The Cowards (28 page)

‘Would you like to go for a swim?’ I asked.

‘Sure,’ said the sergeant and then so did all the rest of them. Just the idea of a swim seemed to pick them up.

‘Come on, then,’ I said, and headed towards the municipal pool in the loan association building. The door was open and
there stood Mr Vimler, the bank janitor and furnaceman, and the old lady who sold tickets.

‘Good morning,’ I said to them. They looked at me and said good morning.

‘These Englishmen here would like to go for a swim,’ I said.

The old lady looked at me uncertainly. ‘But they’re filthy!’ she said.

‘That’s just why they want to.’

‘Well, I don’t know …’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll tell them they’ll have to take showers first.’

‘And you’re going to pay for it?’

‘Well, no. I thought you’d be kind enough to let them in free?’

‘Free? Oh, we can’t have that.’

‘Why not?’

‘Well, because I would be held responsible.’

‘But look, these are Allied soldiers.’

‘Nobody’s told me anything.’

‘Why should anybody tell you anything?’

‘Well, because I’m in charge here.’

‘Now, look, I’ll make out a receipt for you stating that you allowed twenty English soldiers in for a swim and then you make out a bill for it, all right?’

‘I don’t know …’

‘Go ahead. Let ’em in, Mrs Maslova,’ said Mr Vimler.

‘There. You see,’ I said.

‘Oh, well, all right,’ said the old lady. ‘But you’ll have to write out a receipt for me.’

‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Come on in, boys. You can undress in the locker room and you’re supposed to shower before going into the pool.

The Englishmen filed in through the door. I led them into the big room where the old lady was already opening up the separate changing rooms one after another. You went in one side and the other door led out to the pool. I went out through to the pool. Shining through the tall frosted windows, the light made everything look clean and bright. The water in the pool looked green from the tiles at the bottom and the surface lay
smooth as glass. It was quiet there and empty and the light was pleasant. I stood by the window and leaned back against the wall, alone, while the Englishmen got undressed. I looked around the pool with its greenish light and memories started filtering in and I could see the place lit by evening light, the way it’d been on winter evenings during the war and there was Irena in a yellow bathing suit, and I could see her thighs, a bit flattened from the way she’d been squatting down before slipping down next to me, and Christ, they were lovely, and her knees and her firm little belly in that yellow bathing suit and her girlish shoulders and that red mouth and I watched her swimming, slender and nearly naked in the translucent water of the pool and then standing under the shower with a rubber cap on her head, stretching her arms, her suit glued to her body, and then going into the changing room and I knew that there, behind that white door, she was undressing and drying herself with a towel and I swam madly around the pool and suffered because I wanted her so. A long time ago, yet it had only been that winter. And now all that was over. Everything. And it would never be the same again because who could tell what would happen? We meet and we part and everything in life comes to an end, nothing lasts, and I felt like dying but then I thought supposing there’s a heaven after all, and me with all my sins, and that got me off on to heaven and I wondered what it was really like and whether people there were the same as here when they died, which would be pretty stupid because, as a rule, pretty girls like Irena live until they’re old and grey, but then I thought that in heaven everybody would have to look like they did when they were looking their best, which would make it quite a place to go, I thought. But then I wondered how things were arranged there when here on earth Irena went with Zdenek but in heaven, where people are supposed to be happy, would she go with me? But then Zdenek would be unhappy. But maybe Zdenek would go to hell or else maybe I would. Or maybe things are somehow secretly organized so everybody in heaven can go with whoever he wants to. For instance, Irena would somehow be split up into two Irenas. Only then it occurred to me that
she’d have to be divided into at least five because I knew of at least five guys who are crazy about her. But I didn’t much like that idea. I was dead set against her being all split into pieces. I wanted to have her all to myself and Zdenek and all the others could just go to hell instead. And suddenly a door opened and out came one of the Englishmen, naked and hairy, and he looked around the pool curiously.

‘There. The showers!’ I called to him and pointed them out to him.

‘Thanks!’ he said and by now others were already coming out and running towards the showers.

The place echoed with yells and laughter. I looked at all those naked, wet bodies and just then right in front of me a short, naked fellow clambered out of the pool. He had tremendously broad shoulders, narrow hips, and a farmer’s beard and he grinned at me and said happily, ‘Wonderful feeling. Five years is a long time.’

He stood there in front of me and started slapping himself over all his body, then laughed, turned, and his white backside flashed in front of me as he dived back into the water. All over the pool naked men were racing around, giggling and laughing and romping like kids. I saw one funny little bowlegged guy tramping around the edge of the pool towards me and thought it must be the sergeant. It was. He told me it was really wonderful and he’d missed being able to swim for five years, and then the tall one came over to tell me the same thing – the one with the gaunt face. But it was only his face that was so thin. Otherwise he had the build of a wrestler. A really fierce sight, with a big red scar on his chest. I watched them all and it was strange to see. It made you think about what they’d been through and where they’d go from here and what else they’d have to live through and it made me feel sad again. Then I heard someone calling me. It was the little old lady from the ticket office. She was leaning out the window of her booth, taking a sidelong glance at all those naked men. I went over to the window.

‘Now then, write me out that receipt, young man,’ she said and handed me a piece of paper and a pencil. I thought a while,
listened to the splashing and laughing behind me that filled the whole pool, and then wrote:
‘This is to certify that on May 8, 1945, twenty soldiers of the British Army swam free of charge in the municipal pool.’

I signed it and handed the paper back to the old lady. She read it, glanced over at the pool again, then shut her window. I turned and watched them for a little while. Finally the little sergeant climbed up to the diving board and bellowed something in such an ear-shattering voice that, coming from a bandylegged and nearly-old-man’s body like his, seemed incredible and suddenly all those who were still in the water scrambled out and rushed off to the changing rooms. I went out and sat down on a bench out in the lobby. It was empty and quiet. I used to wait there for Irena and she’d always come out, scrubbed and pink in her blue coat with the white fur collar. Well, that was all over now. And on the wide staircase with its rubber matting there was always a flock of Kostelec matrons coming from their steam baths and massages personally supervised by Mr Repa, a professional masseur, who I was later assigned to assist at the Messerschmidt factory and whose hands looked like a butcher’s and they always reminded me of the fat bodies of those women swaddled in white sheets and I could see Mr Repa’s hands, tattooed with a heart and an anchor, mercilessly and with sadistic delight kneading away at those doughy bellies and thighs and buttocks. A limp palm tree stood at the foot of the stairs and the light coming through the frosted glass had a warm glow. The tub baths were upstairs where Prema used to go with Benda to look at the girls because at the top of one of the compartments you could slip out a pane of that frosted glass so they took turns crawling along the concrete beam at the top and taking a peek.

The door of one of the changing rooms opened and a fellow came out in a beard and wearing an Australian sombrero. I saw it was the big-shouldered guy who’d got such a kick out of the pool. He grinned at me. Then the others started coming out. They looked refreshed and were in a fine mood. I got up and led them out. The street was in shadow but the rooftops stood out bright in the sun. It was a real spring day. I wondered
where we should go now. Then I noticed Mr Moutelik’s shop on the other side of the street. His sign hadn’t been touched since Haryk had painted it over on Saturday.

‘Wait here for me,’ I told the sergeant, and walked into the shop. Nobody was there, not even a salesgirl today, just Mrs Moutelikova at the cash register. She was wearing big pearl earrings and her hair looked fresh out of curlers.

‘Good morning, ma’am,’ I said.

‘Hello, Danny,’ she said. ‘What can we do for you?’

‘Well, I’ve got a little problem, ma’am,’ I said, feeling my way.

‘Oh? What is it?’

‘Well, I’ve taken charge of a few Englishmen, you see, and I have to find a place for them to stay for a few days, and you know how Englishmen are,’ I said shyly, ‘always want to have a bath, can’t stand to be dirty, and I wouldn’t want to make them stay in an emergency barrack or anything like that.’

‘Of course not, Danny. How many do you have to take care of?’

‘That depends, ma’am, on how many you think you could take.’

‘For how long?’ she asked cautiously.

‘Oh, just for a couple of days. Until we can put them on a train to Prague.’

‘Aha. Would four be all right?’

‘It certainly would.’

‘Well … it’s a pleasure to be of assistance.’

‘Thank you very much, ma’am.’

‘You’re quite welcome. We’ve got to do our part. After all, they’re our liberators.’

‘Absolutely, ma’am. Thank you.’ I would have loved to see what would have happened if I’d brought her four Mongolians with walrus moustaches, thanked her again and went on my way. I still had twelve left. We started down Jirasek Boulevard towards the station. The colourful crowds still kept coming towards us. They poured along the street in a cloud of dust and among them I saw various people I knew wearing white and red-and-white armbands. The crowd was still mainly green-uniformed
Soviets, but I saw a couple of guys in khaki uniforms, too, with
NEDERLAND
on their shoulder patches. Then a cluster of gipsy-looking Italians and some Frenchmen in blue uniforms. But I had my Englishmen – the pick of the whole crop, I thought. I was looking at all those different faces as we pushed against the tide and suddenly bumped into Benno and his sister Evka.

‘Hi, Benno,’ I said.

‘Greetings,’ said Benno.

‘Hello there, Evka.’

‘Hello.’

‘Why didn’t you show up yesterday?’ said Benno.

‘I was feeling lousy.’

‘You’re always feeling lousy.’

‘Maybe so. Look, Benno, could you do me a favour?’

‘What?’

‘Could you take in a couple of Englishmen over at your house?’

‘You mean they’re English?’ Evka asked, looking at my troop with obvious interest now.

‘Yes. You can talk to them if you want to,’ I said, feeling like a barker at a sideshow. Evka smiled at the Englishmen and I looked at them and they were all scrubbed and refreshed now and they were all grinning at Evka.

‘How do you do?’ said Evka in English.

‘How d’you do?’ they said in chorus.

Evka smiled and didn’t know how to say what she wanted to say next.

‘Take them with you,’ I said.

‘Yeah, all right. But not all of ’em,’ said Benno.

‘How many?’

‘Well … what do you say, Evka?’

‘Well … about … about five, I’d say – all right?’

‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Sergeant, five men with this beautiful girl.’

‘As you wish, sir!’ said the sergeant and grinned. He turned to his bunch of men and barked out the names of five men. One by one they stepped forward and saluted Evka, and Evka shook hands with them. I felt proud of myself. They’d better be
grateful, I thought – with me, like an angel of peace, providing them with deluxe accommodations, with beautiful young matrons and girls, after all those years of deprivation and hardship. I turned to Benno.

‘You going to be home this afternoon, Benno?’

‘Yeah. Come on over.’

‘I will. Any news from the brewery?’

‘We’ve got to be there tomorrow.’

‘Why?’

‘They put up an announcement that anybody who enlisted who doesn’t turn up tomorrow will be treated as a deserter.’

‘Honest?’

‘Honest.’

‘That’s stupid.’

‘They’re stupid’

‘Are you going?’

‘What can I do? We’re in a big enough mess as it is.’

‘You mean on account of Sunday?’

‘Well, Sunday’s enough, isn’t it?’

‘Oh, that wasn’t so bad.’

‘Don’t kid yourself.’

‘Well, we’ll see. So I’ll come over this afternoon, right?’

‘Right.’

‘So long then. Good-bye, Evka,’ I said.

‘ ’Bye,’ Evka said to me. She was already chattering away with her Englishmen.

‘Have fun,’ I said with a small smile that was half leer.

‘I’ll try,’ she said.

‘So long,’ said Benno.

We left them and turned off to the left and took the path that leads around behind the spinning mill. I thought I’d take them to the expensive residential part of town where Mrs Heiserova lived. To the left, the castle rose high above us, its red cupolas gleaming in the sun and a flag fluttering against the blue sky, while below off to the right the spinning mill sprawled, with its fire reservoir whose oily water made splotchy rainbows out of the sun, and then the endless rows of warehouses which made the place look even more desolate
than usual – the barred windows crusted with dust, the pointless Renaissance ornaments writhing on grimy towers, the big gravel yard, the abandoned freightcars standing on a siding. The whole plant was surrounded by an iron fence which curved off in the direction of the workers’ district, and on the slope below the castle the villas and mansions of the mill’s directors and assistant directors caught the full slant of the sun. Mr Heiser was the general director and his house stood in the middle of a huge garden crisscrossed by sanded paths. It was a big two-storey house with a big balcony and a glassed-in sunporch at one corner and the garage doors underneath it were green. We stopped at the gate. Vines arched overhead, and I pushed the doorbell under the brass nameplate with the inscription, A
RNOLD
H
EISER
, G
ENERAL
D
IRECTOR
, U
NITED
T
EXTILE
W
ORKS
I
NC
., and we waited. The mansion shimmered against the green hillside and my Englishmen stared at it with open mouths. Then a voice came through the speaker by the gate.