Living with Strangers (20 page)

We sat with two large beers outside a bar. The waitress hovered, expecting us to order food, but nothing could have induced me to eat. I drank instead – it gave me something to do with my hands and I hoped it would free up my speech. I glanced at Josef across the table, sipping his beer, squinting against the light reflected off the water.

I feared the wrong words, the wrong move on my part that would cause him to disappear again, that I would blink and he would be gone. I cast around for something to keep him.

‘How did you know where to find me – where I’d be this morning?’

‘I should be asking you that,’ he said.

‘Alex said you were in Europe.’

‘Europe’s a big place.’

‘He said you’d kept an old photograph.’

Josef took a long drink and wiped foam from his mouth. ‘And that brought you here.’ It wasn’t a question.

‘It was here or Berlin. When Papa said he’d written to you, that he’d told you about his illness, it had to be one or the other. I figured you might just be looking for something. Looking back, maybe, taking stock. I’ve done a lot of that recently.’ Slowly my words were returning.

‘Well you were right on both counts. I did go to Berlin, but half of it’s missing now and there didn’t seem much point in staying. Where Saul and the family used to live is in the Russian sector – you can cross over on a Canadian passport but when I got there I decided against it. It was grim. The Wall, the checkpoints – like the ones we saw here, up at Priwall – remember? But more sinister somehow. I left after twenty-four hours.’

‘And then what did you do?’

‘Travelled. Up and down – pretty much all over Germany and Austria, but it was winter. There was a lot of snow – I went skiing near Innsbruck.’

Skiing? Josef could ski? Again, so much I didn’t know. ‘And when did you come back here?’

Josef looked at me over his glass, then put it down carefully on the table. ‘Last night,’ he said.

‘Last night? Only last night?’ Now I was lost.

‘I came here to begin with, last November, when I left Canada.’

‘Was that after Papa sent you the letter?’

‘Yes. I stayed a few days, perhaps a week, then moved on, like I said.’

‘So my guess was wild and yet you’re here now?’ It didn’t make sense.

Josef took out a tobacco tin and began rolling a cigarette. ‘I was in Heidelberg and phoned Alex – just by chance. It was only the second time since I left home.’

‘When was that?’

‘Monday.’

‘Ah. Alex told you I’d come here?’

‘I guess he wanted me to know. Thought it might help sort my head out.’

‘So you came here… to find me?’ This was back to front.

‘I guess. Last night I stayed at the YMCA – they told me a girl had been asking questions – looking for her brother. They said she had a photo.’

I pulled the photo out of my bag and handed it to him. He looked at it briefly.

‘Alex looks nice,’ I said.

Josef slid the photo back across the table and got up to order more beer. I needed the loo, but was afraid to leave in case he disappeared again. Fifteen years had passed, I was now a grown woman with a child, yet somehow I was still thirteen.

He sat down again and the waitress brought the drinks. ‘It’s strange, you know.’ He began to fiddle with a beer mat.

I waited.

‘When Saul’s letter came, it took a while to sink in. I’ve kind of kept all that on one side – home, the whole family thing. It was the only way.’

I trod carefully. ‘You know, they told me what happened at school – why you went away.’

Josef shrugged, flipping the beer mat. ‘It’s another world – another life.’

‘Another person?’

‘Pretty much. But then when I knew what was happening to Saul it all came back. It just came pouring out of the woodwork, or wherever I’d stashed it all these years. What happened, why they sent me away and…’ He stopped.

‘Why you didn’t come back? Why you never wrote? Why you cut us all off?’ I may have been thirteen again, but my anger was quite grown up. It came out of the woodwork too – out of the cupboard, out of my mouth. I had forgiven Molly and Saul, but there was still a score to settle here.

Other drinkers turned to look. Raised voices, foreign sounds on a peaceful April day.

Josef leaned towards me over the table. His voice, with its unfamiliar North American lilt, quietly intense. ‘It was hard for me too.’

Unappeased, I ploughed into him again. ‘But didn’t you care enough to send me a line – or Molly? Didn’t she deserve something? I can understand you being angry with Papa – but Molly?’

Josef relit his cigarette and blew out a thin stream of smoke. ‘Does it matter now, Maddie? Really, isn’t it all… academic? You came to find me – here I am. Now what – what do we do now?’

He was right. I sat and finished my beer in silence. Eventually I said, ‘Papa wants to see you, Joe. He’s very ill – he’s failing. I couldn’t believe it either when I heard. I’ve been away too, you know – for quite a while.’

‘Saul told me you were in France. And about Chloé.’

‘Yes, you have a niece.’

‘And her father?’

This wasn’t comfortable ground either. ‘That’s another story,’ I said. I’d dragged it out of the cupboard for Sophie and for Saul – I didn’t want to do it again. Not here, not now.

We left the bar and walked back into town. Josef bought hot dogs from a stall – bratwurst topped with sauerkraut. I was hungry after all.

‘Remember Uncle Jakob?’ I asked between mouthfuls. ‘When we came here with Papa?’

‘Lemon torte, warm rolls for breakfast. What was that woman called – the one who looked after him?’

‘Lenchen. I went to the house, you know. Jakob’s house. It looks just the same, except the paintwork’s a different colour. But I didn’t knock – I didn’t think you’d have gone there, I don’t know why.’

‘I had the same idea when I first came here, but then changed my mind. If we’d both gone there, it might have saved you a few days
schlepping
.’

‘How did you know I’d be on the waterfront?’

Josef stood up and threw his lunch paper in the bin. ‘Same way you knew I’d be here in Lübeck. Call it an inspired guess.’

Together we walked the city boundary and back again into the centre. We talked of France and work and motherhood, of Canada, Alex and art. He told me of the book he’d been working on since he came to Germany – a sombre tale of love and loss. He’d just sent the drawings back to Alex – a peace offering of sorts. I took a photo of him in front of the old church.

Later, when we caught a bus out to the coast and crossed on the ferry to Priwall, an old ease had settled between us. We stood on the beach and looked again over to the East. Josef put his arm around my shoulder and left it resting there.

‘Complicated, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘Our family.’

*

It was dark when we returned to Lübeck. I needed to phone home – to let them know what had happened, even though my mission was only half accomplished. I also longed for news of Chloé.

At the hotel, the receptionist looked up as we walked in. ‘You found him then,’ she said, ‘I told you not to give up.’

In my room I placed the call – this time Paul answered.

‘Any news?’

‘He’s here. He’s downstairs.’

I heard a low whistle from the other end of the line. ‘You were right then.’

‘It’s not quite so simple – in the end, he came to find me.’

‘He did what?’

‘I’ll explain later. I have to go now.’ I thought of Josef hanging about in the lobby and believed he was still a flight risk. I needed to keep him close.

‘Is he coming back with you?’

‘I don’t know. We’ll see. I have this evening to persuade him.’

‘Do you want to speak to Mum – or Dad?’

‘Not now – I’ll be home tomorrow. Just let them know. And Chloé?’

‘She’s fine – being thoroughly spoilt. Don’t worry.’

When I came down from my room, Josef was standing in reception where I’d left him. The receptionist was practising her English, leaning forward on the counter and pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. She would be crushed to know her performance was wasted on my brother.

Half an hour later we were installed in yet another pub with beer and large bowls of chicken stew with dumplings. My fourth day of eating out – I was beginning to feel fat and in need of Paul’s delicate home cooking.

‘Will you stay at the YMCA again – can they take you?’

‘I booked in for a couple of nights. They’re not too busy just now.’

‘And then what? What will you do?’ I watched his large hands dip bread into the stew.

‘I haven’t decided yet. It’s a tough call. I can’t pretend the last fifteen years never happened.’

‘But you said yourself, Papa’s letter was a turning point. For him too, I think. He was reaching out. He wanted you to know how sick he was before anyone else – even Molly.’

‘I know that. Part of me wants to come back and see him – see them all. But then, what do I know about any of them? My family, yes, but they sent me away for something I didn’t do – for trying to tell the truth.’ Josef had stopped eating; his eyes resting beyond the room.

‘But they know that. They know it was all down to that … creep!’

‘Do they? Do they really? Don’t think I haven’t thought about this – that I didn’t go over it so many times. It’s not easy.’

I reached across the table and touched his hands as they ripped up the remains of the bread. ‘What happened that day, Joe? What really happened?’

Josef sighed, tossed his bread onto the tablecloth and pulled the tobacco tin from his pocket. ‘I’d been doing extra art lessons,’ he said, ‘quite a few.’

‘I remember.’

‘I spent a lot of time on it, I wasn’t any good at anything else. God knows how I got into that school – I’d never have done it if you hadn’t read to me so much when we were kids. Anyway, Andy – Prentice
– used to coach me. He was useful, had loads of contacts. You know he owned a gallery – he was quite well known in the right places. I was getting a good portfolio together. Some of it won prizes. Then one day after school, we were in the art room. It was dark, it must have been February time. Anyway, I was clearing up and he was kind of hanging around, not doing anything – not helping like he usually did. Then he said:
I’ll run you home if you like, save you catching the bus.
Well, that was great because it was raining and I had a massive folder to carry.

We got into his car, it was a sports thing – there wasn’t much room to put my folder, so I stuck it in the back behind the seats. Then he said he just had to drop something off at home, so we drove there and he asked me if I’d like a coffee – and like an idiot, I went in.’

I’d stopped eating now, too. Stopped breathing.

‘I left my folder in the car. I thought I’d only be ten minutes or so. He told me to take my coat off and sit down. Then he came over and…’ Josef’s fingers rubbed his chin. I heard them scratch against the stubble. ‘He started doing stuff.’

‘What kind of stuff?’

Josef raised an eyebrow at me as if to say: what the hell do you think? ‘Well, he wasn’t bringing me coffee, that’s for sure. He grabbed me, grabbed my hand – pushed it into … God, Maddie, use your imagination!’

There were limits to my imagination.

‘Anyway, perhaps I sat there too long before I reacted. I don’t know. I just froze. Then I shoved him off, but he was a big guy and he came at me again. I don’t remember how I got out of there, I just remember running down the road. I’d no money so I ran all the way home. I left my coat in his flat, left my folder in his car. And that was part of the problem, why they didn’t believe my story – said I’d made it all up. That’s what he used to deny it.’

Josef sighed, turning the tobacco tin over and over on the table. ‘It just got messy.’

‘More than it was already?’

‘Oh, yes. Later that evening, I told Saul. He knew something was wrong – I was so late home.’

‘And?’

‘In a nutshell, he didn’t believe me.’

‘What?’ I stared at him.

‘He didn’t believe me. He can’t have done, because of what happened afterwards.’

‘You mean, being sent away?’

‘Eventually, yes. Next morning, all hell broke loose. I was called into Slater’s office and he made me stand in front of his desk like I’d done something wrong. Saul was there too, on a chair by the window. He didn’t say anything when I came in – didn’t even look at me. Then Slater said something about:
This is a very serious allegation, Josef. Andrew Prentice is a highly valued member of staff – and one of our teacher-governors. Have you thought carefully about what you’re suggesting? What this might do to his career?
That was rich. Then he asked me a whole load of questions. Why was my coat at his house? Why was my work in his car? How much time did we spend alone at school? Had I ever been to his house before – he went on and on. Then I was sent out and told to go to my form room.

‘Halfway through the first period, Saul came to fetch me and took me back to Slater’s office. Prentice was there – he had this sort of hurt look on his face – when he saw me he just shook his head as if he was completely baffled. Then came the bombshell. Slater said:
I think you owe Mr Prentice an apology, Josef. He’s prepared to overlook your comments, which I think, under the circumstances is very generous of him.
I couldn’t believe it – what was I supposed to do now? Say sorry for refusing to grope him? I looked over at Saul – hoping for something from him. Support maybe? But you know, in all that time, Saul said nothing – nothing at all. If he’d laid into me – yelled at me for being a prat – I could have coped with that, but it was the silence that got me.

‘I wished to God I’d said nothing. Wished I’d just – I don’t know – ignored it? But I needed to say something – what if he tried it on again? What if he tried it on with someone else – someone younger? And there was my work – how was I to carry on with it, always watching my back – literally? I know I was pretty confused back then – girls didn’t figure much in my thinking and I guess Saul suspected something of the sort – but this was way out of line. Prentice was a liability. I was fifteen, for God’s sake – he was twice my age, with a duty of care. It stank.

‘You know, I’ve had some weird times since then, Maddie, but I’ve never been as scared, or alone as I was in that room. At the end of the day, I was only a kid – and my father didn’t fight for me. It’s been hard to get past that.’

I picked up the tobacco tin and rolled a cigarette for myself. I knew then that Josef would not come back with me, that in some ways it was worse now. Refusing to come would deny Saul restitution when he needed it most. Yet I understood why. There was much Josef still needed time to deal with. It was so much harder for him than it had been for me; there were many more years to breach. I may have been ignored, cast aside, but Josef had been cast out.

‘So you were banished? Sent away to keep things
normal
– to hush up the scandal?’

‘In a way, yes. But after that – I wasn’t sorry to go. Not really. I knew I’d never feel right at school again – it was hard enough anyway, and art was all I had. Once that’d gone, there didn’t seem much point hanging around. As long as Prentice was there, calling me a liar, there was no way I could be there too.

‘Saul wrote to Uncle Stefan – arranged it all in a couple of weeks. I didn’t even wait to finish the term – or do my exams.’

‘Prentice did leave, you know. I told you in one of my letters.’

‘I remember. I wonder who else he’s messed with since then.’

‘Probably best not think about it.’

*

We paid the bill and left. It was late and the day had been long. As Josef walked back with me to my hotel, we passed the bar I had been in only the day before. I stopped to look through the window; the same group was sitting round the table.

‘I won’t be a minute,’ I said, ‘I have to do something.’

Inside, I went over and pointed to the window where Josef paced up and down outside, smoking. The girl who had taken my hotel number, turned to look. ‘I was right, then,’ she said. ‘I told him where to find you.’

‘You told him? When?’

‘Last night, after you left. He came in, not ten minutes later. I wasn’t sure, but he ordered a beer and his accent wasn’t quite like yours. So I went and asked him, told him you’d been here, described you – your hair especially. He looked worried then – distracted? I told him where you were staying, where you planned to go this morning – the only place you hadn’t searched yet. It was what you wanted, yes?’

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘it was what I wanted.’ I thanked them all, this brief encounter that had yielded so much.

Outside again, I questioned Josef. ‘It wasn’t an inspired guess at all, was it? You knew where I’d be this morning – you were told.’

He had the grace to look sheepish. ‘I may have had some help.’ Through the window, in the lights of the bar, I saw the girl turn to wave and Josef raise a hand in response.

‘And you knew where I was staying, but you didn’t…’

‘I needed some time.’

‘It’s only me, Joe, you’ve had fifteen years!’

‘That’s not fair, Maddie. I don’t want to fight.’

And neither did I. I wanted all this over with.

‘You’re not coming back, are you?’

‘I don’t think I can. Not yet, anyway. This is all…’ He lifted his hands in a vague gesture. ‘Seeing you – it changes things. But I’m not ready yet.’

‘It’ll break Papa’s heart.’

Josef flicked his cigarette into the gutter. ‘
Touché
,’ he said and set off down the narrow street. I hurried after him, trying to keep up.