Stile Maus (27 page)

‘Ah, I said careful.’  Klaus itched at the matted waves of black and wiped the tips of his fingers on a towel.  Felix glanced at the clock.  Quarter to six.  Just enough time to clear up.   

By the time the doorbell rang, Klaus had changed his shirt twice.  The mottled garments lay within a barrel in the garden.  Felix wasn’t expecting his guest to root through his laundry but he didn’t want to take any chances.  After tutoring Klaus on the art of trickery Felix took a palm-full of aftershave and slapped it against his beard and neck, hoping the smell would deflect the linger of polish.  He opened the door and Armin Dreyer slid inside with a handshake.

‘That’s a pungent aftershave you have there,’ he said as he headed into the living room.

‘May I get you a drink, Armin?’

‘Yes tea please.’

He sat down and pondered over the spiral of photographs that swamped the pallid walls. 

‘Milk?’ Felix called from the kitchen.

‘Please.’

Tired of his own company, Armin Dreyer drifted into the kitchen and took the first sip of tea whilst stood over the dinner table.

‘You have a lovely home,’ he said between three cautious sips. 

‘Thank you, please...’  Felix led the sway of Armin’s trench coat back into the living room and offered him a seat. 

Armin set a briefcase down him and pursed his lips over the tea. 

‘So,’ he said, ‘where is this famous nephew of yours?’

Felix smiled, somewhat nervously and called up the stairs.  Klaus came down moments later, wrapped in a woolly dressing robe.  A small plane sat in his grasp.   Armin Dreyer studied him intently. 

‘This is Mr. Dreyer, Klaus.’

‘Hello.’

‘I have to say my friend, he has your eyes.’

Felix thanked him with a nod.

‘So, Klaus, you like planes?’

‘Yes.  Some.’

‘Some?’

‘He doesn’t like the paint on the spitfires,’ Felix interjected with a gentle smile.

‘Would you like to see some real life photographs of some planes?  I promise, no scary ones.’ 

Klaus approved and plodded over to where the two men sat.  Felix watched on with a careful stare, hoping that the smell of polish wouldn’t be too noticeable.  From inside his satchel Armin retrieved a fairly thin book and rested it upon his lap.  He flicked to the first page and ran his finger across a paragraph of cluttered words.  Klaus followed the verse with his ears, paying more attention to the slender aircraft that ballooned above the shelter of a gloomy hangar.  He turned the page and a large smile set over Klaus’s face. 

‘Ah,’ Armin said, realising the instant approval, ‘the Heinkel HE 100, an excellent example of the latest and most daringly designed German aircraft.  How would you like to soar above your schoolyard in this Klaus, waving at all of your friends?’

Felix watched Armin Dreyer the way a mother hen watched a devious snake approach her young.  There was something very sinister about the man.  His hair was pushed back in long straight flounces and hummed of a glossy wax. 

‘You see Klaus, when you become part of the military, you will fear nothing and nobody.  Our enemies, they will be the ones cowering under the nose of your spitfire.’

Klaus glanced at Felix.  His eyes wide with hope.  To sell the hero card to a child was a simple task.   

When the clock struck seven, Armin Dreyer checked his watch and stretched slightly to announce his departure.

‘It was nice seeing you old friend,’ he said as Felix escorted him to the front door.  Klaus began to scuttle under their handshake when Armin placed a hand on his shoulder.

‘And it was a pleasure to meet you, Klaus.’  Slipping his hand away from Felix’s cold palm, Armin approached the crown of Klaus’s hair in an attempt to ruffle the lustreless mane of jet black. 

‘Wait!’  Felix yelled.

Two pairs of wide eyes glared at his sudden outburst and he grinned tensely before laughing it off.

‘I’m afraid I’ve misplaced your card from earlier, could I trouble you for another?’

Nodding with a shallow superstition Armin Dreyer fetched a small rectangle from his jacket pocket and handed it over, his band of frail fingers far away from discovering the Kalb’s secret. 

Bounding up each step Klaus disappeared upstairs.

‘A fine looking boy,’ concluded Armin, ‘I’m sure his name alone will get him far in our programme.’

‘With all due respect Armin, my Grandson is only a child.  He is not ready to be told about war.’

‘Then you’d better educate him quickly my friend.  War is already upon us.’

‘Still, I must digress...’

‘I understand, I understand,’ Armin huffed, ‘just a warning, the youth are the future.  And one day they will be called upon, mark my words.’

Felix waved him off into the night.  The evening had fallen into a starry darkness.  His back met the frame of the door and he slid down until he hit the carpet below.  A pair of sweat stained hands clapped over his tired eyes. 

‘Opa?’

‘Yes Klaus.’

‘Can I wash my hair now?’

‘Of course you can,’ Felix chuckled,
his heart still in his mouth, ‘of course.’

THE MIDNIGHT CLUB

He veered the corner, this time with speed.  The throttle revved and he zoomed past the curb and towards the end of the street where he took a sharp left.  The Harley felt smooth tonight, almost purring across the empty roads of Stuttgart.  He pinched at the brakes and rolled to a halt into a narrow passage, just beyond a brown stretch of picket fence.  Klaus glanced up at her window and unzipped his jacket, taking out a small rubber ball from his inside pocket.  With a quick glance behind his shoulder he thrust the ball, grinning as it pinged off the windowpane and disappeared into the shrubbery of garden below.  The curtains moved and a silhouette acknowledged his arrival before vanishing into the shadows.  Klaus pushed a bundle of golden hair away from his brow and took another look over his shoulder.

‘Can I help you?’

‘Oh,’ Klaus said, startled,

‘I was looking for Elsie, do you know if she’s around?’

The girl leant over the veranda and shrugged.  Her hair was thick and carried in the wind. 

‘It depends.’

‘On?’

‘On who’s asking of course...’

Klaus smiled and looked up towards the darkened windows of the house.

‘Well, it appears I have the wrong address.  Sorry for wasting your time.’  He slid away the stand and rattled the keys without turning them.

‘Now you mention it, you do look familiar,’ the girl rushed.

‘You got me,’ Klaus said candidly, ‘we’ve got a few classes together.  I actually sit behind you in literature.  I’m a little ashamed to admit I’ve copied your work a few times, much to my tutor’s disappointment.’

‘Meaning?’ the girl whispered, her smile falling between two shallow dimples. 

‘My grades slipped slightly but don’t worry, I don’t blame you.’

Elsie shook her head.

‘You’re late,’ she beamed, hopping down from the veranda.  Klaus watched her.  He found himself entirely in awe of her perfect grace.  She swept onto the back of the motorcycle and wrapped her arms around his waist.  Setting up the stand, Klaus edged the bike forwards with the heel of his boots before snapping at the ignition and trundling off into the darkness. 

There was something strangely wonderful about riding through the vacant streets at midnight.  For that short cruise, it felt as though he and Elsie were the only souls awake.  For that moment, they were the only inhabitants of a secret and mysterious land.  Klaus swerved gently onto a stony path and dismounted, helping Elsie off from the back before wrapping his jacket around her shoulders.  They trekked up a grassy knoll and Klaus laid out a blanket for them to sit on.  Below them, sprinkled on a bank of slanted pasture sat a group of scattered coverlets, each occupied by a huddled pair.  A large screen lined the windowless wall of an abandoned factory.  With a sudden and unexpected blaze the screen came to life, casting the watchers within an artificial glow.  There was no sound.  Just the capital blocked title that soon dissolved into the blackness.  METROPOLIS, the same movie that had been shown two Tuesday’s running.

‘Herm needs to get some new material,’ Klaus demanded.

‘Not his fault,’ replied Elsie, ‘word has it they’ve installed a padlock on the projection room down at the
Lumineer.

~ Quick Note ~

The Lumineer
was
a movie theatre that could be found on the other side of town.  Oh and Herm, Herm happened to be the assistant projectionist who had a strong tendency to borrow a reel or two.     

‘So how’s your Grandfather?’ Elsie whispered.

‘Not bad.  He spends more time in the shed than he used to.  Since he sold the shop he’s been working on bikes in there pretty much every night.  It’s a mystery how he hasn’t ever caught me taking Harley out.’

‘Father went down to her grave a day or two ago.  Put some flowers down.’

‘Opa would be happy to hear that.’ 

‘Tell me the truth, Klaus.  It’s just you and me.  You know I wouldn’t tell my Father anything we spoke about.’

‘No, I know.’

‘So what’s going on?’

‘I don’t know Elsie.  I don’t know if it’s Grandma or something else.  He just doesn’t seem himself these days.’

Klaus took his eyes away from the jittering screen and pulled a clump of grass away from the ground beside him.

‘Would it help if Father spoke to him?’

Klaus shot her a look.

‘Okay, okay.  Sorry!’

She gave a perfect smile.  The silver reflection of the big screen sparkled within her gorgeous blue eyes.

‘Whatever it is, he’ll figure it out.’

He looked up at the curtain of black and white.

‘You know, sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night.  And I go to my bedroom window, looking out towards the shed.  I think about taking the Harley and following the moon, just drive all night long.’

‘So why don’t you?’

‘Because the moon doesn’t last forever.  The sun has to come up eventually.’

‘But wouldn’t you miss me?’

He thought about kissing her.  But with great restraint he didn’t.  He just stared, wondering how someone so close to him could be so magnificently flawless.  He pulled her close and her head nestled into his chest.  With regret he looked up towards the moon, marvelling in the possibility that one day it might own the skies.  Forever. 

THE DECEPTION

The sidewalks were hidden beneath a torrent of restless feet.  A parade moved through the streets, a procession led by the gargantuan flutter of a blood red flag.  The growing hordes began to throw chains of flowers into the path of marching footsteps, only to see them trampled upon moments later.  Families jostled under doorways and hugged against one another as they leant over their balconies, pointing down at the rallying band of soldiers.  The jubilance seemed infectious.  Klaus edged past a flock of shoulders and scrambled toward the front of the crowd.  With a final nudge he slipped into the street.  Two lines strode in perfect symmetry, their eyes hidden beneath the low perch of each black helmet, their rifles cradled firmly within their palms.  They saluted the skies.  Klaus studied them as they filed by, watching every faultless stride.  A trundle kicked in the distance causing the onlookers to turn.  The slow growl of a tank approached.  A flag flicked over the sandy white vessel like a giant mast.  Silent whispers became high pitched whistles and the cold chill was forgotten as the audience began to clap.  Behind the steel plate of the turret sat a blurry maroon uniform.  He waved to the crowds, basking in the warmth of their continuing ovation.  Klaus looked around and saw a huddle of his school friends.  Barging through the waves of applauding townspeople he emerged beside the shrill cheers of his classmates and slapped a hand upon the shoulder of Dennis Faber.

‘Enjoying the show?’