Heini. But I don’t want to lose my other sons to this war. And I wouldn’t like my daughters to lose their husbands either. I have twelve grandchildren, and if they survive the bombings it will be they, I hope, who will give this country its dignity back.’

‘That’s enough now, Mama,’ Heinrich said taking hold of his mother again. 

‘Yes, you are right Heini,’ she said smiling.

Heinrich gave a little laugh.

That night, after taking Gerde and the children home, Mathias and Heinrich, visited the local bar. Those they knew immediately offered their commiserations and they gratefully accepted them before sitting down at a table. A waitress came over and Mathias ordered two beers.

‘Have you anything to eat,’ he asked the young girl.

‘I could get you some bread and cheese,’ the waitress replied.

‘Two of those, then,’ Mathias replied. Then turning to look at Heinrich he grinned. ‘You lucky bastard.’

Heinrich frowned.

‘Sitting out the war in that cushy posting,’ Mathias smiled.

‘Where are you off to?’ Heinrich asked.

‘To where the cannon-fodder are mustered; somewhere around Stalingrad. They’re shoving every man and machine they can get their hands on at the Russians. I’ve heard it’s a nightmare, Heinrich. The 6
th
Army have been overrun, surrounded and cut off. Even supplies aren’t getting through, they’re having to drop everything by air. And orders from above are explicit; the 6
th
Army are not to break out, they are to hold.’ He looked down. ‘I will end up like Willi, wounded and freezing to death on a hospital train, only to die when I’m almost home.’ He wiped a solitary tear from his eye. ‘Let’s talk about something else.’

‘It is madness,’ Heinrich breathed. ‘Anyway,’ he said smiling, ‘I’ve often wondered why you never married,’ he mused.

‘Not met the right woman yet. Besides what’s the point now, I might be dead this time next week. And the moment you do get attached to a woman she will immediately kick you in the balls because when you’re posted they quickly find someone else.’ He paused. ‘What is it with you and Anna?’ Mathias asked.

‘I went out East in perfect condition. I came back damaged goods,’ Heinrich remarked cynically. ‘But, let’s not talk about that either.’

‘Doesn’t leave much else to talk about, there’s only the war, and women.’

‘We could reminisce,’ Heinrich offered.

‘A tell-tale, squirmy little sod, you were.’

‘You and Willi were constantly teasing me, you shouldn’t have treated me like you did.’

They both laughed as the bread and cheese came to the table.

‘Let’s get drunk,’ Mathias said. ‘I feel like getting blind drunk.’

‘If you piss the bed, Mama, will be furious,’ Heinrich reminded.

‘A whore-house?’

Heinrich shook his head.

‘What’s the matter with you, Heini?’

‘You are not to tempt me down such paths, remember. Mama always told you and Willi not to lead me astray.’

‘Don’t give me that, I know all about you and Irme. She broke me in too.’ Heinrich momentarily looked disgusted. ‘And don’t come over all innocent.’ Mathias retorted.

‘I’m not,’ Heinrich replied, ‘I’m just baulking at the knowledge you were there before me. I can’t believe we fucked the same woman.’

‘I think she got Willi, too, but he never said.’

‘Will she be coming to the funeral,’ Heinrich asked.     

‘I bloody well hope not, how embarrassing would that be. I’ll go around and see her tonight,’ Mathias nodded.

‘Will her husband be there?’

‘Hope not,’ Mathias laughed.

The following day after arranging the funeral with Mathias, Heinrich plucked up the courage to go and see his wife. His children he missed, but his wife was another matter altogether. He still had a key to their apartment but he knocked first before he let himself in. It was a Saturday, so the girls were not at school. Surprised, Anna physically jumped when she saw him standing in the small hallway of the apartment.

‘You should have let me know you were coming,’ she said.

‘Put you out, have I?’ Heinrich smiled. ‘Expecting someone else?’

‘No,’ she replied looking down.

‘You always were a bad liar, Anna,’ Heinrich said.

‘I have to go out shopping, you know the shops close at one.’

‘Where are the girls?’ Heinrich asking poking his head around their bedroom door.

‘My mother picked them up this morning,’ Anna sheepishly replied. ‘She’s giving then lunch.’

‘Well, I suggest you get yourself around there now, unless you want me to fetch them?’ Heinrich asked.

‘I’ll get them,’ Anna said, grabbing her coat from the stand in the hallway.

‘I’ll wait. And while you’re out tell that man of yours not to come around while I’m here. All I want is to see my children. Oh, and he forgot something. He’s left it over there on the dresser.’

Anna quickly picked up a fancy cigarette lighter and left the apartment while Heinrich made himself at home.