Ben Elton - Two Brothers

‘Yes?’ Dagmar asked.

‘The thing is…’

‘What?’

Paulus was also red in the face now, a rare sight indeed, his colouring being so much darker than Otto’s. He kicked at the dry grass and stuck the hand that wasn’t held by Dagmar deep into his pocket.

‘Just so long as you know… That one day…’

‘Yes, Pauly,’ Dagmar said, smiling again now. ‘One day what?’

‘One day you’re going to marry me, that’s all.’

‘He means me,’ said Otto quickly.

‘Yes, all right,’ Paulus conceded. ‘One day you’re going to marry me or Otto. That is, one or the other of us. We’ve talked about it. Lots as a matter of fact and we’ve decided.’

‘Yeah,’ Otto added. ‘We’ve decided. We need that to be clear.’ Dagmar’s face spread into the broadest smile. She plonked herself down beneath the tree pulling both boys down beside her. Her skirt billowed out around her on the grass. She let go of their hands and drew her bare legs up to her chest, throwing her arms around her knees. Her shiny painted toenails twinkled through her open sandals.

‘Oh Pauly, Ottsy ! You are silly . Of course I’ll marry you. Both of you! At once if you like. You’re my best friends and you always will be. And of course I shan’t even look at any American boys!’

‘Good,’ the boys grunted.

‘Unless of course they’re Clark Gable. Have you seen Red Dust ? God he is so dishy! But other than Clark Gable I absolutely promise.’

The boys’ mood lightened now. They had said what they needed to say and the principle had been established.

FRIEDA, WOLFGANG AND the twins got out of their cab at the entrance to the famous old Kempinski hotel. That splendid portal which had in the past regularly welcomed royalty and heads of state and which had for so long bustled with the richest and most elegant people in Berlin.

Being Jewish-owned the hotel had of course been much defaced with paint in recent months, but much to Wolfgang and Frieda’s relief there was no gauntlet of SA pickets to run on the night of the party. The Fischers had not announced the event in the social papers as they would have done in previous years, and the only evidence that the police were aware of the celebration at all was the two black-leather-coated figures in Homburg hats who stood at the entrance just behind the doorman with notebooks and pencils in hand.

Unfortunately, however, it was not just the SA who were absent from the party that night.

There was no sign of other guests either. From hearing Dagmar talk about the extent of the invitation list, the Stengels had been expecting a jam of cars and a merry throng at the hotel doors, but for the moment at least they had the red carpet which stretched across the pavement to the street to themselves.

‘Perhaps people will come along later,’ Frieda said brightly. ‘After all, we’re bang on time, which everybody knows is not the fashionable time to arrive. I’m sure it’ll fill up. Come on, at least there won’t be a queue for drinks.’

The four of them entered the lobby of the hotel and were politely directed to the grand ballroom which was situated at the rear of the building along a number of thickly carpeted corridors.

‘I know what it is!’ Frieda said. ‘Of course! The ballroom has a separate entrance, I remember now. I came to some doctors’ do here years ago and we all entered from the street behind.’

But whether or not they had got the right entrance, when finally they arrived at the gilded doors to the ballroom there was still no throng of people bustling to get in. Just the Fishers themselves, waiting to greet their guests.

They made a handsome threesome. Magnificent in a way.

The very cream of rich Berlin society.

Herr Fischer upright in formal evening dress, a service medal at his chest and a sash representing the Berlin Chamber of Commerce across his shoulder. Frau Fischer in a full-length gown, cut low at the bosom to accommodate a fabulous diamond necklace that was surely worth a fortune.

And then there was Dagmar.

The boys’ jaws almost dropped to the level of the carpet with selfconscious admiration when they saw her. She was suddenly a young woman, while they two still felt like little boys. Little boys, shuffling their feet, tongue-tied and pole-axed with ill-concealed longing. She had on a silken gown with a full-length skirt and a tight, strapless bodice which left them in no doubt that the figure Silke had once pronounced a fake was certainly nothing of the sort any more. The boys were struck dumb with admiration.

So mesmerized were they that at first they did not notice the tension on their friend’s lovely face and the sadness in her eyes.

They were, after all, thirteen-year-old boys and at that moment, speechless with longing, they weren’t looking at her face.

‘Welcome, Herr Stengel, Frau Stengel,’ Herr Fischer said. ‘You met my wife of course on that dreadful day when we collected Dagmar from your apartment, after these two fine lads had been her saviour, for which we will always be grateful… You are very welcome. Please. Do go on through.’

Herr Fischer then turned to his daughter.

‘Dagmar, you must greet your guests.’

Dagmar had seemed in something of a daze.

‘Yes, of course, Papa. Hello, Paulus. Hello, Otto.’

‘Wow, Dagmar!’ Paulus stammered.

‘Yeah. Wow,’ Otto echoed.

‘You look…’ Paulus began. He was trying hard to keep his focus on Dagmar’s face but was having a lot of trouble preventing his eyes from flicking downwards.

‘You’ve got…’ Otto was not even trying.

‘They look…’

‘They’re just…’

Dagmar went red. ‘Stop staring!’ she hissed.

‘I wasn’t!’ Paulus protested, going red himself.

‘Nor me!’ Otto lied too.

‘You were!’ Dagmar whispered ferociously. ‘Anyone would think you’d never seen me before.’

‘Not so much of you, we haven’t,’ Otto said.

At which Paulus kicked him.

‘Well, it’s very rude to gawp like that but I don’t care because this evening is absolutely horrible anyway! Now go through and get some ice cream which is all you probably care about anyway and I have to stand here with my parents and I just want to die !’

Then Dagmar turned away from them, sniffing loudly and dabbing at her eyes.

Somewhat at a loss, Paulus and Otto did as they were told and followed their parents through into the ballroom where even they, who had never attended an event remotely like it before, realized at once that things were not going the way they were supposed to.

The ballroom was empty save for them, their parents and twenty waiters.

‘Keep smiling, boys,’ Frieda muttered through a fixed grin. ‘I’m afraid we’re the first.’

Wolfgang’s smile at least was genuine. It was such a ridiculous situation. The four of them standing alone in the huge ballroom beneath the light of ten enormous crystal chandeliers outnumbered five to one by the waiters.

‘Well, I must say, that’s a lovely carpet, isn’t it?’ Frieda said bravely attempting to fill the emptiness with small talk. ‘I imagine it took absolutely for ever to weave. And the champagne is delicious, isn’t it! How is the fruit cup, boys? What a treat this is.’

Slowly as the minutes ticked by a few more guests drifted in until eventually there were perhaps forty or so people in a room that could comfortably have held two hundred.

People skirted around the obvious embarrassment.

‘There has been a flu of some kind going around,’ they assured each other. ‘Perhaps that has put some people off.’