Christopher Priest - The Separation

‘[I could give the job to any one of a thousand, ten thousand, young people in Germany and each of them would be loyal to the great cause. But I am looking ahead to the days when the cease-fire will have taken permanent effect. Not long from now Britain and Germany will be instrumental in building a strong Europe, a coming together of the two dominant nations of the modern age. Imagine a joining of the cultures that between them have given the world Goethe and Shakespeare, Wagner and Gershwin. The challenges ahead will require the best young people from both countries to take up positions in the capital cities of their former enemies. I simply suggest that you might like to be among the first. What do you say?]’

If he had asked me what I thought, rather than what I was going to say, I could have told him the answer was no, then and there. But thinking and saying were not at all the same.

I found his company intimidating, intrusive and coarse, making me dissemble. All through these high-flown ideas he was chewing and swallowing the sticky cake, using a fingernail to dislodge the crumbs from between his front teeth. He also had a disconcerting habit of approaching and standing too close when he spoke. I could smell his breath and a scent of some kind of oil he used on his hair. He was not wearing the Luftwaffe uniform on this day, but was in dark-grey trousers and a beige shirt, with a tie clipped neatly to the front. He had a way of turning his head slightly to one side, then rolling his eyes back to gaze at me, which each time briefly gave him a frantic, somewhat deranged appearance.

‘[I think I really need time to consider, Herr Hess.]’

‘[Yes, indeed. I expected you to say that. What exactly do you need to think about and for how long?]’

‘[I love working for the Red Cross and I have not given a thought to leaving.]’

‘[All that sort of work will of course end when the war finishes. In the new Europe we will have no need of the Red Cross. One month from now you will be without a job. That must surely decide the matter for you.]’

‘[There would be other considerations, too.]’

‘[Name them.]’

‘[Well, for one thing, sir, I am married. My wife is expecting our first baby-]’

‘[She may come to Berlin too. Bring the child. There is no problem with that.]’

If until that moment a tiny particle of me might have been tempted, I knew that what he was proposing was out of the question. With the Nazi regime still in power, no matter what the ‘changes’ would turn out to be, Birgit would never return to Berlin. It crossed my mind to wonder if Hess might, perhaps, know something about Birgit’s background. After all, he claimed to have kept control of what he described as intelligence. It was a disquieting thought to have in the company of this powerful man.

Hess took a third cake, a rectangular piece of yellow sponge, coated with what looked like marzipan. He bit it in half, apparently disliked the taste and threw the second piece aside. It landed on the floor, close to the base of the large bookcase. He looked around for somewhere to dispose of the piece he already had in his mouth but finally spat it out on the carpet. He drained his coffee, swirling it noisily around his teeth, then refilled his cup.

‘[Whatever your objections,]’ Hess went on, ‘[you will come to Berlin shortly. All things will be possible soon. You need not decide until then. But let me tell you I have made up my mind. I think you are greatly suited to work with me.]’

‘[Thank you, Herr Deputy Führer.]’

I was hoping that would signal the end of the meeting, but Hess suddenly turned away from me and returned to the large window overlooking the stables.

‘[Ah!]’ he said expressively. ‘[We have important company. So soon. They were not due to arrive for another hour or so. Your Royal Air Force is reliable in some matters, I think.]’

I too looked through the window and in a moment saw what Hess was talking about. A short height above the pine forest, about half a mile away towards the west, a four-engined flying-boat, painted white all over, was passing right to left from our point of view. It was so low that for much of the time it was out of sight behind some of the hills in the near distance.

‘[I can’t see any markings,]’ I said. ‘[Why do you say it is the RAF?]’

‘[We should go down to the lake to be a welcoming party!]’ Hess said abruptly. ‘[I shall be there too, in good time, but I was not expecting the arrival so soon.]’

He indicated that I should leave the room. I opened the door and held it for him. He stepped through, leaving a hazy smell of body odour and hair-oil in his wake. There was no one else in the hall. Hess turned back to me and shook my hand again, with the same finger limpness as before.

‘[You must be there when the plane disembarks its passengers,]’ he said. ‘[I think you will find that on board there is a great surprise for you, Mr Sawyer!]’

He raised one hand, then hurried up the wide staircase, taking the steps two at a time.

Thinking that I should immediately report what Hess had been saying to me, I went quickly to Dr Burckhardt’s office and knocked on his door. When there was no answer I eased the door open and peered inside - the room was empty.

I went back to the wide hall, remembering that on the far side, beyond the staircase, there were doors leading to the outside. I hurried through, coming out at the top of a double flight of stone steps that descended to the perfectly laid driveway circling round in front of them.

Before me was an astonishing sight. Most of the people I had been working with in the house, plus many others, were hurrying down the sloping ground in the direction of the lake. Nearly all of them were on foot, scurrying across the grass towards the wooden landing-stage that stretched out into the lake. Clearly the plane had turned up before it was expected. Two black limousines were driving along one of the parkways, vanishing in and out of the trees as they too made towards the wooden pier. The white plane was in view now, the sound of its engines droning across the silent forests. The aircraft was heading away from us but flying low alongside the huge lake that was part of the mansion’s estate.

I walked quickly down the steps and began to cross the long sloping lawn towards the lake. In the far distance, the white aircraft was starting to turn, heading back to us.

As I watched it, I was stricken with a thought that almost paralysed me. I came to a halt, feeling completely isolated.

I had been fighting off a feeling of unreality all day, assuming that overwork and the late night were taking their toll. I had lost a great deal of sleep in the weeks leading up to the conference. There was anyway a sense of the fantastic about the whole day’s proceedings: the rapid progress towards completing the treaty, the huge house and its isolated grounds, the interview with Rudolf Hess. And on top of it all there was something Hess had said: his unusual emphasis on the RAF, his prediction that there was a surprise for me on board the plane.

I believed I knew what that surprise might be. I dreaded that I would be right.

Almost all my episodes of lucid imaginings directly or indirectly involved my brother and led to a confrontation, which in turn led to an abrupt return to my real life. I was certain as I stood there in the cool northern sunlight, watching the white plane skimming low above the tops of the trees, that when the aircraft landed I would discover that the pilot was my brother.

I glanced around at the placid Swedish scenery, the forest, the lake, the grand house, the scattered group of my colleagues hurrying down to greet the aircraft. How could I be imagining anything so subtle, complex, apparently unpredictable? Should I let the hallucination continue around me, or should I back away from it? Once before, ultimately to my regret, I had decided to let it run, but also, in the past, I had foreshortened the experience when I realized what it was. Both events had traumatizing effects on me.