Part Five.

Aunt Mimi was still reeling from the cancellation of the fair, the Maloney brothers had been the prime suspects. Nothing could be proved, but this was always the topic of conversation when Aunt Mimi came to the lodge. In the intervening three weeks she had little else in the way of conversation, and I dreaded her visits. Part shame of my own making, the waste of precious food, the denial of the party to the children who had missed the childhood they were entitled to, mixed with a feeling of comeuppance dealt. She had been horrid to Klaus throughout his stay, and in some way I felt a justifiable level of pleasure from the trauma she had received. Like so many she was adept at administering stern proclamations of guilt, but not so ready to accept she too had failings.
We had just dispatched her from the front door, where she lingered still twittering about the fair, the shock, the shame when a rap came at the door again.

I swung it open expecting to see her still there, a sudden revelation prompting her to return.

There stood the officer who had entrusted me with Klaus's residency some months before. The moustache was a little fuller, all the rage at the time, matching mine, but apart from that he was the same. Instead of his file that held my signed paperwork he held a letter that he placed in my palm once pleasantries had been exchanged.

"This explains the repatriation plan for all prisoners. Your guest will soon be returning to Germany" he said, looking over my shoulder to Klaus, sat mute at the scullery table.

"I see" I replied, slowly, viewing the letter in my hand as poison, "well thank you for the letter, I shall attend to it shortly"

"Right you are, sir," he said, nodding curtly towards Klaus over my shoulder, and returning to me. I hoped he couldn't see my disparity. "I'll be off. Cheerio"

He turned and walked away, clicking the gate shut behind him. I closed the door, my hand on the brass handle too long. It was shaking.

I felt Klaus wrap his arms around my waist. I couldn't turn around, I didn't want him to see my face. I couldn't bear him seeing the desolation I felt sure was written across it. I felt his chin on my shoulder, his breath warm on my cheek, "we had expected this" was all he said.


**********************

The end had come quickly, just a week to prepare for his departure. Belongings were sparse, they would take minutes to pack. There were no rounds of friends to visit, bidding farewell, his Germanic accent limited his social circles to just myself really. For other prisoners in other homes, it would have been such a perfunctory day. However, for us, be were both losing the men we had come to love, as normal a feeling as any man has for a woman, but due to status, his sex and history no one could ever know. No one would ever know.
He was the one person I trusted wholeheartedly, an unequivocal feeling that we were a match, in outlook, humour, and beliefs, was here, in my life. And now he was being ripped from me. If Klaus had been English, and female, relatives would fawn over what a handsome couple we made, the perfect union. Aunt Mimi would be beside herself with joy. But now he was leaving. My life torn asunder.

As he had left, to hop aboard the truck taking him away, he turned to me at the door, clutching his small bag of belongings. The officer stood waiting at the gate, holding it open to lead my German away, coughed respectfully to hurry him along. I locked eyes with Klaus, my love, the only man I would ever cherish. Months of memories flooded through me, the passion, the kin ship, the feeling of meeting the one to spend eternity with.

The soldier at the gate caught my attention and I glanced at him briefly, his hand holding the gate wide to lead my man away. I looked back at Klaus, deep into his blue eyes. I could see the flurry of emotions in them, his heart breaking, his soul reaching out to mine.

The soldier shifted his weight from one foot to other and it broke our trance. Klaus's extended his hand. I took it, firm, warm. I wanted to fling myself around him, protect him, envelop him. I shook his hand, formally, politely.

"Thank you for allowing me to stay" Klaus said, measuredly.

I could feel disintegration inside. Wanting to drop to the floor, beg at the soldier at the gates feet to allow Klaus to stay, I met my Germans gaze. His lip was trembling, minutely. Almost unnoticeable to anyone else, but noticeable to any who had studied and worshipped him.

"My pleasure" I said around the lump in my throat, "safe journey"

Klaus squeezed my hand one last time and turned, walking slowly down the path, through the gate and climbed into the back of the waiting truck. He sat facing straight ahead, eyes fixed to the wall of the vehicle. The soldier jumped in and it rolled away, into the distance.

*********

I sat at the scullery table staring down into the tea. It was cold, I had taken two or three sips.

.why don't you English have coffee? This tea is not good..

I stood and went to the sink to pour away the tepid drink and placed the cup carefully down on the draining area. Looking out the window life seemed to go on regardless, even though mine has just stopped. Birds sat in the trees, chirping, singing. Two squirrels hunted for food at the trees base, tails curled, head jerking from side to side as they foraged. I pinched the bridge of my nose, squeezing my eyes shut, around the formation of a headache. It starting to pulse and throb.

Aunt Mimi appeared in view, bonnet on, walking along the path that led by the side of the lodge. By her side, old Ned, again the victim of her latest admonishment. I ducked down out of sight, "no, not today" I muttered out loud to the empty house.

I headed upstairs, drawn to Klaus's room. He had tidied it, immaculately folded sheets pristine on the bed. Devoid of his belongings it looked so empty. Everything was just as it was before Klaus's stay but now it looked so sterile, so brittle. I sat on his bed, reached for the pillow and hugged it, as I had hugged him. An echo of his scent wafted up. I burrowed my nose in, inhaling deep, breathing the scent in, breathing Klaus in. Squeezing it tight, as tight as I had held him, I let out a cry, so visceral it felt like it was shredding my throat.

*********

I'd been asleep for an hour or so, and awoke on Klaus's bed, his pillow still tight in my arms. I led there staring up at the ceiling, memories a carousel in my mind.

Placing the pillow aside I sat, then moved to the chest of drawers hoping that he had left something tangible that would remind me he had existed, that it wasn't a ghostlike dream, after all.
I slid open the top two draws, empty apart from the musk of aged wood. I slid them shut, the grating noise of wood on wood.

The third draw was a bit tighter, the wood slightly warped. I pulled it open, the screech of wood loud in the quiet room. There was a piece of paper folded at the bottom. I reached in, and took it, opening it as I withdrew it.

Klaus stared back from the sheet, his face a pencil drawn sketch, the shading perfect, catching his spirit perfectly. The glint in his eye, the way his lips twitched up at the edges when he found something amusing. His hair was the perfect mess it always was. It was beautiful. In his hands he held a sketch. A drawing within a drawing. On that, clouds, birds, reeds, trees. Everything from that afternoon in France.
In minute writing, on this sketch within a sketch there was words. I squinted to see them, moving to the window so the sunlight would make it easier to read.

There, in small writing.

For Eric, the man I never shall forget nor stop loving.

****************


Life rolled on, achingly empty. Old Ned died, Aunt Mimi remained as bitter, yet older. I remained at the bank, becoming manager in the summer of 1950.
Elvis arrived, hips swivelling, the tuneless raucous noise from his band and the screaming girls. I ignored it, as I did most things. Klaus had never written. I wasn't sure where he was, alive, dead, Germany, here. I had not expected any official follow up communication from the military, it wasn't usual to update former temporary home givers of their prisoners progress. I had hoped he would write, if only to say he was home, but nothing came. As time matched on I still yearned after him daily, but it softened slightly, the all encompassing suffocation of grief becoming almost bearable. One learned to live with it, and over years the ache was there, just not as insistent.

One of my juniors at the bank confided in me he was as I was, and although the physical attraction was not there we became confidantes. I never shared my story of Klaus with him. It was too private, yet he encouraged me to join him at gentleman's clubs in London. I only attended the one, furtive and seedy, the club was just the basement of a public house in Shepard's Bush. It was dark, filled with smoke, the reek of sweat and cheap sex as men gathered to grope and bugger their way around in semi darkness. I had spent the whole evening batting away the hands of older men as they reached and grabbed at me. I left before eleven and headed back to the hotel. Joe clattered back in at three in the morning, the stench of alcohol and debauchery hanging from him, sickening me. I never went back.

By the launch of Russia's Sputnik in 1957 I was thirty two. Klaus would have been thirty three. I had held onto my short military haircut, and the moustache, and become a little paunchier as I headed towards middle age. Klaus entered my mind frequently but not as daily or as painfully as before. A lot of the pain had subsided and to a point I viewed those few months in the late forties with endearment and a tender feeling of joy.As Tennyson had said it was better to have loved and lost never to have loved at all. I could die saying I had at least felt the gravity of love, many would never have the chance to feel as I did. I could count myself lucky I suppose in that regard.


******************

Upcoming Events at The Royal Albert Hall

16th November 1957

Hamburg's world famous symphony orchestra will be performing music from Liszt - Hungarian rhapsody number 2, Debussy's 'Clair de Lune' among many other pieces. Esteemed pianist Klaus Mannheim will be leading the orchestra in this exciting evening of classical entertainment

I studied the black and white photo of the pianist, dropped the paper onto the doctors waiting room table. Other patients waiting to be seen turned their heads in shock as I bolted from the surgery, grabbing my coat and hat as I sprinted towards the train station.

The paper was a few weeks old and had been reading material in the doctors surgery. I had been waiting to see Dr Fletcher and been idling the time away reading the papers left in piles to occupy the patients in the waiting room, when I saw the piece. The picture staring back at me, the echo of a past cherished. The shock of hair, the blue eyes, now encased by spectacles, older, but the same man. The concert was today.

I made the train by minutes, the teller struggling to understand the panting sweaty man, demanding tickets for the next train to Paddington.

*************

Standing by the stage door I hopped from one foot to the other in anticipation. I had no idea if the players were already inside. If they were I'd wait here until the end. To hell with rain and the cold. I pulled my hat down and collar up, the frigid wind making me squeeze my eyes tight, peeping out through slits, keeping watch, becoming a sentry at the door. People shuffled past, under umbrellas, wrapped up, leaning in against the wind. I was shaking, not sure if it was from the cold or the terror I would miss the man I had always kept in my heart. A bus thundered past, the fumes mingling in with the smell of London. I turned to light a cigarette. Anything to keep my hands busy. Taking a huge lungful of smoke I held it in, feeling the rush of nicotine, the drug enhancing my already heightened anxiety.

An old coach ambled away along the road, idling some twenty feet from me. The doors swooshed open and two men clambered out. Soon they were hoisting instrument cases from the luggage hatch, a large area accessed by latched door on one side of the coach. All black cases, some large, some small, many obvious of the contents, violins and cellos. They heaved them in, grunting under the weight of the more cumbersome pieces.

Once the disembarking was underway, people started to file from the coach, a mix of men and woman, all sizes, some folding newspapers, others turning to talk to fellow passengers. I watched each, intently, studying faces, immediately passing by the female forms, searching out for the blonde hair, the blue eyes. Several caught me assessing them and stared back, pausing conversations to peer at this man, stood wet and dripping at the stage door. They walked past me, into the hall, suspicious glances from some, anonymous obliviousness from others. In they walked, single and double abreast, like animals into the ark, the Noah figure being me, watching them pass, but looking for the one precious treasure amongst them.

The flow was starting to ebb slower as the coach emptied, travellers from the rear taking their time due to age or size. I kept scanning the line, eyes zipping back and forth.

"Eric? Eric? Is that you?"

I spun my head, I must have missed him climb down from the coach. He stood before me an amazed look on his face. His mouth was agape, making a perfect 'O' the shock of blonde hair styled, under a cap.

I wanted to bury myself in his arms, feel him close again. I had yearned for this for almost ten years, yet here we were in public again, the greeting, this time, rather than the farewell, but still so constricted by our secrecy.

I held out my hand, "Yes, it's me. I can't tell you how good it is to see you Klaus"

People were building up behind Klaus, creating a jam. He stood to one side, his hand still shaking mine. It was as warm as I remembered. Suddenly I felt back at home, ten years crumbling away before me.

"Mein Gott," he said, disbelieving, "Ich hate nie gedacht, days Ich dich weidersehen wurde"

So shocked to see me he had reverted back to his mother tongue. He translated himself, "I never thought I would see you again"

I smiled, the rain lashing down disguising the tears that had started to trickle down my face, "neither did I"

***************

"That was the worst I have ever played," Klaus said, clutching his brandy. We were sat at a table in the bar next to the Hall. After we had met, Klaus had breathlessly explained he needed to perform, but would I wait until after the performance. He had snuck me in as a guest and I had watched the performance from the back of the auditorium.

"I didn't notice!" I laughed. Our hands were inches apart, perched as we were around the small table. I wanted to reach out, cover his hand in mine, bring it to my lips and kiss. I had missed this man so much, yet we're were still separated by the etiquette of the day.

We both rattled on, firing questions at each other. How have you been? You look well. Where did you go back to in Germany? How did you end up in the orchestra, and then as the pieces of our lives were filled in, "do you have anyone else?"

Klaus smiled and shook his head, "No. you?"

"No no one"

"Not at all, the last ten years?"

"No, no one. You?" I asked

Klaus shook his head slowly, "No, there was only ever one. I only ever wanted one". His eyes pooled and he looked away blinking. I looked down at my drink, also blinking away the tears that blurred my vision. We sat in silence for a minute or so, composing ourselves, making sure we gave the right, but false impression of two men socialising.

"You didn't write?" I asked quietly. Not confrontationally, I just needed to know if he had

"Ya, yes many times. I did not know your address so sent them to the main house" he said gently, "you didn't get them?"

"No, not at all," I replied. Then it struck me. He had sent the letters to the main house and Aunt Mimi had opened them potentially or just disposed of them if they had German post marks. Klaus could see my thinking, and frowned.

"I kept themhow you sayinnocent?" He asked, unsure if his wording was correct, "I didn't say anything that would make her think" he trailed off, looking around the pub to check his voice was not carrying. He leant in.

"I thought you were not replying"

"Damn that woman to hell!" I hissed, then softening my voice, "she never passed them on. I would have replied, of course I would"

I could see the weight lifting from Klaus. Many questions had been answered for us both. He brightened, and keeping his voice low, "I missed you more than you'll ever know"

Tears sprung to my eyes again. "I know, and I'm never going to lose you again"



***************

1995

Sharon looked up from her notes. She sipped from her Pepsi and placed the can back on her desk. Her dangly plastic orange earrings matched the swirly printed garish t shirt.

"So where did we get these journals from?" She asked Alex, her manager

"He sent them in, Eric that is. We put out an appeal on the radio for Lesbian and Gay veterans to share their stories. It's fifty years since the end of the war and we wanted to create a book to celebrate our gay veterans and educate people to how life was for gay people back then."

"It's such a sweet story. What happened after the reunited at the concert"

"Well Eric didn't write as much after the sixties, it kinda petered out, but according to the interview when I met him, Klaus returned to Germany temporarily until he could transfer to the London philharmonic. He and Eric rented a flat in Mayfair. Eric transferred to a London bank, and joined an amateur orchestra. Klaus continued to perform professionally until the late eighties"

"Awwww that sweet" Sharon said, twirling her hair around her finger as she sat listening to her manager.

****************

His bones ached, and he could feel his back arching over as he used his frame to edge across the stage, rheumatic joints stiff and painful as he moved carefully. The chairs were arranged on the stage in a semi circle, microphones positioned to pick up his world worn voice. Progress was slow but the applause drove him on towards Alex, stood centre stage arm outstretched to embrace the old man. Alex beckoned him to sit and the applause died down.

"Eric, it's a pleasure and an honour to have you here for this discussion" Alex said to a smattering of warm applause.

Eric's lined weathered face creased into a smile, his false teeth bright under the lights. He ran his head over thinned wispy hair, now greyed, and then reached for the microphone. His voice was phlegmy, a little cracked. He leant into it, holding it close to his lips, "Thank you. I am not accustomed to speaking in public. Public performance was never my forte. Unlike Klaus who loved the limelight"

The audience broke into appreciative laughter. Alex stood again, "speaking of which, I think we need to bring out this man, too"
A slender upright man walked slowly in unaided. His hair was thinning, but still blond and still a bit wild. His eyes, dulled by age were still blue and life danced within them . The corners of his mouth tilted up as he saw Eric waiting for him.

"He's always making me wait. He did fifty years ago, so no change there" Eric said into the microphone to gentle laughter from the audience.

Klaus settled into the seat next to Eric and placed his hand on his partners knee, squeezing gently.

Eric coughed and cleared his throat, "If I may, I would like to read from my journals"

He looked at Klaus smiled warmly, turned to the audience and began.

"Being at war was not as romantic or as exciting as the propaganda had led me to believe. The basic training, the route marches, the barked orders, the drills. Sharing a dorm with twenty other men was the only plus point. Just being close to other men, the musky shared dorms, and the camaraderie."

He paused, coughed into his hand, then patted his chest

"Do excuse me" he coughed once more, "Nowadays I'd just be called just gay but back then, mentally ill, even a criminal. So I kept that side of me under careful cover"

Klaus reached over and gave his partners knee another loving squeeze.


THE END