Uwe Tellkamp - The Tower

‘He says that all the members of the Politburo are of the opinion that Yuri Vladimirovich has mastered Brezhnev’s style of leadership well,’ Christian replied. The adults looked at him in astonishment. ‘We went through the article at school, in civics. However,’ he added with a smile, ‘not with your deductions.’

‘We keep those to ourselves, Christian, d’you hear?’ Anne warned him in a low voice.

‘Yes, exactly. Mastered well, that’s what it said. In a word: a hard line! And when I read what else this Andropov said, what was it now, oh yes, something like: “Each one of us knows what an invaluable contribution Leonid Ilyich Brezhnev made to the creation” — to the creation, oh dear me, these abstract nouns always seem to crop up in the rubbish they write, sometimes you get the impression they do it deliberately to discourage people from reading on, and then they put the bit that matters in the last third …’

‘I know what you mean, Richard, it left a nasty taste in my mouth too.’ Niklas gave an outraged nod.

‘ “… to the creation of the healthy moral and political atmosphere that characterizes the life and work of the Party today” … that is the worst kind of cynicism you can get, if you exclude Mielke’s call to the comrades in the Stasi, that really takes the bacon, Chekists, he calls them, Chekists, it makes you feel sick; that’s the justification for the camps …’

The political discussion soon subsided once Anne, realizing that the tension was increasing and Richard was getting more and more worked up, had given Niklas and Meno a sign and changed the subject. Moreover Christian could see that as hostess she was unhappy that the party had split up into three or four groups that were pursuing quite separate conversations. So Alice had to take out her photos again and Sandor had to tell them again about the Galapagos, where they had been on a cruise; Niklas then talked about the Dresden State Orchestra’s tour of West Germany, on which he had been the accompanying doctor.

‘A great success, great success … and all the grub they laid out for us poor starving Zone-dwellers! … further proof for us of what a thoroughly decadent society imperialism is and how magnificent its death-throes are …’ Niklas waved his hand dismissively, and when they asked him what exactly they’d had to eat, his only reply was to close his eyes and give a real Dresden ‘Ooooh’, an expression that combined wonderment and stupefaction with acknowledgement of the limited nature of local catering. ‘But no one’s going to match what you’ve put together this evening that soon, even if it’s the boss of VEB Delikat himself.’

Then Niklas talked about Il Seraglio , which had been performed recently in the Dresden theatre. Here he was in his element, going into detail, vivid detail, imitating the gestures of the Japanese conductor, who, according to the withering verdict of the majority of the orchestra, had no idea about music; he also recounted anecdotes that were going round the theatre. The ice cream and desserts had all been finished; everyone was cheered up by the good food, the company and Niklas’s stories. They left at around eleven.

The left-over food and drink were packed up.

‘I’ll make up a special parcel for Regine and Hansi, they’ll be hungry.’

‘Yes, good idea, Anne. I’ll see to the presents.’ Richard went to the easel. Meno helped Anne and Adeling pack up the food. ‘How are things with Regine?’

‘Not very good, I think. She doesn’t say that, but she doesn’t look well. They’re giving her a lot of hassle, Hansi gets it at school as well.’

‘How long’s she been waiting now?’

‘Since nine this morning. When I left, around five, the call hadn’t come, nor when Richard left. They won’t have managed it since then either, otherwise they would have come.’

‘What should I do with the cold meat? Have you any wrapping paper?’

‘Wait a minute.’ Anne went over to Adeling, who went out and reappeared shortly after with a roll of greaseproof paper.

‘How long is it since Jürgen went?’

‘Two and a half years. Terrible. When I imagine what it would be like if Richard were in Munich or Hamburg, Mo, and I was stuck here all by myself with the children … No, I just don’t want to think about it.’

Outside it was bitterly cold. The air seemed to be grasping their cheeks and the tips of their noses with sandpaper fingers. It had stopped snowing. Canopies of light hung over the crossings, the only places where the street lamps were still on; the pavements lay in darkness, with a touch of faint moonlight here and there; the houses were black blocks with glassy outlines. Meno supported Grandmother Emmy and was carrying most of the presents in a bag; Richard, walking alongside Anne, had the picture, she the barometer, Christian his cello; the Tietzes were far ahead of them, each with some kind of bag containing wrapped-up food over their shoulder.

‘Well, little nurse, who tended me with devoted care?’ said Richard, teasing his wife. ‘Didn’t you blush!’

‘And he bowed to me into the bargain, your well-informed Herr Professor Müller. He could at least have asked you how things were before confusing me — at your birthday party in front of fifty people! — with that Nurse Hannelore.’ Anne shook her head in outrage. ‘I wasn’t even a student nurse at that time and certainly not in Halle.’

‘It was well meant, as a compliment.’

‘Well meant, compliment — you know what you can do with your compliment …’ Angrily Anne kicked a snowball that was lying on the path out of the way.

‘Aren’t you angry! Come here, my little lambkin.’ Richard grabbed her and gave her a kiss.

‘Watch out with the picture … And don’t call me your “little lambkin” — you know very well I can’t stand it. Of course I’m annoyed. I just hope he gets stomach ache from all the cakes he stuffed himself with.’

Anne looked across at the children, who were running in the road and laughing as they threw snowballs at each other. Emmy and Meno were some distance behind, then came Kurt Rohde with Barbara and Ulrich; Alice and Sandor were behind them.

‘There’s one thing I ask of you, Richard: you mustn’t talk so openly when there are so many people present, some of whom we don’t know very well. We know, of course, what the Tietzes’ views are, and Meno’s. But you know that Ulrich is a Party member.’

‘Yes, and why? Because otherwise he wouldn’t have been made managing director. He didn’t join from conviction. He’s got eyes in his head, he’s still in his right senses.’

‘Still. You’ve a tendency to get louder and louder the more you get worked up about a subject. Can you vouch for every one of your colleagues? You see.’

‘Müller showed a dangerous reaction to a joke Manfred made. We were at the buffet, Christian had just told one about Brezhnev and along came Müller to give us a slap on the wrists: that mockery of a great man whom our Soviet brothers had lost was uncalled for and that we should be aware of our position and stuff like that.’

‘You see, that’s just what I mean. And he was standing quite far away, I was watching you. You must think of things like that, Richard, promise me that. You must learn to hold your tongue. You encourage Christian and you know what he’s like, that he takes after you in this respect. The boy’s bound to think: If my father thinks he can get away with it, so can I.’

‘I don’t believe that’s what he thinks. You underestimate him. But you’re right, my feelings keep running away with me. I’m not one of your devious lickspittles and I don’t want to bring up my boys to be like that, goddammit,’ Richard said in a voice strained with fury.