“Good afternoon, Captain Philipp. I see you made it here on time.” Gabi’s heartbeat quickened on realising that Eva had not accompanied Hans, and she grinned coyly at him.
Hans hesitated, clearly shocked by what he saw. “Yes, I made good time. We should find a seat,” he added hastily, saluting the other officer and promptly escorting Gabi to a row of empty seats.
“Look at you! You’ve been playing with makeup,” he said as though mocking her. This was not the reaction she was expecting, and she pouted her annoyance.
“You don’t like it?”
“No. I do. I do. You just look so… so…”
But his words were cut short by an announcement over the speaker, leaving Gabi to doubt herself yet again.
The ceremony was the usual, tedious affair. Gabi fidgeted and chattered nervously while Hans did his best to keep her still. They were awarded their medals and made their way to the foyer for a farewell drink before the return journey to Krasnowardeisk.
With flute in hand, General Richter took up position beside Hans, sipping the champagne with pouted lips like he’d been sucking on a lemon. “So, Hans, what are your plans for this evening?” He took another swig and grimaced before placing the half-empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter and taking a beer in its place.
Hans watched the exchange. “Well, Gabi and I hope to arrive back at the base at dusk. No other plans after that, perhaps an early night.”
The general chuckled into his beer. “What’s the rush back to that God-forsaken Krasnowardeisk? You should stay another night in Berlin and perhaps go out for dinner.”
Hans looked at the general and his eyes flashed. “An excellent idea, General. Gabi deserves a night out.”
“Good man. I know you’ll be the perfect gentleman.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “Oh, and thank you for keeping an eye on Gabi—I know she’s in good hands.”
The general left Hans, catching a glimpse of Gabi with a clutch of photographers, posing while cameras flashed and snapped.
“Excuse me, gentlemen, while I give my little girl a kiss good-bye.”
The photographers sniggered as they parted, allowing the general access to his celebrity daughter.
“Oh, Papa, please don’t embarrass me.”
“Me, embarrass you? Never.”
She smiled broadly and his eyes twinkled with pride. “Amazing what a difference a bit of grooming can make.” He placed a soft kiss on her cheek. “Be safe.”
Gabi watched her father depart, his stately posture conveying the self-assurance of a man in command. But he was not always so in his actions with her and over the years, Gabi had come to realize that he was somewhat of a coward when faced with unpleasantness, although she would never admit this to anyone, including herself. She was her father’s daughter after all.
Her attention shifted to Hans as he walked briskly towards her, grinning slyly. Her eyes caught his glint and she smiled alluringly back, unsure if this was appropriate but compelled to respond likewise. Was he flirting with her?
Soon they were on the road and on their way to a cosy guest house in the country where Hans hoped to surprise Gabi with dinner. They talked small talk for much of the drive, the trivial topics complimenting the picturesque but repetitive landscape as they passed fields and forests in a kaleidoscope of colour, the weaving road edged by a sprinkling of oxeye and poppy blooms that grew, as weeds do, arbitrarily along the roadside. It was a pleasant drive but decidedly boring, and a question that had been niggling at Gabi finally found its moment.
“I thought Eva would have been at the ceremony today. What happened to her? Did she misplace her broomstick?”
Hans pursed his lips. “We split up ages ago. I still see her occasionally, but we both have other priorities.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, unable to mask her glee. She turned her beaming face away from Hans, mindful that he still may have feelings for Eva.
“Are you seeing anyone?” he asked.
A loud boom jolted the car, a whiff of burning rubber tainting the air. They limped to the side of the road, and Hans jumped from the vehicle to inspect the remnants of a tyre shredded to the rim. He walked to the back of the car to recover the spare but could find none.
“Incompetent mechanics!”
“Hey, steady on. It’s not always the mechanic’s fault.” Gabi stepped from the vehicle to take a look for herself. “That’s some flat.” She stretched her arms and yawned out at the rural vista. “I think there’s a town not far from here. Let’s start walking.”
They unloaded their bags and set off for civilization, maintaining a steady pace, enjoying the radiant heat that followed their path. A dome of cloud cover smothered the sun’s warmth, replacing it with a cool foreboding shadow.
“Looks like rain,” Gabi said.
Hans studied the clouds. “No, they’re cumulus, they don’t bring rain.”
No sooner had the words left his lips, when the sky turned grey and the static charge of a thunderstorm electrified the air, glistening beads exploding on the road and leaving little doubt what was to come.
“Oh, great. Just great.” Hans held his palms up as though in prayer to the rain gods.
Gabi laughed. “Relax, you worry like an old woman. There’s a barn just over there. Let’s wait it out.”
They ran to the shelter, empty but for a few bales of hay and some rusty farming equipment. Gabi left the barn door open and they nestled down on the hay to watch the sheets of rain sweep over the meadows.
The rain settled in for the evening. Gabi rummaged through her bag hoping Chef had packed something for the trip. She discovered a box of chocolates, a bottle of wine and some biscuits. With supper taken care of, she scoured the barn, finding a kerosene lamp that she lit with Hans’s cigarette lighter. She shunted bales and spread loose tufts of hay over the earth, stuffing hessian sacks with the softer straw for pillows and shaking an old horse blanket vigorously before laying it on the straw mattress.
“You’ve done this before,” Hans said, impressed by her resourcefulness.
“One year, my father hired a cute stable boy. I spent a lot of time in the stable that summer break.” She sniggered to herself, embarrassed by this admission and her own promiscuity at such a young age. “Now, are you a lefty or a righty?”
“Pardon?”
“Do you prefer to sleep on the left or right side of the bed?”
“I’ve never given it much thought. I’m a righty, I suppose.”
“Good, because I’m a lefty.” She sat down on the left side of the bed and placed the chocolates, biscuits and wine in the middle. Hans looked on, his crooked grin reassuring Gabi that he was comfortable and in good spirits.
“What happened to your father?” Gabi asked.
Hans fiddled with the crown of his watch, his lips twitching uneasily, his gaze distant. He seemed ruffled by her question, and she wished that she could take it back.
“You don’t have to tell me if you’d rather not.”
“It’s all right,” he said and he tilted his head to one side. “My father was a surgeon during the first war. He was killed the same year I was born.” He paused. “Well, that’s what my mother tells everyone.”
Gabi sensed that something was amiss but thought it best not to probe further. She lifted the wine bottle and laughed. “Helmut packed wine but no opener.”
Hans took the wine and using his gravity knife, forced the cork into the bottle. “Not the best way to open a bottle, but it’ll do.”
He handed it back and Gabi filled her mouth with the ruby liquid, wiping her mouth with her sleeve and coughing before taking up their conversation again.
“So, you never got to know your father. It’s the same with me but with my mother. She died when I was a baby. Papa blamed the gypsies that settled near Meissen. They had an outbreak of scarlet fever at their camp. They came to beg for food one day, and my mother gave them some. She contracted the fever in return. I don’t blame the gypsies though.”