Little Man, What Now? (22 page)

‘Dammit,’ muttered the giant, as a lachrymose voice arose outside: ‘Holger, where are you, Holger?’

‘Quick, hide, she’s coming in!’ whispered Pinneberg.

Crash, bang, and the door opened. ‘Is Jachmann in here?’ Mrs Pinneberg put the light on. Two pairs of eyes looked rather anxiously around, but he wasn’t there. Doubtless he was hiding behind the other bed.

‘Where can he have got to this time? He sometimes rushes out onto the street just because he’s too hot … Oh!’

Pinneberg and Lammchen followed Mama’s glance in dismay. But it wasn’t Holger that she had discovered, but some banknotes,
lying loose on Lammchen’s red silk padded quilt.

‘Yes, Mama,’ said Lammchen, who was the calmer of the two. ‘We’ve just been talking it over. That’s the rent for the next few weeks. Please take it.’

Mrs Mia Pinneberg took the money. ‘Three hundred marks,’ she gasped. ‘Well, I’m glad you changed your minds. That’ll do for October and November, and then there’ll be a small amount for the gas and the electric light. We’ll work that out some other time. Well that’s that … thank you … good night.’ She had talked herself out of the door, anxiously guarding her treasure.

Jachmann’s beaming face emerged from behind the other bed. ‘What a woman!’ he said. ‘What a woman! Three hundred marks for October and November: she’s done very nicely thank you. Well, excuse me, kids, now I must go to her. First I’m very curious to see whether she mentions the money. And second she’ll be very worked up, so good night.’

And out he went, too.

KESSLER REVEALS ALL AND GETS A BOX ON THE EARS. THE PINNEBERGS STILL HAVE TO MOVE OUT

It was morning, a dreary grey November morning, all was still very quiet at Mandels. Pinneberg had just arrived. He was the first, or almost the first, in the department. Someone seemed to be doing something round the back.

Pinneberg was out of sorts, oppressed, it must be the weather. He took a roll of Melton cloth and began measuring it. Rumm—rumm—rumm.

The person round the back rustled nearer, not directly towards him as Heilbutt would do, but stopping here and there. It must be Kessler, and Kessler must have something to say to him; one of his eternal pinpricks, his cowardly little attacks. Unfortunately, they
annoyed Pinneberg afresh every time: he got really wild, so angry he would have liked to wallop Kessler. It had been going on ever since he had made the remark about him having been brought in by Lehmann.

‘Morning,’ said Kessler.

‘Morning,’ said Pinneberg, without looking up.

‘Still very dark today,’ said Kessler.

Pinneberg did not reply. Rumm, rumm, went the cloth.

‘You’re keen to earn your beer,’ said Kessler, with a rather embarrassed smile.

‘I don’t drink beer,’ replied Pinneberg.

Kessler seemed to be working himself up for something, or perhaps simply searching for a way to begin. Pinneberg was very nervous; he knew the man had some object in mind, and that it couldn’t be friendly.

Kessler asked: ‘You live in Spenerstrasse, don’t you Pinneberg?’

‘How do you know that?’

‘I heard you did.’

‘Oh yes.’

‘Because I live in Paulstrasse. It’s funny that we’ve never met on the tram.’

‘The fellow’s got something on his mind,’ thought Pinneberg. ‘I just wish he’d come out with it! What a swine.’

‘And you’re married,’ said Kessler. ‘It’s not easy being married these days. D’you have children?’

‘I dunno,’ cried Pinneberg furiously. ‘Why don’t you find something to do instead of just standing around here?’

‘You don’t know! That’s a good one,’ said Kessler. Now he had the bit between his teeth and was openly insolent. ‘Might be true though. Pretty good when a father of a family says he doesn’t know.’

‘Now you listen, Mr Kessler …!’ began Pinneberg, raising the
measuring ruler slightly.

‘Why?’ asked Kessler. ‘It was you who said it. Or didn’t you say it? As long as Mrs Mia is in the know too …’

‘What?’ shouted Pinneberg. The few people who had since come in stared in their direction. ‘What?’ he asked, involuntarily lowering his voice. ‘What d’you want with me? I’ll give you a punch on the jaw, you stupid fool, always picking a quarrel.’

‘So that’s the discreet introduction to high-class company?’ sneered Kessler. ‘You’d better not come on so strong with me, man. I’d like to see what Mr Jänecke would say if I showed him the advertisement. A man who allows his wife to put in such dirty adverts. Filthy …’

Pinneberg was no sportsman. He couldn’t get over the counter in one bound, he had to go round it to grab the man, all the way round.

‘… a disgrace to our profession! Don’t start a fight in here.’

But Pinneberg was now on top of him. He was, as stated, no sportsman; he tried to box Kessler’s ears, the other hit back, and now they grappled at each other ineptly.

‘You just wait, you bastard,’ panted Pinneberg.

The people came running from the other counters.

‘You can’t do that!’

‘If Jänecke sees you, you’ll both be out on your ears.’

‘All we need now is for the customers to come in.’

Suddenly, Pinneberg felt himself grabbed from behind, held fast, and pulled off his opponent.

‘Let me go!’ he shouted. ‘I must get at that …’

But it was Heilbutt, and Heilbutt said quite coolly: ‘Don’t be silly, Pinneberg. I’m much stronger than you are, and I’m not letting you go.’

A little way off Kessler was already straightening his tie. He wasn’t particularly agitated. If you’re a born stirrer, you get quite a few clips round the ear in life. ‘I’d like to know why he’s getting
so excited?’ he remarked to the onlookers. ‘When he lets his old woman advertise openly in the newspaper!’

‘Heilbutt!’ begged Pinneberg, straining at his chains.

But Heilbutt had no intention of letting him go.

He said: ‘Come on, out with it, Kessler! What sort of an advert is it? Show it here!’

‘You can’t order me about,’ declared Kessler. ‘You’re no better than me even if you do call yourself Senior Salesman.’

But now a general murmur of annoyance arose: ‘Come on, out with it, mate.’

‘You can’t go back on it now.’

‘All right then, I’ll read it,’ said Kessler, and unfolded the newspaper. ‘But it’s embarrassing.’

He hesitated again, to raise the tension.

‘Come on, man.’

‘He’s always got to be stirring.’

Kessler said: ‘It’s in the small ads. I’m surprised the police don’t follow it up. It can’t go on much longer.’

‘Just read, will you!’

Kessler read. He did it very nicely. He must have been rehearsing that morning: ‘Unlucky in love? I can introduce you to a charming circle of uninhibited ladies. Satisfaction guaranteed. Mrs Mia Pinneberg, Spenerstrasse 92-II.’

Kessler relished his triumph. ‘Satisfaction guaranteed. Now what do you say?’ And he explained ‘I’d never have breathed a word about it, but he told me explicitly that he lived in Spenerstrasse.’

‘Well, that’s a turn-up for the books!’

‘We could take a lesson from him.’

‘I didn’t …’ stammered Pinneberg, who had gone as white as a sheet.

‘Give me the page,’ said Heilbutt suddenly, sounding as angry as it was possible for him to be angry. ‘Where? Ah, here … Mrs Mia
Pinneberg … Your wife isn’t called Mia, is she, Pinneberg? … Your wife’s called …?’

‘Emma,’ said Pinneberg in a flat voice.

‘Well that’s another box on the ears for you, Kessler,’ said Heilbutt. ‘It wasn’t Pinneberg’s wife for a start. I also think it was in very bad taste …’

‘Cut it out, will you?’ protested Kessler. ‘That’s something I just can’t stand.’

‘It’s also perfectly clear,’ Heilbutt continued, ‘that our colleague Pinneberg here knew nothing whatever about it. You live with a relation, don’t you?’

‘Yes,’ whispered Pinneberg.

‘There you are,’ said Heilbutt. ‘I couldn’t answer for all my relations. Nothing you can do about it.’

‘Well you can be grateful to me all the same,’ said Kessler, striving to regain his cool in the face of a discomfiting atmosphere of disapproval. ‘I pointed this disgusting business out to you. Though it’s funny you didn’t notice it …’

‘That’s enough,’ declared Heilbutt, to general assent. ‘And now, gentlemen, I think we ought to be doing something. Mr Jänecke could come along at any moment. And I think the decent thing would be not to talk about this any more. Not the way for colleagues to behave, is it?

They nodded and withdrew.

‘Now listen to me, Kessler,’ said Heilbutt, taking him by the shoulder. The two of them disappeared behind the rack with the ulsters. They talked a long while, mostly in whispers with occasional lively protestations from Kessler, but finally he went very quiet.

‘Well, that’s that,’ said Heilbutt returning to Pinneberg. ‘He won’t give you any more trouble. But I’m sorry I was a bit familiar with you just now. We’re friends enough to do that though, aren’t we?’

‘If it’s all right by you, it’s all right by me.’

‘Good. Kessler will leave you in peace. I’ve brought him down a peg.’

‘I’m very grateful to you, Heilbutt,’ said Pinneberg, ‘It’s all been such a shock, I feel stunned.’

‘It’s your mother, isn’t it?’ asked Heilbutt.

‘Yes,’ said Pinneberg. ‘I never thought very much of her. But not something like that … no.’

‘I don’t see it quite that way,’ said Heilbutt, ‘It doesn’t look so terrible to me.’

‘But in any case I’m moving out.’

‘I would do that. And as quickly as possible. If only because the others know about it now. It’s quite possible they’d call, just out of curiosity.’

Pinneberg winced. ‘God forbid. When I’m away I don’t know what goes on. They play cards as well. I always thought it was something to do with the cards, I was so worried sometimes. Well now, Lammchen will have to find us somewhere to live, and quickly.’

LAMMCHEN SEARCHES, NO ONE WANTS CHILDREN AND SHE FAINTS, BUT IT PAYS OFF

Lammchen was looking for somewhere to live. It involved going up a lot of stairs, and that wasn’t as easy as it had been six months before. Then a staircase was as easy as anything to go up and down. You could dance to the top, no trouble at all, hop, step, hop … But now she frequently had to stop on a landing; her forehead was covered in sweat, she wiped that off, but then those pains in the small of her back started. She could put up with the pain itself if only it wasn’t doing any harm to the Shrimp!

She walked, climbed stairs, inquired, and went on. A flat must
turn up soon, it was more than she could stand seeing her young man turning white and trembling whenever Mrs Mia Pinneberg came into the room. She had made him promise to keep quiet to his mother about the whole thing, they were just going to leave secretly; one morning they would simply be gone. But he was beginning to find it such a strain. He would so like to have made a scene, to storm about. She couldn’t for her part understand why, but she understood very well that her young man was like that …

Anyone else would have smelled a rat long ago, but in this respect Mrs Mia Pinneberg was touchingly naïve. She breezed into the room where they were sitting, crying gaily: ‘Whatever are you doing, sitting here like chickens in the rain? You’re supposed to be young! When I was your age …’

‘Yes, Mama,’ said Lammchen.

‘Cheer up! Cheer up! Life’s bad enough already, you can’t let it get you down. I wanted to ask if you’d help me with the washing-up, Emma? I’ve got a shameful pile of it lying there.’

‘Sorry, Mama, I’ve got to do some sewing,’ said Lammchen, who knew her husband would throw a tantrum if she helped.

‘Oh well, we’ll leave the washing-up for another day. You’ll feel more like it tomorrow. What’s all this sewing you’re doing? Just don’t injure your eyes. Sewing’s not worth it any more. You can get things cheaper and better ready-made.’

‘Yes, Mama,’ replied Lammchen meekly, and Mrs Pinneberg sailed off, having cheered the young people up a little.

But Lammchen didn’t help with the washing-up the next day either, she was out and about looking for somewhere to live, day after day. It was urgent; her young man was burning to leave.

Oh! those landladies! There was one sort who, when Lammchen inquired after the furnished room with the use of the kitchen, stared straight at her middle, saying: ‘Expecting, aren’t yer? Na, if we wanted kids bawling round the ‘ouse, we’d ‘ave our own. Then we could ‘ave a choir of ’em.’

And, bang! The door was shut.

And sometimes, when it was more or less settled and Lammchen was just thinking to herself, ‘Tomorrow morning Sonny is going to be able to wake up carefree’, Lammchen would say—because they didn’t want to be thrown out after two or three weeks—‘Oh, and we’re expecting a baby.’ Then the landlady’s face would drop, and she would say, ‘Oh no, dear, I’m very sorry, I like you very much, but my husband …’

On to the next one! Keep going, Lammchen, it’s a wide world and Berlin’s a big city. There must be some nice people, too. Surely it’s a blessing to be expecting a baby, this is the era of the child …

‘Oh, and we’re expecting a baby.’

‘Oh, that’s no big problem. Can’t do without them, can we? The only trouble is that children do a lot of damage in a flat, all that washing when the baby’s little, the steam, the vapour, and we do have such nice furniture. And then a child scratches the polish so. I’d be glad to have you, but … I’ll have to charge at least eighty marks instead of fifty. Well, let’s say seventy …’

‘No, thank you,’ said Lammchen, and went on.

Oh, but she did see some lovely places: bright, sunny, properly furnished rooms, with clean colourful curtains, and fresh bright wallpaper … and she thought so lovingly of the Shrimp.

Then some elderly woman would appear and look at the younger woman with a friendly eye when she whispered something to her about the expected baby—and indeed, for anyone with eyes in their head it was a pleasure to look at her. And then the elderly woman would say to her, glancing thoughtfully at the blue, very shabby coat: ‘But you know, I can’t really charge less than a hundred and twenty marks. The landlord gets eighty, and I only have my little pension, and I’ve got to live too.’