I Love You Billy Langley, page 12
‘Opi!’ Netta tried to scold him, but Billy seemed unfazed.
‘Well,’ he parried, ‘as I try to tell my father, we’re not enemies any more, are we, sir.’
‘But your father’s generation is still in charge of your country. As is hers of ours,’ he said with a disdainful nod towards Netta.
‘Yeah. And if my father had his way I wouldn’t even be allowed to court Netta.’
‘Ah,’ Gerhard darted a triumphant look at Netta, who fixed her gaze on the bread. ‘He has warned you off her, has he? He might be that rare breed, a wise Englishman, after all.’ He wiped his mouth and got up from his seat. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me—’
But Billy wasn’t finished with him. ‘Well, he doesn’t see her, really, I mean. My dad, he just sees some Nazi when he looks at Netta, not who she really is. But he’ll come around, he’ll have to get used to her, coz I don’t plan on leaving Netta just coz of what some old codger believes, even if he is family.’
Netta’s eyes widened and she looked up, at once fearful and bursting with pride at Billy’s words. Gerhard pursed his lips and she wasn’t sure for a moment if her grandfather was about to launch a tirade of abuse in Billy’s direction. But his eyes shone with something like amusement, even admiration, perhaps, and he nodded sharply and said, ‘Well, I can’t stand around idly chatting all day. Some of us have work to do. I’m off to the courthouse.’
‘So remind me of their names again!’ Billy said as they approached the coffee house in Dortmund, Netta leading Billy by the hand like a child to avoid the trams and the cars as they crossed the street, Billy yet to get used to which side of the road people drove on here.
‘Felix is the shorter one with dark hair. Anton is fair and tall. Sophie wears glasses and Anna—’
‘So this must be the boyfriend!’ Anna’s voice stopped Netta in her tracks as they came to the door of the coffee shop.
‘Anna!’
‘Don’t be so surprised to see me. You invited me.’
‘I know but I said noon.’
‘And it is noon.’
‘Exactly! You’re never on time.’
‘Well, there are some events in this world that are just too rare to miss. A total eclipse, Halley’s comet. And Netta with a boyfriend – an English one at that.’ She turned and dangled her hand in front of Billy as if she were an Empress who expected her ring to be kissed and said in English, ‘Pleased to meet you. I am Anna.’
Billy grabbed her hand and shook it which was not a graceful motion since it was in such an unusual position to be shook. ‘I’m Billy. Are you Anna, by any chance?’
He grinned.
Anna beamed.
Netta scowled.
‘I like his clothes. Very elegant,’ Anna said, smoke curling from her nose, as she sat with Anton and Felix on one side of the table.
Netta, who sat opposite them with Billy and Sophie, wasn’t sure she liked them studying her boyfriend like an exhibit in a museum, though she agreed Billy did look fine in the same mohair suit he had worn to the seafront that day of the troubles with the rockers.
‘Seems a bit tight to me. A bit feminine even,’ Felix said looking down at his own loose fitting shirt and trousers as if to make sure he was still as ‘masculine’ as he looked in the mirror this morning.
‘Oh please, Felix,’ Anna sighed, ‘we all know you’re never going to be gracious to anyone Netta is courting.’
‘Yes,’ Anton chirped. ‘I think he looks very smart.’
‘And we all know what you’re thinking with, don’t we, Anton,’ Felix said dropping his fist off the table into Anton’s crotch.
As the two lads tussled Netta called out across the table. ‘Excuse me, he is right here you know. How about talking to him rather than about him?’
‘Well, does he speak German?’ Felix grumbled.
‘No, and you know that, otherwise you wouldn’t be being so rude right in front of him,’ Netta said.
‘Well, then how does he expect to converse?’
‘Use your English. Don’t pretend you have none.’
‘OK,’ Felix said, sat back, took a breath and said in clear English to Billy, ‘Winston Churchill: hero or warmongering villain responsible for the needless massacre of countless German civilians as well as thousands of British soldiers? Discuss.’
‘Oh for God’s sake!’
‘Felix!’
It was Felix’s turn to be punched in the crotch as everyone scolded him; everyone except Billy, and Sophie, of course, who remained quietly thoughtful. Netta was aware of Billy silently looking daggers at Felix and she stroked his thigh as you might to try and calm an agitated dog while Felix smirked, content with the furore he had created.
‘What did you think of the film?’ Netta asked Billy as they tumbled out of the cinema amid a crowd of excited and relieved young adults.
‘I loved it,’ Billy grinned, blinking at the December sun now low in the sky.
‘Me too,’ Anton said. ‘Even better than his last film.’
‘Scary as hell!’ Billy went on, ‘And it seemed even scarier coz it was in German, you know—’ He stopped himself and Netta wasn’t sure she wanted to know what he meant by that last comment, so instead she just focused on Anton who continued to recount his favourite moments from the film to Billy.
Netta had spent most of the film prising Anna’s petrified fingernails out of her arm and looking just below the screen, so the horrific events unfolding above were not imprinted on her brain forever. However, now she was simply happy to see Anton and Billy grinning at each other, having shared an experience, finding common ground.
‘Well, I will never get those two hours of my life back,’ Felix grumbled to Anna. ‘It wasn’t exactly Robert Weine, was it?’ he said in German, then switched to English so Billy would be sure to hear him say, ‘I prefer something more intellectual, but I am sure it was perfect for Billy.’
Netta slipped her arm through Billy’s and hurried him towards the car before he could react.
‘All back to Netta’s then?’ Anton called out.
‘I don’t know why I bother to look this good if we end up in your dingy cellar every time we go out,’ Anna sighed as she reached the car. Then she turned to Billy and said in smouldering English, ‘What do you want, Billy?’
‘Beg your pardon?’ Billy seemed a little flustered.
Netta elucidated. ‘She means what do you want to do – stay out in town or go back to mine?’
‘Oh, I don’t mind, whatever the majority wants to do.’
‘Spoken like a true democrat,’ Felix smiled insincerely and patted Billy on the shoulder.
‘Yes of course I am,’ Billy said, brushing off his suit jacket. ‘What are you? A Nazi?’
‘Billy!’ Netta cried out.
Felix nodded smugly, as if he’d finally succeeded in revealing the true colours of Netta’s new beau.
‘Well,’ Billy protested, ‘He’s had it in for me since the beginning.’
‘Now, now, children, play nicely!’ Anna said. ‘Both of you in the back. I’ll have to sit between you to make sure there’s no misbehaving.’
‘And who’s going to sit between you and Billy to make sure there’s no misbehaving there?’ Anton said as Sophie sat on his lap in the front passenger seat.
Netta could barely concentrate on the road home as her eyes kept searching the rear-view mirror for Anna and Billy and the lack of space between them.
Anna insisted on putting some Beatles on the record player first.
‘Do you know them?’ she asked Billy.
‘Who?’
‘The Beatles.’
Billy was speechless.
Anton cackled, ‘Why would he know them, you silly cow? Do you think Billy knows everyone in England?’
‘Well,’ Anna blushed, ‘He sort of looks a bit like them, you know, his clothes and his hair, so I was sort of thinking that perhaps…’ Anton was dancing around Anna copying her garbled attempt to excuse herself. ‘Oh, fuck off, you!’ she concluded.
‘I love these beer barrel tables,’ Billy said.
‘Felix and I did that,’ Anton said.
‘Oh, nice job,’ Billy said raising a glass gallantly to them both.
Felix raised his glass limply in return and muttered to Netta. ‘A carpenter, really, Net. Is that the best you could do?’
‘A caretaker, not a carpenter,’ she snapped, wondering why she found the idea of Billy being a carpenter so offensive. ‘And if you don’t like it you can always leave now, Felix.’
‘Sorry, sorry,’ he said raising his hands in surrender. ‘I’m being ungracious. I’m sure he’s a lovely, devoted chap. If you say so.’
And they both watched as Anna continued to flirt outrageously with Billy. Netta suddenly found Anna’s behaviour increasingly alarming and, after being so disappointed at the thought of Billy not wanting to socialise with her friends, she now wondered why Billy didn’t move away from Anna and spend more time with her, following her around dependently as he had done since they arrived in the country.
Her brooding was broken by the sight of her father coming down the stairs wearing an apron, his hands stuffed in the front pockets.
‘Don’t mind me!’ he said smiling at everyone. ‘I’m just in the next room.’ Then he said with a wink in English for Billy’s benefit, ‘Some surgery to attend to.’
Netta saw Billy scan her father’s apron; saw him notice the spatters of blood on it as well as on his forearms. He returned Max’s smile weakly and went noticeably pale.
As the party went on Netta watched Billy edge closer and closer to the door to the adjoining room, through which her father had gone. In the silences between records she saw him flinch as great bone-cracking thuds reached them through the wall. Eventually, the urge to find out just what kind of surgery this doctor was involved in was overwhelming and he shuffled through to the next room, believing he was unseen by the others, dancing and chatting as they were.
The next room in the basement was very similar to the party room in its rough, unadorned appearance, except there was a long table instead of beer barrels in front of which Max stood with his back to Billy hacking away at the raw, pink corpse lying on it. Billy gasped audibly and Max turned around. Before Billy could be seen by the killer and end up on the table himself, he slipped out of the room and straight into Netta’s arms who had been watching him the whole time.
‘Billy, what’s wrong?’ she laughed. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
‘Oh, no, no. I didn’t see anything. I just need to, erm…’
‘Billy! Come on. I thought you loved all that blood and gore,’ Netta said feeling strangely sadistic as she dragged Billy back into the room where her father was dismembering the corpse. ‘Don’t you want to watch how he does it?’
Billy looked to her as if he might either faint or begin trying to punch his way out of this house of horrors at any moment so she made sure quickly that he could see the surgery that her father was engaged in was merely the butchering of a pig in preparation for making all manner of her favourite dishes.
‘Bloody hell!’ Billy exhaled, partly in relief, partly in more terror at this new abomination.
Max smiled at Billy as he worked and Netta explained. ‘Some of Papa’s patients are farmers and they often pay for his house visits with whole pigs. We don’t have a freezer, but if we make sausages and terrines and such things they will keep in sterilised conditions for a long time.’ She gestured to the shelves with rows of jars waiting to be filled and Billy’s face looked to Netta just like Anna’s had earlier as she watched the evil protagonist on the big screen forcing bodies into enormous vats in his webbed laboratory.
‘What’s a terrine?’ Billy asked his mouth hanging open as he watched Max work.
‘It’s what we had for breakfast.’
‘The jelly thing?’
‘Yes. It’s flesh from the head of the pig pickled in the aspic.’
‘Oh God.’ Billy looked like he might vomit and Netta knew she shouldn’t be enjoying that, but she was, and if she was honest with herself she knew it was a vindictive enjoyment which had something to do with all the time he had spent with Anna that evening.
When Billy had seen enough, which was only seconds later, they went back to the party. Anton and Anna were busy trying to do the Mashed Potato to a Chris Montez song and Felix was sifting through the records mumbling about finding something decent to play. Sophie was sitting alone at one of the beer barrel tables, her drink hardly touched, smiling sweetly at Anton or Anna whenever they called her over to dance, with clearly no intention of joining them.
‘Is Sophie OK?’ Netta whispered to Felix as Anna collared Billy for another dance.
‘’Course. Why wouldn’t she be?’
‘She’s quiet tonight.’
‘When isn’t she quiet?’
‘I mean, she’s more quiet than usual.’
‘You know Sophie, she’s no doubt brewing up her latest gem to put us all in our place.’ And he shouted over to her, ‘Sophie! All right, Sophie?’
Netta gave Felix a discreet punch to shut him up but it was too late, all eyes were now on Sophie, who lifted up her face to them as she nodded just long enough so they could all see the sparkle from her tearful eyes.
Netta rushed over to her. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing. Nothing, I’m fine.’
‘You are not fine, my girl,’ Anton said, joining them. ‘Now, spit it out!’
‘It’s nothing really,’ she said flicking her eyes towards Billy, who Anna was doing her best to keep on the dancefloor.
‘Sophie?’ Netta said more sternly now, concerned that her friend’s tears had something to do with her boyfriend.
‘I was just… just thinking about my parents. But it’s OK, really.’
Anton’s turn to strike Felix, but there was nothing discreet about his punch. ‘Nice one, Felix, opening your big mouth again.’
‘What did I say?’ Felix whined.
Anton hissed quietly, ‘Going on about Churchill and the war when we were in the café.’
‘I didn’t say anything.’
‘You said enough. Clearly,’ he said gesturing to Sophie as Exhibit A.
‘You never speak about them,’ Netta said gently.
‘I hardly knew them,’ Sophie said. ‘I was a toddler at the time so I don’t remember much. I remember the shelters. Dortmund had a labyrinth of tunnels underground. Everyone had gone down there during the air raids, but we should have left as soon as the all-clear signal was given. Everyone felt safe and secure down there, so we stayed. But when the fires took hold after the bombing they spread so fast and people got lost in the smoke-filled tunnels looking for the way out. I remember the pushing and the squeezing and the hurrying and the shoving and the tripping. I remember the screaming and then the night sky full of fireworks – or that was how it seemed to me. And I remember this knocking, frantic knocking, the kind of knocking that could only be made by a hundred people at once. It stuck in my head that sound and it was years later that I read something that finally explained it.’
‘What was it?’
‘There was a women’s prison near the entrance to the shelter my uncle dragged me from. It was the sound of all the women locked in, banging their wooden slippers against their doors, begging to be let out as the building burned around them.’
Anton sighed, ‘Bloody hell.’
‘I couldn’t help but imagine my parents must have made a similar sound as they tried to get out of the tunnels.’
No one knew what to say.
‘Did you know,’ Sophie continued, ‘in one hour the British Air Force dropped twice the tonnage of bombs on Dortmund that the Luftwaffe dropped on all of England in the six months before that night. They rained down leaflets on us before the bombs. One of them had an aerial photograph of Hamburg looking like a charred skeleton of a city and the words Time for the destruction of Germany printed across it. The British certainly delivered on that promise. Didn’t they.’
As Netta and Anton hugged Sophie, Billy came over asking if she was all right.
‘She’s fine. It doesn’t concern you,’ snapped Felix.
‘No that’s right, Felix,’ Sophie said in a surprisingly steely tone. ‘It doesn’t concern him. He was a baby at the time. We were all babies at the time too. We had nothing to do with that war. And most of the population of England and Germany had nothing to do with that war, whether they fought in it or not. It wasn’t like they had a choice, was it? They were just pawns. Pawns of Hitler’s, pawns of Churchill’s. People just trying to survive. He might be British, but he had nothing to do with the war so kindly don’t use him as a pawn in your own schoolyard games, OK?’
‘There’s nothing bloody schoolyard about an intelligent debate on the political leaders of our—’
‘Oh fuck off, Felix, will you?’ Netta shouted.
And so he did.
14
It was Christmas Eve and everyone was banned from the living room while the angels and the baby Jesus went about decorating and arranging presents in there, just as they had done every year since Netta was a baby, so she decided to take Billy for a walk.
‘What about Santa Claus?’ Billy asked as Netta led him over the fields behind the house.
‘We don’t have Santa Claus. The baby Jesus delivers the presents on Christmas Eve. On the 6th of December we celebrate St Nikolaus.’
‘Who’s that?’ Billy said breathless with the effort of negotiating the frozen clods of ploughed earth in his Chelsea boots. He had told Netta that none of his own footwear was fit for a walk in the countryside, though Netta knew he was just worried about getting his mod shoes muddy.
Netta stopped and looked over the barren fields at the grey horizon as if the past was being shown to her there like a favourite movie. ‘We used to gather in the living room on the evening of the 6th and sing advent songs and read poems. Then there would be a loud knocking on the front door and we’d rush out to see a sleigh arriving in the snow drawn by horses. St Nikolaus would be on that sleigh dressed as a bishop with Knecht Ruprecht, his slave, dressed up as a chimney sweep, all black and dusty.’ She heard herself giggle like a child before she went on. ‘St Nikolaus would march into our living room with a golden book and a sack of presents. We would sit with big eyes in expectation of what gifts we might receive but we were also a bit frightened about how Knecht Ruprecht might punish us if we had not been good over the year. St Nikolaus would read out from his golden book all the good things we had done during the year and also remind us where we had to improve so Knecht Ruprecht would not be angry with us next year. Then he left the sack of presents and we waved him goodbye from our front door as he left on his sleigh. It was all so realistic. I wondered for many years how he knew all the things we had done over the year.’
