The Tower: A Novel (8 page)

‘How on earth can you stand it with him, Richard?’ Weniger hissed through his teeth. ‘The slimy devious bastard.’

‘Manfred.’ Richard raised his hand to calm him down.

‘Oh, leave it. Goes around like Lord Muck. “We had a collection, we bought the picture.” – Shall I tell you something: he didn’t lift a finger. The idea came from your senior nursing officer, and it was Wernstein who put his back into it. That’s how it was. Then the Herr Professor came along once the matter was taking shape and took everything under his aegis.’

‘Forget it,’ said Clarens. ‘We mustn’t let him spoil this splendid meal for us.’

A look of determination flashed across Weniger’s face. ‘I’ve got another one. How can you work out the points of the compass with a banana? Place it on the Wall. The end that gets bitten off is pointing east.’

When everyone was sitting down, Müller proposed a toast. Christian and Ezzo were not the only ones to set about the food ravenously;
to get it all together Anne and Richard had had to start months ago, spending a fortune in the Delikat shops. And without his secretary’s brother, who drove special consignments of fruit, including citrus and tropical fruits, to supply Berlin, they would have had to make do with the two sorts of apples that were available in a normal greengrocer’s: brown, too-sour Boskoop and green, too-sweet Golden Delicious. In exchange for the loin steaks, the ground meat for meatballs and hamburgers and the beef for the kebabs from Vogelsang’s, the butcher’s, Richard had had to sacrifice one of the two sets of snow chains Alice and Sandor had given him two years ago. The Felsenburg restaurant had made the least contribution to the buffet: just the kitchen, crockery and premises had been made available for the party.

Most of the guests left around eight. The official part of the birthday celebrations was over. Frau Müller put away the few recipes Anne had written down and attempted a smile that looked to Christian like an attempt at an apology. Adeling and the other waiter brought hats and coats, helped the ladies put them on. The guests who remained took advantage of the break to stretch their legs a bit.

The seating plan was abandoned. Some chairs were moved over to the stove. The surplus crockery and cutlery was taken away, the flowers – with Meno’s roses a red magnet among them – were placed beside the table with the presents.

Outside, Christian helped his father and a couple of junior doctors push Müller’s Opel Kapitän to get it started and out of the snowdrifts. The professor himself was pushing, at the front, on the passenger side. ‘Take your foot off, Edeltraut, take your foot off,’ he shouted as the wheels started to spin.

‘We’re pushing, Herr Professor; you give us the command, Herr Doktor Hoffmann.’

‘You’re learning, Herr Wernstein. Always delegate responsibility,’ Richard replied with a laugh. ‘Right then: heave-ho,
one – two – three – and away she goes. Watch out, Christian, you’re standing by the exhaust –’

Müller jumped in and the car slithered off.

‘Hope you have a quiet day at work tomorrow, Manfred. So long, Hans, hope you get home OK. And thanks a lot for everything.’ Richard shook Weniger and Clarens by the hand as their wives said goodbye to Anne. With astonishment the two men realized they were both wearing the same winter coat from VEB Herrenmode.

‘They had them on Tuesday, my wife got it for me.’

‘Mine too, queued for five hours. I wasn’t supposed to get it until Christmas, but my old one was worn out.’

‘How are you two getting home, Hans? Can we give you a lift?’

Delighted, Clarens nodded.

Christian was freezing and went inside. Kurt Rohde, Meno and Niklas were standing in the foyer listening to Herr Adeling: ‘– by Kokoschka, I assure you, I’m certain of that. The chambermaid who used to look after the guests told me herself … She kept a record of her tips in a notebook, with the sums the guests gave, and I saw Herr Professor Kokoschka’s tips, they were some of the biggest. It’s one of the Herr Professor’s easels, yes, he left it to the hotel in memory of the many nights he spent here and naturally we treasure it, yes indeed.’ He looked up, rocked on his heels, the chalk-white napkin over his arm, casting a severe eye over one of the younger of the waiters who were still tidying up or clearing away.

‘Interesting, very interesting what you’ve told us there.’ Niklas had taken out his pipe and was filling it with vanilla tobacco from Meno’s pouch. Matches flared up; Meno had filled his pipe too, a different one this time, a short, broad one made of some purplish-brown wood. Kurt Rohde had lit one of his cheroots. ‘And you’ve never had any problems with it? I mean, I’m sure this easel is very valuable and there are perhaps people interested in it, people who would like to see it somewhere else, rather than here in your hotel …’ Kurt Rohde said, puffing away
at his cigar. Adeling raised his eyebrows and gave him a suspicious look. ‘No, we haven’t had any problems so far and we at the Felsenburg Hotel would be very grateful for your discretion in this matter. If you would now excuse me …’ Adeling fluttered off.

‘You played beautifully, my lad. Come here and give me a squeeze, we haven’t said hello properly yet.’ Christian embraced his grandfather, who had taken his cheroot out and was holding it well to one side. Kurt Rohde was shorter than his grandson, and Christian leant down a little so his grandfather could kiss him on the forehead. He furrowed his brow – not because he was uncomfortable at being kissed by his grandfather but so that the pimples would disappear in the furrows. His grandfather’s familiar smell: his hair, combed back straight, still thick and full despite his sixty-nine years and only white at the temples, and the skin under his trimmed beard smelt of eau de Cologne, the coarse material of his suit of tobacco and naphthalene.

‘Christian, Anne would like us to give him the barometer now, once we’re all back inside,’ Meno said between two puffs on his pipe. ‘Would you be so good as to get things ready?’ Christian, sensing that he was in the way, nodded and went back into the restaurant, where Ezzo, Reglinde and Robert were busy at the buffet again, Ezzo and Robert smacking their lips and rolling their eyes with pleasure.

‘Where’s your clock-grandfather?’ Reglinde asked as she chewed.

‘Since he and Emmy got divorced they’ve come to an agreement: he doesn’t want to be where she is and vice versa.’

‘Oh. Have you seen Ina?’

‘Perhaps she’s gone to the loo. Fantastic dress she’s wearing.’

‘We made it at the Harmony. Barbara helped, of course.’

Christian could picture the little furrier’s on Rissleite, the glassed door, the paint peeling from exposure to the elements; it had become a tradition in the spring and summer, when the furs for the winter were delivered, for the children of the district to gather there and ask for the scraps that were left over after the furs had been made up. They
collected the scraps and once they had collected enough, their mothers made them into warm jerkins, mittens and caps.

‘Actually, she had intended to wear it the first time for the college of education’s end-of-term ball. Did you see? The doctors on the other side of the table had their eyes popping out.’

Christian shrugged. Reglinde, who was studying to be an organist and choirmaster, told him news from the college for church music, but Christian was only half listening. He was still cold, he put his hands in the pockets of his best suit – Richard had passed it on because it had grown too tight for him – but took them out again when he remembered that it was impolite to stand there like that. He was embarrassed. When he looked at Reglinde for too long, her eyes strayed away from his and ran over his untidily combed, light-brown hair and its cowlicks and, when he smiled, the dimples in his cheeks – his bad skin. She had Gudrun’s high, beautifully domed forehead, also her delicate, translucent though not pale skin with the blue veins visible; her cheeks and mouth came from Niklas. Her natural chestnut ringlets, which she kept short, were not typical of the Tietzes, who, like the Rohdes, all had fairly dark, straight hair. People who didn’t know the family always took Robert for Ezzo’s brother – apart from his eyes, Robert was much closer in appearance to the Rohdes than to Christian.

Reglinde, probably sensing his embarrassment, concluded the conversation and went over to join Ina, who was waving to her from the doorway.

Christian went over to the table with the birthday presents. Meno had not only made a contribution to the cost of the barometer but had also given Richard – so that was what had been in the parcel – a record: Beethoven’s late quartets, by the Amadeus String Quartet. Beside it was the gift from Ulrich Rohde and his family, a book. Christian read the title page: Bier / Braun / Kümmell:
Chirurgische Operationslehre
, edited by F. Sauerbruch and V. Schmieden, Johann Ambrosius Barth, Leipzig, 1933. He knew the book, a well-preserved antiquarian edition
with many coloured illustrations; it had always had a special place in his uncle’s library, for it was the famous edition of a famous book and, on top of that, had handwritten dedications by Sauerbruch and Schmieden; Richard always admired it and held it in his hands with a certain envy when they visited the Italian House. Ulrich Rohde had a large collection of such books.

Grandfather Rohde had given his father an odd present: an egg-shaped stone, about the size of a person’s head, that stood in the hollow of a smoothly polished wooden cube.

‘Careful if you pick it up, it’s sawn through in the middle,’ he suddenly heard Meno say beside him. ‘It’s called a druse or a geode, they’re found like that in the rock. Be careful, it’s valuable.’

Crystals glittering blue, crimson and purple, prisms, such as Christian was familiar with from rock crystal, arranged close together; some as long as his little finger and so precisely formed they seemed shaped by human hand.

‘That’s an amethyst,’ Meno said, the blue and purple reflections of the crystals flitting to and fro across his eyes.

Emmy had contributed to the barometer and Christian had heard about the Tietzes’ present from Ezzo, it was at home in Caravel: one of Niklas’s lovely nickel-plated stethoscopes from St Petersburg.

‘And what are the two of you looking at? My God, Gudrun, and people talk about the impoverished East,’ Barbara broke in, drumming on the table with her gaudily painted fingernails. ‘What d’you think of Ina’s dress? We got her hairstyle from one of Wiener’s magazines, you can forget what’s in ours. Should I arrange an appointment there for you?’

‘I went to the hairdresser’s yesterday, Barbara. To Schnebel’s.’

‘To be perfectly honest, Gudrun, I’m afraid you can tell. Send Reglinde round some time – her measurements are about the same as Ina’s and no one can have anything against more attractive funeral hymns.’

‘The
success of a dress is measured by the number of proposals a woman receives, as Eschschloraque says in his latest play. A bit sexist, I mean, for God’s sake, Barbara, but we’re putting it on just at the moment. And Ina is getting to the age when off-the-shoulder is a bit risky.’

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.’