Uwe Tellkamp - The Tower

Barbara ignored that. She picked up the book on vintage cars, the present from the Wolfstone-Hoffmanns. ‘Richard and his little hobbies … That’s enoeff.’ The English word, though in Saxon pronunciation, was one of Barbara’s favourites. ‘Men need something to keep them busy, otherwise they start getting funny ideas. You remember that, Christian. Did you drop in on Hans on the way here? After all, it is his brother’s fiftieth, to be honest, that’s not the way an English gentleman … enoeff.’

‘Iris called,’ Meno said. ‘They’ve got the measles.’

‘What?!’ Gudrun stepped back in horror. ‘And you only tell me now? The measles! For adults that can … be fatal! I read recently that these viruses are terribly infectious. And they’ll be on that book now!’

‘Muriel assured me she only touched it with gloves on and Hans even disinfected it,’ Meno said to calm her down.

‘Muriel? That little Miss Head-in-the-clouds?!’

Christian thought of his cousin. She was quiet and decisive but certainly didn’t have her head in the clouds. He took the barometer out of the bag and gave it to Anne as she came in with the others. He was keen to see how his father would respond to the present and whether it could hold its own alongside Landscape during a Thaw .

A simultaneous ‘O-oooh’ came from Richard, Emmy and Ezzo, who had elbowed his way to the table.

‘Lord love us!’ said Emmy in her thick Saxon dialect, clapping her hands together. ‘That’s the real McCoy!’

‘Indeed, it is that.’ Richard cautiously stroked the barometer. The mechanism was cased in carved oak with, above it, a thermometer marked in both Réaumur and Celsius scales. ‘Aneroid barometer’ was written in Gothic script on the white face of the capsule, under it the name of the manufacturer: Oscar Bösolt, Dresden. Over the air-pressure indicator was a manually set needle for measuring changes in pressure. The wood, which Lange had oiled and polished up, had a rich gleam. Round the capsule were stylized aquatic plants that, at the lower part, turned into two dolphins crossing their tails, their mouths swallowing the arrow-shaped leaves of the plants. Growing out of these leaves and framing the thermometer in a lyre-like motif were two slim stems that gradually broadened as they rose, again seamlessly turning into two dolphins, the bodies of which, each under a pair of reeds, framed the top of the barometer. In the middle, above the thermometer, was a bird spreading its wings; its body was worm-eaten and one or two pieces of the wooden feathers had broken off.

Meno told them how they had discovered, and eventually managed to buy, the barometer. ‘It belonged to the landlord who runs the bar in the former clubhouse of the Association of Elbe Fishermen. Lange knows him. At first he didn’t want to sell it, even though he’d advertised it. But Lange persuaded him; Christian went to see him today and that’s how we got it.’

‘But — it must have cost a packet, you can’t do that. How much … I mean, how much did you pay? I’ll put something towards it myself, that goes without saying.’

‘We’re not going to tell you. Anne said you’ve always wanted a really nice barometer. Well, there it is.’

‘Meno …’

‘We all chipped in,’ Anne broke in. ‘It’s a present from the family to you. Everyone gave what they could afford and if we hang it up in the living room, on the wall over the television, I thought, we’ll all get something out of it, won’t we?’

Richard embraced Emmy and Meno, kissed Anne, then his two sons, who both made a face — it was embarrassing for them in front of all the others, above all in front of Reglinde and Ina.

‘Well, thank you, thank you, all. Such a beautiful present … Thank you. And I thought I was going to get a pullover or two, a tie or something like that … You’ve all gone to such expense for me …’

‘Come on, everyone, sit down,’ Anne said. Meno carefully packed the barometer in the bag and put it down on the table.

‘A fine piece, delicate work.’ Niklas nodded in appreciation. ‘Now you’ll always know what the climate’s like, Richard.’

‘Landscape during a thaw?’ Sandor asked with a grin; so far he had hardly taken part in the conversation at all.

‘Hm, we shall see.’ Niklas wiped his massive aquiline nose, on which the red mark of the bridge of his glasses could still be seen. ‘We shall see,’ he repeated, nodding and furrowing his brow.

The conversation split up into little groups. Ulrich and Kurt Rohde talked together quietly; Emmy, Barbara and Gudrun were listening to Alice; the two girls had gone into a huddle, whispering and giggling. Adeling, the only waiter left in the room, brought some wine, Radeberger and Wernesgrüner beer, mineral water and glasses; Anne, bowls of biscuits and nuts. Ezzo and Robert were talking football, chatting about some of Dynamo Dresden’s recent matches; Christian was listening to the men, who, as almost always on such occasions, were talking politics. Richard especially was in his element there.

‘When you think about what that Andropov said … Did you read it? It was splashed all over the newspapers … The usual blah-blah, of course. Sandor, Alice, do you fancy a crash course in “How to fill three pages of a newspaper — Berliner size — without saying a single word that means anything”? You have to pick out the juicy bits and make sense of them yourself. I recommend you have a look at our sausage- and cheese-wrapping papers, namely the Sächsische Neueste Nachrichten , the Sächsisches Tageblatt and, above all, the Sächsische Zeitung .’

‘Not so loud, Richard,’ said Anne, looking round anxiously.

‘OK, I know. Have you read it?’

‘You couldn’t miss it,’ Niklas growled. ‘I tend to avoid the dreary acres of newsprint, but it did strike me that he intends to continue the course prescribed by the Twenty-Sixth Party Conference.’

‘Did you expect anything else?’

‘No. In the band they’ve made various jokes about it — for example, that he should have said, “Keep going forward on a quite different course …” ’

‘And away from hard liquor. Just look at the guys marching past Brezhnev’s coffin. The puffy faces! All alcoholics, I swear. Twenty-five years on nights. Socialism equals ruined livers, varices of the oesophageal veins.’

Anne grasped Richard’s arm. He lowered his voice so that they all had to lean forward, even though he was speaking clearly.

‘Varices of the oesophageal veins? What’s that?’ Reglinde was trying to change the subject and when Richard started out on a detailed explanation, Christian thought it was stupid to go into it out of politeness, since going into it looked like falling for her diversion.

‘I also took the trouble to read it,’ Meno said. ‘I thought it was interesting that they didn’t say that Comrade Andropov was head of the secret service,’ he went on reflectively.

‘And why should they? Look, it’s self-evident. Brezhnev ruled for a good twenty years. Now he’s dead. Who’s going to be his successor? The one who knows the country best, of course. The head of the secret service.’

‘Be careful, Richard, not so loud, who knows, perhaps even here …’ Anne glanced suspiciously at Adeling, then waved him away when he looked as if he were about take a step towards them. ‘No, it’s nothing, I don’t need anything, thank you.’ She shook her head. ‘But all of you? Perhaps you’d like …?’ She looked round. ‘There’s still ice-cream sundaes.’

‘Oh yes!’ Ezzo and Robert cried simultaneously.

Adeling tapped his fingertips, rocked on his heels and nodded to Anne. He and another waiter brought the ice cream.