A Small Person Far Away (17 page)

“Excuse me,” she said.

She wove her way through the crowd, went into the bedroom and came out again, leaving the door ajar. On her way back she passed Max who had been rejoined by the blonde and several other people and she heard one of them say admiringly, “Really? To Athens? Tonight?” Konrad saw her and waved, and she was just wondering whether to fight her way through to him, when she heard herself being addressed in German and found Günther beside her.

“I must tell you,” he said. “I’ve read your father’s works.”

“Really?” She wondered what on earth was coming.

“Yes.” He gazed at her ardently over the half-empty jug of punch. “I think they’re—” He searched for the words. “Terribly relevant,” he managed at last, triumphantly.

“Do you?” His fresh face shone under the blond hair. He couldn’t be more than eighteen, she decided. “I’m so glad you liked them.”

He put down the jug, so as to concentrate better. “I think everyone should read them,” he said.

She was touched. “Did you like the poems?” she said.

“The poems? Oh yes, the poems too. But his political awareness at that time – that’s what I really find incredible.”

“Well, it was rather forced upon him,” said Anna. “By circumstances. His real loves were the theatre and travel—” but he was not listening. In his excitement he had advanced upon her and she found herself wedged in between him and the table holding the jug.

“Terrible mistakes have been made,” cried Günther. “Our parents made them, to Germany’s shame, and it is up to my generation to put them right.” He brought his hand down sharply on the table and the jug trembled.

She looked for a way of escape but there was none.

“How?” she asked. If my call comes through now, she thought, I’ll have to dive through under the table.

“Very simple,” said Günther confidentially. “We shall discuss. My comrades and I discuss everything.”

“Do you?”

He nodded and smiled. “Every Tuesday. Yesterday we discussed the Nazi ethic, and next week we shall discuss the persecution of the Jews.”

“Really,” she said. “On Tuesday.”

He beamed at her. “Would you like to come?”

At that moment, to her relief, she saw Hildy Goldblatt, only a little way behind him, gazing round the room. She caught her eye and waved, and Hildy waved back and moved towards her.

“Excuse me,” she said, as Hildy reached them, and he stepped aside reluctantly.

“My dear,” said Hildy after a brief nod at him, “isn’t this dreadful? I have seen some food on a table next door. Let’s go and talk quietly in there.”

Anna followed her, making sure that all doors remained open so that she could hear the telephone, and they sat down near the depleted buffet.

“Well then,” said Hildy, tucking into some bread and sausage, “your Mama is quite better. I told you everything would be all right. But your husband must be worried about you: the Suez business now as well as Hungary. When are you going home?”

She looked at Hildy, her frizzy hair sticking out untidily from her clever, affectionate face, and wondered how much she had guessed.

“I don’t know,” she said carefully. “I’m waiting for a call from him now.”

Hildy nodded and chewed.

“I want to go home,” said Anna. “Only Max has to leave tonight, and I’m not sure…”

“If your Mama can manage without both of you.”

“Yes.”

“Yes,” Hildy polished off the sausage with one bite. “I can’t stay long,” she said. “My Erwin is not well – something with his stomach. In any case, one should never give advice. But if it’s any use—” She hesitated. “It’s only what I think,” she said. “But I think that Konrad… will do what needs to be done. I think – I think one can trust him. You understand what I mean?”

“Yes,” said Anna.

“He is a kind man. And anyway,” said Hildy, “you should be home with your husband now. I know we have had a lot of frights and always, at the last minute, the politicians draw back, but at such times it is not good for people to be apart.” She heaved herself out of the chair. “I really must go. My poor Erwin. He has vomited, you know, and that is something which, for him, is not at all normal.”

As they entered the other room, the party appeared to have quietened down. A number of guests must have left, and the rest were sitting rather than standing, some of them on the floor, and talking in undertones.

“Always the same faces,” said Hildy. “What can they find to talk about?”

Konrad hurried towards them. “Are you going, Hildy? We ought to go as well, to get Max to the airport.”

“But I’m still waiting for my call from Richard,” said Anna, and at that moment the telephone rang. She cried, “That’ll be him,” embraced Hildy quickly, and ran to the bedroom. Someone had closed the door again. She threw it open and found herself looking straight at a girl with her dress unzipped and pulled halfway down off her shoulders. Immediately behind her, a man with a handlebar moustache was making a great play of adjusting his tie over his unbuttoned shirt. The telephone was still ringing.

“Excuse me,” she said, edging past both of them, and answered it.

At first there seemed to be no one there, then there was a buzzing sound and an unidentifiable voice saying something a long way off.

The man and the girl – her dress now pulled up again – were watching her uncertainly.

“Hullo?” she said. “Hullo?”

The voice faded, but the buzzing continued.

“Hullo,” she said more loudly. “Hullo. Hullo. Hullo.”

Nothing happened, but the handlebar moustache suddenly appeared very close to her face, exuding alcoholic fumes.

“Just-look-ing-for-her-hand-bag,” its owner explained, pronouncing each syllable with great care and lifting up one of the coats to show what he meant.

She nodded impatiently and waved him away.

“Hullo?” she shouted into the telephone. “Hullo? Richard, is that you?”

Somewhere infinitely far away, she heard Richard’s voice. “Hullo, love. Are you all right?” and at once all her anxieties and tensions melted away.

“Yes,” she shouted. “Are you?”

He said something she could not catch, and she shouted, “Mama is out of danger.”

Richard’s voice suddenly came through loud and clear.

“What?” he said.

“Mama is out of danger. She’s going to be all right.”

“Oh, I’m glad.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the girl self-consciously straightening her hair and leaving the room, followed by the man. Thank God, she thought.

“Richard, it’s lovely to hear you.”

“And you. When are you coming home?”

“Well, what do you think? What do you think about this Suez business?”

“It’s difficult to—” The buzzing began again and drowned the rest of his words.

“I can’t hear you,” she cried.

He repeated whatever he had said – she could tell he must be shouting – but all she could catch were the words “if possible”.

“Do you want me to come home? Richard? Would you like me to come straight away?” She was shouting at the top of her voice.

There was a little click. The buzzing stopped, and a German operator said loudly and clearly, “
Charlottenburg
exchange. Can I help you?”

“You cut me off!” she shouted. “I was talking to London and you cut me off. Please reconnect me at once.”

“I’m sorry,” said the voice. “There is a three hour delay to London and we are accepting no more calls.”

“But I was talking to them. I was talking to them, and you cut me off in the middle.”

“I’m sorry, but there is nothing I can do.”

“Please!” cried Anna. “I’ve waited all day for this call. It’s really important.”

But of course it was no use.

After she had put down the receiver, she stayed sitting among the coats for a moment, fighting an overwhelming urge to break something, to be sick, to walk straight out and catch the next plane to London. Then she stood up and went back to the party.

“All right?” said Konrad. He was waiting for her with Max’s briefcase in his hand. “Come on, Max,” he called before she could answer. “We really must go.”

Max was having some difficulty in disentangling the blonde who appeared to be offering to come to Athens with him. Behind him, someone had rolled back the carpet and a number of people, mostly middle-aged, were dancing to the radio.

“Coming,” said Max, managing to ditch the blonde at last. Ken handed them their coats and they hurried towards the door. “So sorry you have to leave… regards to your Mama…” Teeth bared in smiles, handshakes,
auf Wiedersehens
, and then they were outside in the dark, and Konrad was driving very fast towards Tempelhof.

“Did you get Richard?” asked Max, turning back in his seat, while shadows of trees and lamp posts raced across them.

She shook her head. “I couldn’t hear him, and then we were cut off.” If I’m not careful, she thought, I’m going to weep all over the car.

He made a face. “Don’t worry. Any sign of trouble and you go straight home. All right?”

“All right.”

Konrad was leaning forward over the steering wheel, and the car was tearing along through the night. “I hope we’ll make it,” he said without taking his eyes off the road.

Max glanced at his watch. “Christ,” he said. “I didn’t know it was so late.” He began to drum with his fingers and stare tensely into the darkness ahead.

She sat in the back, her coat wrapped round her for warmth, feeling alone. Her chin tucked into her collar, her hands thrust deep into her pockets, she tried to think of nothing. Then she felt something under her fingers, something thin and rustly – a piece of paper. She pulled it out and, by holding it very close to her eyes, could just distinguish the word “Heals” printed across the top. It must be the bill for the dining-room rug.

It seemed like something from another world, from the infinitely distant past which had gone and would never come again. She clutched it in her cold hand and suddenly felt desperate. I’ve got no business to be here, she thought, surrounded by Russians when there might be a war. I don’t belong here. I should be home with Richard. Suppose I never get home? Suppose I never see him again? She stared at the dark, unfamiliar landscape racing past the window and thought in terror, I might be here for ever.

At last there were lights. The car swerved and braked.

“See you in London, little man,” said Max and scrambled out before it had properly stopped.

She watched him run to the airport entrance, his shadow leaping wildly beside him. There was a dazzle of light as he opened the door, and then he was gone.

“I think he’ll just catch it,” said Konrad.

They waited in case he didn’t and wanted to come back, but nothing happened. The door remained closed. After what seemed like a long time, Anna climbed into the front seat and they drove slowly back to the centre of town. It was one o’clock in the morning and very cold.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t speak to Richard,” said Konrad after a few kilometres.

She was too depressed to do anything but nod. It suddenly seemed a familiar feeling. Of course, she thought. All those times in Putney when Max had gone back to the Air Force or to Cambridge. This was how she had felt then. It did not seem so very long ago. Back with Mama, she thought. Trapped. She could almost sense the Russians all around.

“I entirely agree with Max, you know,” said Konrad. “At the first hint of trouble, you get on a plane to London.”

She could see his face, greenish-grey in the glimmer from the dashboard. Behind it, indistinct dark shapes fled through his reflection in the glass.

“I wish—” she said.

“That you were at home with Richard instead of driving round Berlin in the early hours of the morning.”

“Not just that. I wish Mama lived in a house. I wish she liked cooking and made large meals which nobody could eat, and fussed about people’s appetites and the cleaning.” For a moment she could almost persuade herself that it was possible.

“Where?” said Konrad.

“Somewhere.” She knew it was nonsense. “Not in Berlin.”

They were off the main road now, into lamplit side streets – the beginning of the suburbs.

“She’s never been keen on domesticity,” said Konrad. He added loyally, “Thank God.”

“Well, if she could just take life as it comes. Make the most of what there is, even if it isn’t perfect. Rather than this awful romanticism, this rejection of everything that isn’t exactly as she’s dreamed it. After all, there are other ways of solving one’s problems than by committing suicide.”

His eyes left the road for a moment and flickered towards her. “Aren’t you being rather hard on her?”

“I don’t think so. After all, I’ve lived with her a lot longer than you have.” The anger and frustrations of the day suddenly boiled over inside her. “You don’t know what it was like,” she said, and was surprised how loud her voice sounded.

They had reached a familiar arrangement of shops and houses. The car turned a corner, then another, and there was the street with her hotel.