Pierre Frei - Berlin - A Novel

'It was three-nil,' he shouted back with enthusiasm.

Rainer and Isabel Jordan came to visit one Sunday morning in August 1939. They would have created a sensation even without their open Mercedes with its long, long radiator and chrome-plated compressor pipes, Isabel longlegged in a sporty foal-skin coat, her dark-blonde hair tousled from the breeze, Rainer in his smart, fluffy, teddy-bear coat. Their car brought people crowding into the usually peaceful Wilskistrasse. The four friends watched with mischievous pleasure from the living-room window.

Jutta looked at Rainer's profile: his rounded chin thrust slightly forward, his full lips, the strong eyebrows over the straight nose. He had hardly changed at all, was still youthful, if not as carefree as on the day they'd first met. His physical proximity set off that old tingling below her navel.

'Rather nouveau riche.' she teased.

He grinned. 'The fruits of hard labour. I'm working away, day and night. Right now I'm working for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, haggling with the Propaganda Ministry over every Hollywood film that doesn't fit with our sound German national feeling, Shirley Temple excepted. A Swiss watch or a gold tiepin for the head of the relevant ministry department works miracles, along with a couple of cuts in the movie for form's sake. I get paid pretty well by MGM, of course. I'm legal adviser on rights to Tobis Films. And then there are the divorces. You'd be amazed how many would sooner part with their Jewish wives than their movie careers. Riihmann's in a particular hurry. On the other hand, I'm also creating a legal precedent for a wonderful union. Hoppe and Griindgens are supplying each other with male and female playmates, all under cover of their wedding rings.'

'I don't remember you as being quite so cynical,' Jutta marvelled.

'Pure self-defence. Is there a beer anywhere around here?'

'Sure, in the kitchen.' Jochen took his arm.

Isabel stayed in the living room with Jutta. 'How's life with you two?'

'I think Jochen's happy. He throws himself into his work body and soul, he's a born teacher.'

'I can hardly believe I ever wanted to be one too. Sorry, I didn't mean to sound stuck-up. How about you, Jutta?'

'I have Frau Gerold and the bookshop.

'What about your marriage?'

'In bed, you mean? Well, it's kind of OK there. Reliable.'

You fancy a change?'

'Yes, I guess so. But I'm not really on the lookout for an opportunity. Too lazy, too cowardly — probably both.'

Isabel nodded understandingly. 'We sometimes ask a nice couple round to our place.'

'Heavens, Jochen would never go along with that.' Jutta offered Isabel a Juno, but it was refused. She laughed dryly. 'The most erotic thing he can imagine is a Volkswagen. I guess he has that in common with our beloved Fuhrer. Except that I don't suppose the Fuhrer has to stick savings stamps in a book. Jochen is financing his by giving pupils extra coaching. And about coaching, by the way — Drechsel does some coaching too. He beats the boys. He drew blood from little Didi Muller, though of course he denied it when Jochen asked him.'

'That doesn't really fit the picture,' said Isabel. She sounded as if she knew.

'What do you mean?'

Rainer and Jochen came back from the kitchen, each holding a bottle of Engelhard lager. Jochen was unusually animated. '. You unbend the metal clips and pull the closure out of the bottle neck. It works with bottles of pop too. You remove the porcelain stopper. Then the wire's a perfect skeleton key. We used one on the sly at my public school in Naumburg to open the teachers' toilets and spread honey over the loo seat.'

'Sounds a sticky business to me.'

'Herr Wetzer, our teacher, sat on a wasp. You should have heard him yell.'

The two of them shook with laughter. Rainer was gasping for air, Jochen's face was red. Like two naughty boys, thought Jutta. Isabel winked at her, obviously thinking just the same. 'What shall we do now?' she asked her husband.

'I'm inviting us all to Brumm's.'

'Sommerfeld's now,' Jochen told him. 'That's what the place is called these days.'

They got the last free table. The cafe was popular. The continuing economic upturn allowed many people the modest luxury of eating out at lunchtime. Herr Vollmer from the Reich Air-Raid Defence League waved. He was sitting with his wife and son, eating jugged hare. The boy, about twelve, was struggling desperately with the little bones left after the meat was eaten, which kept slipping off his fork before he could deposit them on the side of the plate.

'I once had an excellent zander here. The Mosel was just as good, and the company was entrancing.' Rainer Jordan looked at Jutta with a tiny smile that escaped the others. 'But sad to say, nothing came of coffee afterwards.' She was surprised to feel herself going moist. She pressed her thighs together, which intensified the sensation and was not at all unpleasant.

Zander wasn't in season at this time of year, and no one would have wanted it. Instead they ate an excellent Viennese goulash with dumplings, and drank Franconian wine. 'How's Armin Drechsel doing?' Isabel asked. She gave Jutta a meaningful glance.

'His pupils shine in their maths exams,' Jochen said enthusiastically. 'They say he'll get early promotion to senior status. He's a very gifted teacher.'

And a very gifted Hitler Youth leader,' said Jutta dryly. 'Does he teach the boys' lessons in shorts too?'

Armin takes his responsibilities in the Hitler Youth very seriously,' her husband told her. Isabel pouted, and gave a scornful snort.

'I'm going for a spin in the car with Jochen,' said her husband. 'Order coffee for us, will you?'

'To get back to the subject of Drechsel.'said Jutta impatiently, as soon as she and Isabel were alone.

'I was going to do just that, so listen. No, it's not the cane. Armin doesn't beat little boys. Armin abuses them.'

'What do you mean?'

'I found out by chance at the uni. I hadn't seen the 'Out of Order' notice on the door of the Ladies' room. Armin was in there with his trousers down and the caretaker's twelve-year-old son in front of him. I never told anyone. You don't like to get a fellow-student into trouble. But I realize now that it wasn't just a one-off'

'He indecently assaults children?' Jutta was horrified.

'Boys. He has plenty of opportunity. First it was the Wandervogel hikers, then the Pathfinders. Later he attached himself to the Hitler Youth. His position as teacher in a boys' school fits the picture too. He's always around places where boys gather together. On a long-distance hike, camping out in tents, in your school. You can guess where the blood on little Didi's trousers came from.'

They were interrupted by the return of the men. Jochen was in transports of delight. 'Rainer let me take the wheel. That engine — such sweet music! And the acceleration…'

'It has four wheels, like any other car,' said Isabel, puring cold water on his enthusiasm. 'Darling, we must go home and change. We're expected at the Trencks' for cocktails at six.'

That evening Jutta smoked another of her rare Junos on the balcony. Jochen watched its smoke mingle with the yellow light of the street lamps. It was warm, peaceful late-summer weather, although dark events cast their shadows before them. The newspapers and radio had been full of bad news for days.

'Will they call you up if there's a war?'

'Teachers will be what they call a reserved occupation. I know that from Armin Drechsel. He has good connections with the authorities.'

I suppose that's why no one puts a stop to his activities.'

'Still not satisfied?' he snapped.

Jutta was not giving in. 'He was involved with the Wandervogel and the Pathfinders, then he went on to the Hitler Youth. Drechsel's been around wherever he can find a lot of boys gathered together. Including your school.'