Little Man, What Now? (38 page)

At seven o’clock on the dot a pale-faced young man, with
badly-knotted tie, was stumbling around the premises of the municipal Infants’ Welfare. There were signs everywhere saying when the consultation times were. There definitely wasn’t one now.

He stood hesitating. Lammchen was waiting, but he mustn’t antagonise the nurses. What if they were still asleep? What should he do?

A lady went past him and down the stairs. She bore a passing resemblance to the Nothnagel lady he’d met at the baths: middle-aged, fat and Jewish.

‘She doesn’t look nice,’ thought Pinneberg. ‘I won’t ask her. Besides she’s not a nurse.’

The lady had gone down one set of stairs, then she stopped suddenly and puffed back up. She halted in front of Pinneberg and looked at him. ‘Now then, young father, what’s the matter?’ she asked, and smiled.

This was the right one after all: she’d smiled, and called him ‘young father’. Heavens, how nice she was! He suddenly realized that there were people who knew who he was and how he felt. This elderly Jewish welfare worker for instance. How many thousand fathers must have hung about on the stairs here! He found he could tell her everything, and she understood and simply nodded and said ‘Yes, yes!’ Then she opened the door and shouted: ‘Ella! Martha! Hanna!’

Heads appeared: ‘One of you go with this young father, will you? They’re worried.’

And the fat lady nodded to Pinneberg and said. ‘Goodbye. It probably isn’t anything serious!’ And then carried on down the stairs.

After a while a nurse appeared, who said: ‘Let’s go,’ and on the way he was able to describe it all over again, and the nurse didn’t seem to find it abnormal either, as she nodded and said, ‘It probably isn’t anything serious. We’ll soon know.’

It was good to have such an experienced person, and it turned
out they needn’t have worried about the ladder either. The nurse simply said: ‘Oho, up into the crow’s nest. After you please!’ and climbed up the ladder after him with her leather bag just like an old sea-dog. And then she and Lammchen conferred quietly together and looked at the Shrimp who of course now made not a sound. Once Lammchen called over to Pinneberg: ‘Sonny, don’t you want to be off? It’s high time.’

But he only growled ‘No, I’ll wait now. I may have to fetch something.’

They extracted the baby from his clothes, during which he still remained perfectly quiet, they took his temperature. No, he wasn’t feverish, just hot, they took him to the window and opened his mouth. He lay still, and suddenly the nurse said a word and Lammchen peered excitedly at something. And then she shouted in excitement: ‘Sonny, Sonny, come here quickly! Our Shrimp has got his first tooth!’

Pinneberg came. He looked into the naked little mouth with the pale-pink gums, and, yes, where Lammchen was pointing there was a little red swelling, with something in it as sharp as a splinter of glass.

‘Like a fishbone,’ thought Pinneberg. ‘A fishbone.’

But he didn’t say so, and the two women were looking so expectantly at him, that finally he said: ‘So that was why. Everything’s all right then. The first tooth.’

And after a while he asked reflectively: ‘How many does he have to get?’

‘Twenty,’ said the nurse.

‘So many!’ said Pinneberg. ‘And will he always howl like that?’ ‘It depends,’ said the nurse consolingly. ‘They don’t all cry over every tooth.’

‘Ah well,’ said Pinneberg. ‘Now we know.’ And suddenly he laughed. He was in a mood between happiness and crying, as though something great and important had happened. ‘Thank
you, nurse,’ he said, nodding to her. ‘Thank you. We haven’t a clue. Lammchen, do feed him quickly. He must be hungry. I must get to work double-quick. Cheers and thanks, nurse. Goodbye, Lammchen. Good luck, Shrimp.’

And he was off.

IT MAKES NO ODDS. THE INQUISITORS AND MISS FISCHER. ANOTHER STAY OF EXECUTION, PINNEBERG!

Double-quick he went, but it was of no avail. The tram didn’t come for ages. Then it came, and all the traffic lights were red, and in Pinneberg all the worries of the night disappeared and his joy that the Shrimp had a tooth and wasn’t ill evaporated. And the other fear came back, and spread, and was all-consuming: ‘What will Jänecke say to my coming in late?’

‘Twenty-seven minutes late—Pinneberg.’ The porter didn’t react as he noted it down. There were always some late-comers. Some overwhelmed him with pleas. This one was merely pale.

Pinneberg compared the time on his watch: ‘I make it only twenty-four.’

‘Twenty-seven,’ said the porter decisively. ‘It makes no odds anyway: twenty-seven or twenty-four.’

He was right there.

Jänecke wasn’t in the department. That was one mercy at least. The trouble wasn’t going to start up at once.

But it did. Up came Mr Kessler, Pinneberg’s colleague and Mandel’s most devoted employee, and said: ‘You’re to go to Mr Lehmann in the Personnel Office straight away.’

‘Yes,’ said Pinneberg. ‘All right.’ He felt the need to say something that would show Kessler that he wasn’t frightened (though he was), so he said: ‘There’ll be another stink. I was a bit late in.’

Kessler looked at Pinneberg and smirked, not openly, but his eyes said it all. He said not a word but just looked at him. Then he turned on his heel and marched off.

He went down to the ground floor, and crossed the courtyard. Miss Semmler, sallow and not-so-young, was there as always. She was standing at the half-open door of Mr Lehmann’s room. It was obvious what she was doing. She took one step towards Pinneberg and said: ‘Wait, Mr Pinneberg.’

And then she took a file, opened it, and took a step back to the door, reading the file of course.

Voices sounded from Mr Lehmann’s room. Pinneberg recognized the sharp, precise one: that was Mr Spannfuss. So it wasn’t just Mr Lehmann, there was Mr Spannfuss as well, and now another: Mr Jänecke’s ringing tones. There was a moment’s silence, then a young girl said something in a low voice. She seemed to be crying.

Pinneberg cast an angry look at the door and the Semmler woman, he cleared his throat and made a sign to her to shut the door. But she said ‘Shhh!’ quite shamelessly. It had brought colour to her cheeks; she had a little red flush, did Miss Semmler.

Mr Jänecke’s voice could be heard saying ‘So you admit, Miss Fischer, that you are having an affair with Mr Matzdorf?’

Sobs.

‘You must answer us,’ said Mr Jänecke, in a gently warning tone. ‘How can Mr Spannfuss form an opinion when you’re so obstinate and won’t confess to the truth?’ A pause. Then: ‘And Mr Lehmann doesn’t like it either.’

Miss Fischer sobbed.

‘So it’s true, isn’t it, Miss Fischer,’ Mr Jänecke asked patiently once again, ‘that you are having an affair with Mr Matzdorf?’

Sobs. Silence.

‘Oh come on! Come on!’ Mr Jänecke shouted suddenly. ‘Is this a sensible way to behave? We know everything, and it would
be greatly to your advantage if you simply confessed to your misdeeds.’ A short pause, and then Mr Jänecke began again. ‘So tell us, what on earth d’you think you were doing?’

Miss Fischer sobbed.

‘You must have thought something. As I understand it you were taken on here to sell stockings. Did you think you were hired to have affairs with the other employees?’

No reply.

‘And the consequences?’ piped up Mr Lehmann suddenly. ‘Didn’t you think of the consequences? You’re only just seventeen, Miss Fischer?’ Silence. Silence. Pinneberg took a step towards the door, Miss Semmler looked at him, cross, sallow, but triumphant.

‘The door!’ said Pinneberg furiously.

A female voice burst out from within, half sobbing, half screaming. ‘But it’s not an affair! I’m friendly with him, that’s all …’ the words petered out in crying.

‘You’re lying,’ Pinneberg heard Mr Spannfuss say. ‘You’re lying, Miss Fischer. It says in the letter that you were coming out of a hotel. Shall we inquire at the hotel?’

‘Mr Matzdorf has admitted everything!’ exclaimed Mr Lehmann.

‘Shut the door!’ Pinneberg repeated.

‘You don’t give the orders round here,’ responded Miss Semmler crossly.

The girl in the room cried out: ‘I have never met him at work.’

‘Oh come, come!’ said Spannfuss.

‘Certainly I haven’t! Mr Matzdorf works on the fourth floor and I work on the ground floor. We can’t meet.’

‘What about lunch-hour?’ squawked Mr Lehmann. ‘Lunchtime in the canteen?’

‘Not then either,’ said Miss Fischer hastily. ‘Certainly not. Mr Matzdorf’s lunch-hour is at a quite different time from mine.’

‘Ah,’ said Mr Jänecke. ‘Well, you certainly seem to know all
about that. And no doubt you wished things had been more conveniently arranged.’

‘What I do outside work is my own business!’ exclaimed the girl. She seemed to have stopped crying.

‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ said Mr Spannfuss earnestly. ‘Seriously wrong. Mandels feeds you and clothes you, Mandels provides the wherewithal of your very existence. It’s not unreasonable to expect that you should think of Mandels first in everything you do and don’t do.’

A long pause. ‘You meet in a hotel. You could be seen there by a customer. It would be embarrassing for the customer and for you, and injurious for the firm. You could—I have the right to be frank with you—you could get pregnant. According to the present laws we are obliged to carry on employing you. Very injurious to the firm. The salesman is saddled with maintenance, his salary won’t cover it, he’s worried so he doesn’t sell well. Again the firm suffers.’ His tone grew more emphatic: ‘What you have been doing is so against the interest of the firm of Mandels that we …’

Another long pause. Not a word from Miss Fischer. Then Mr Lehmann said quickly: ‘Because you have offended against the interest of the firm, we are entitled, under paragraph seven of the contract of employment, to dismiss you without notice. We are making use of this right. You are herewith summarily dismissed, Miss Fischer.’

Silence. Not a sound.

‘Go into the Personnel Office next door and you’ll get your papers and the rest of your salary.’

‘One moment!’ called Mr Jänecke, and added hurriedly: ‘In case you think we’re being unfair to you, Mr Matzdorf is of course being summarily dismissed as well.’

Miss Semmler was at her desk as a young girl came out of Mr Lehmann’s room, red-eyed, white-faced. She walked past Pinneberg. ‘I have to get my papers here,’ she said to Miss Semmler.

‘Go in,’ said Miss Semmler to Pinneberg.

And Pinneberg went in, with hammering heart. ‘Now it’s my turn!’ he thought.

But it wasn’t quite his turn yet. The gentlemen round the desk were acting as if he wasn’t there.

‘Does that position have to be filled again?’ asked Mr Lehmann.

‘We can only economize there up to a point,’ said Mr Spannfuss. ‘The others can cover now while business is slack. But if it livens up, we’ll put in a temporary. There are enough hanging about.’

‘Of course,’ said Mr Lehmann.

The three looked up, and looked at Pinneberg. He took two steps forward.

‘Now listen to me, Pinneberg,’ said Spannfuss, in a quite different tone. Gone was the serious fatherly concern; he was merely brutal. ‘Today you came in half an hour late again. I can’t imagine what you’re thinking of. I can only suppose you don’t care a damn about Mandels and you don’t mind if we know it. Well, young man, if that’s how you feel about us …!’ he made a sweeping gesture towards the door.

Pinneberg’s assumption had been that they would throw him out no matter what. But suddenly here was hope, and he said in a very low and dejected voice: ‘Please excuse me, Mr Spannfuss, my child was ill last night, and I went out to fetch a nurse …’

He looked helplessly at the three.

‘Your child,’ said Mr Spannfuss. ‘So this time your child was ill. Four weeks ago, or was it ten?, you were constantly taking time off because of your wife. I expect in two weeks your grandmother will die, and in a month your aunt will break a leg.’ He paused, then began again with renewed vigour: ‘You overestimate the interest that the firm takes in your private life. Mandels isn’t concerned with your private life at all. Please arrange to deal with your little
problems outside business hours.’

Another pause, then: ‘The firm makes your private life possible, sir! The firm comes first, second and third. After that you do what you like. We take on the burden of providing you with your daily bread. You’ve got to understand that. You live off us. You’re punctual enough collecting your pay at the end of the month.’

He smiled a little, and the other gentlemen smiled. Pinneberg knew it would be a good thing if he smiled too, but with the best will in the world, he couldn’t.

Mr Spannfuss wound up with the words: ‘Now, take careful note: the next time you’re late you’ll be thrown out on the street without warning. Then you’ll learn what it’s like on the dole. Along with all the others. We understand each other, don’t we, Mr Pinneberg?’

Pinneberg stared dumbly at him.

Mr Spannfuss smiled. ‘Your face may speak volumes, Mr Pinneberg, but I’d still like to hear the confirmation from your own lips: we do understand each other?’

‘Yes,’ said Pinneberg quietly.

‘Good, then you can go.’

Pinneberg went.

MRS MIA PINNEBERG AGAIN. THOSE ARE MY CASES! ARE THE POLICE COMING?

Lammchen was sitting in her little castle darning socks. The Shrimp was lying in his bed, asleep. She was feeling miserable. Sonny had been in such a bad way lately: confused, oppressed, flaring up at one moment, dumbly downcast the next. She’d wanted to give him a treat recently by serving him an egg with his fried potatoes, but when she brought it to the table he flew into a passion and asked if she took them for millionaires, and if it meant
nothing to her that he was worrying himself to death.

Afterwards he had moped for days, and spoken so gently to her, his whole being begged for forgiveness. He didn’t need to beg for forgiveness, they were one, nothing could come between them, a hasty word might cause unhappiness, but never endanger their marriage.

In the early days things had been very different. They were young, they were in love, there was a ray of light through everything, a gleaming vein of silver in the darkest mineshaft. Now everything was destroyed: mountains of grey rubble with here and there a gleam of light. Then more rubble. Then another gleam. They were still young, they still loved each other, more perhaps, now they were accustomed to each other. But there was a dark shadow over everything; had people like them any right to laugh? How could one really laugh in a world where captains of industry are allowed to line their own pockets and make hundreds of mistakes, whereas the little people who had always done their best were humiliated and squashed?