Opposite Sides (29 page)

However, when he wanted
to travel this time, he was informed that the usual train service
had been drastically cut. The lack of coal supplies was the cause
and it was beginning to look as though things could get much worse.
When Hans went to the station to purchase his ticket, the man
behind the ticket booth appeared more serious than before and
solemnly shook his head.

“
Sorry, Sir,
but we cannot guarantee that you’ll be able to get back if you go.
I can sell you a ticket there but not a return one. You’ll have to
purchase that on the day of travel. Otherwise, I suggest you try
some other way of travel.”

“
Well, I’ll
take the risk, then.” The news had irritated him. “I’ve got to go
today. It may well be a month before I can get the chance
again.”

“As you wish, Sir. But
you’ve been fore-warned. One single?”

Hans paid for his ticket
and went on to the wooden platform. He put up his umbrella to keep
off the rain. There was the heavy smell of smoke and coal, together
with oil and everything that went with steam and trains. Within ten
minutes, the squealing black giant slowed, then stopped alongside
the platform hissing and blowing air like a snorting horse. Hans
opened a carriage door and stepped up into a narrow corridor. He
found a seat alone in one of the compartments and made himself
comfortable beside the window. After wiping the inside of the
window with the back of his hand, he slumped back to watch the
outside scene slide gently past and slide away from view as the
train jolted back into life and left the station behind. As the
train picked up speed, the funnel blew out several good puffs of
coal-black smoke which covered the outside of the carriage
window.

He began to think that
things may be better in Germany than in England now. The news of an
improving economy had filtered through the correspondence that had
come from Berlin. Last week, Paul von Hindenburg had been made
President. That was good news. It gave people hope that life would
improve in the new republic. Meanwhile, in England, an ugly mood
seemed to be brewing.

Erwin Hans Resmel put his
bag down beside him. He was standing on the front doorstep, ready
to push the doorbell button. He wondered whether Miss Turner was at
home. He felt quite nervous, standing there, waiting for the door
to be opened. Why he had decided to call in on her first, he didn’t
really know but as Miss Turner had kept in touch, he felt obliged
to let her know he would be in town. He was thinking how he would
tell her that Caroline and he were seriously making plans to marry.
Whether he would tell her that he had also been thinking of
returning to Germany was another thing.

He could hear the hurried
steps getting louder on the wooden hall floor as somebody came
closer to the front door. The door opened. It was Jan.

“
Hello Jan.
Is Miss Turner at home?” He hardly looked at the face the other
side of the door. He had recognised her by the way she strode along
the corridor.

“
Wait here.”
It was a cool reception. “I’ll fetch her.”

Jan pushed the door to
and he could hear her receding footsteps and finally the sound of
her voice as she called from well-inside the house.

“
Aunt, Hans
Resmel’s waiting at the front door.”

There was a muffled
answer followed by more hurried footsteps, but the tread was
lighter and more rapid than before, like the stutter of machine-gun
fire. Miss Turner opened the door.

“
Mister
Resmel.” She adjusted her glasses as if she needed to insect him
more closely. Hans made note of the fact that it was the same way
he had seen Jan adjust hers. “What are you doing here? We didn’t
think you’d be making the journey this weekend owing to the
disruption. It was not very wise of you to have travelled this
weekend.”

“
I need to
talk,” mumbled Hans.

He was still standing on
the doorstep, his travelling bag beside him where he had put it.
Miss Turner eyed him up and down from head to toe and back up to
his head where her inspection stopped. Suddenly he remembered that
he had forgotten to remove his hat. He took it off and stuffed the
soft cap into the pocket of his coat. The retired school mistress
invited him to step inside.

“
You’d better
come straight into the living room,” she said. “With the shortage
of coal, we can only afford to heat this one, together with the
kitchen.” She indicated to him that he should sit. “How are things
in London at the moment?”

“
Much the
same, Miss Turner. Nobody’s very happy about it. Everyone hopes it
won’t get any worse.”

“
We all hope
so.”

The room was warm even
though there was only a small fire burning. He could smell the
smoke from the coal as he made note of the black tarred bricks
below the mantelpiece. He removed his long warm coat, intending to
place it over his knees when Jan walked in and took it from
him.

“
I’ll hang it
up.”

He thought it strange
that neither Mary nor Ellen had answered the door or that his hat
and coat had been taken from him in the corridor.

“
Ellen still
here?” he asked.

“
No, I had to
let her go. Mary’s still with us but today she had asked for time
off. Jan, would you mind popping on the kettle.”

“
I’m not
bothered,” he commented patting his trousers so flat that they
seemed glued to his legs.

“
Now, what do
you want to see me about?”

Miss Turner placed
herself carefully on the chair opposite. He noticed she did not
move as freely and this time and that when she did sit she used
both her arms to lower her body gently into the soft seat of the
armchair.

He cleared his throat and
felt awkward.

“
Caroline
Grace and I want to marry.” He blurted it out as if he were in the
confessional box and became aware that his last word came out more
like a squeak than a word. He knew he had not seen the priest for
many weeks and was certain his sins were piling up so much that
Miss Turner could see into his wicked soul and see the guilt he was
feeling at this moment.

Miss Turner said nothing.
There was no indication that she saw any miserable sinner sitting
in her armchair. He watched in silence as she removed her glasses
and gave them a careful rubbing with a small frilly handkerchief
which she had extracted from one of her hidden pockets. It was as
though she were weighing up her thoughts and words very
carefully.

“
I see,” she
said finally. “Tell me, when did you both make this decision?” She
waited for him to answer, and when he did not, she continued, “I do
not think you have thought things through.” She screwed the dainty
handkerchief around between her fingers. Arthritic fingers he
noticed for the first time.

“
We’ve
thought about it for a long time. I’ve now got a job and we can
live on the wage I earn. Besides, I don’t think it’s anyone else’s
business what . . .”

“
Resmel, I
you are still too young. How old are you? Not quite twenty? And,
Caroline? Eighteen. Not yet nineteen? Not a marriageable age for
someone with your background. And, what does Mr Grace say to such a
marriage?”

“
I haven’t
spoken to him about it, yet.”

“
I suggest
that before you go much further with this affair, you have the
decency to speak with him. Caroline cannot marry without her
father’s consent. And neither can you without your uncle’s
approval. You would need a special licence to marry. That is the
law. So, when have you decided to speak with Mr Grace?”

“
I intend to
ask him any day.”

“
And your
uncle? Are you certain he will agree?”

“
I don’t care
what uncle thinks. He is not my father. It’s my life. I love
Caroline. We want to be together.”

“
You need
that permission or it cannot happen. What if your uncle or Mr Grace
do not give their permission?”

“
We’ll find a
way. It will happen. All I know is that we want to be
together!”

What Hans did not know,
was that Miss Turner had heard all this before; well before the war
and it had made no difference to what the parents thought then,
either. When two young people considered themselves in love, they
could not be talked out of making any decisions, no matter how rash
they seemed.

“
And where do
you intend to li . . . ?” Miss Turner broke off as the door was
opened by Jan carrying a tray with three cups of tea. She said
nothing as she bent over and set it on the low table. “Biscuits?”
her aunt asked.

“
I’m bringing
them.” She walked out of the room. Hans had hoped the interruption
would have removed his need to answer but Miss Turner repeated her
question. Nothing amiss with her memory.

“
We could
live in my place for a while until we were able to find somewhere
more suitable.”

“
In London?
Or are you thinking of taking her to Germany?”

“
It doesn’t
matter. As long as we’re together. Nothing else counts.”

“
A man needs
money to keep a wife.”

“
I’ve been
working hard for months . . . and I’ve been saving every spare
penny each week.”

“
That won’t
get you far. Pennies don’t go as far these days.”

“
Caroline’s
been saving hard, too.”

He was becoming angry
with Miss Turner. He could see no reason why he should have to
justify himself to her. What would a silly, old spinster like her
know anything about love and the passion he was feeling for
Caroline.

“
I know
Caroline’s father. You don’t. He would never agree to such a
marriage. I’m not sure Caroline would be prepared to go against her
father’s wishes. Any thoughts of marriage . . . ”

Before he could
retaliate, Jan entered the room with a plateful of home-made
biscuits.

“
Who’s
getting married?”

“
No-one,”
answered Miss Turner sending a glance over to Hans that could have
cut steel in half.

“
I am,” Hans
replied knowing that sooner or later Jan would hear about it,
anyway. Jan appeared stunned.

“
Who to?” Her
voice was shaky.

“
Caroline
Grace and me.”

“
C-caroline?
Our C-Caroline?” Jan could only stammer over her words. The shock
she felt was intense. “You can’t!”

Hans jumped to his feet
and shouted at her. Why did Jan Turner always say things to annoy
him?

“
I can. And I
will. Anyway, who are you to tell me otherwise?”

Before Jan could say
anything, she remembered her aunt had instructed her not to
retaliate and she stared at him in silence while inside she seethed
like a boiling kettle.

Miss Turner recognised
the signs of Hans becoming defensive and she did not want another
heated argument taking place in her living room. Hans stood face to
face with Miss Turner, who had also got out of her
chair.

“
You may have
control over her.” He pointed at Jan. “But you have no control over
me. I’m not a student of yours any more! I don’t live in your house
any more!”

His face was red and his
fists had become tightly clenched.

“
Young man,
you need to learn self-control. One day, that impetuous nature of
yours will land you in trouble and you will do something you will
regret.”

“
Like marry
Caroline Grace.” Jan said the words so quietly that only Hans
heard.

Hans looked directly at
Jan and spoke deliberately and slowly. He wanted to make sure she
had understood every single word.

“
I
am
going to marry her,
Jan.”

She snorted and threw her
head back with a defiant flick.

“
Then I’ll
never speak to you again. Or her.”

“
That won’t
worry me. I don’t think Caroline will be worried, also.”

“
Get
lost!”

“
You’re
horrible!”

“
So are
you!”

“
Stop this,
at once! Bickering like spoilt children!”

Miss Turner’s face had
turned white and her tight lips became stretched in anger like a
stretched rubber-band. Then he noticed the war photograph had been
replaced and had been hung back in its original
position.

“
What’s
that
doing back there?” He raised his arm almost like a salute and
defiantly pointed with his finger. “That picture! That terrible
picture! I cannot forgive!”

“
I put it
back. It’s where it belongs. ” Jan’s face was full of
defiance.

“
How could
you, you stupid goose?” But all Jan did was to shrug her shoulders
at him. He turned again towards Miss Turner. “How could you let her
do such a thing? You promised it would never be put up
again.”

Miss Turner’s mouth had
been continually opening and shutting like a goldfish. His
insulting language had shocked her but she was equally shocked to
see the picture back on the wall when she had believed it to still
be safely stored in the drawer. She looked steel-eyed at
Jan.