Berlin Wolf (31 page)

The man was also confused. The dog was certainly Wolfi, but the boy was unlike the son he remembered. The son he had dreamed about all those years in the camp. Of course that boy was only fifteen when they had lost each other. And that was five years ago. This was his son and he was a fine young man.

‘Peter? Can it really be you? My Peter?' the man asked again, barely daring to hope.

Peter stood back and examined the man carefully again. He wanted to believe it was his father, he was still uncertain.

‘And Wolfi! What a dog you are! I knew you would look after my son,' the man said. ‘That night when you jumped off the boat, I saw Wolfi save you.'

‘It is you Papa!' Peter cried out and hugged his father to him.

They held each other tightly for several minutes, neither saying anything. Moments later Peter stood back a little. ‘And Mama?'

Isaac did not speak. He simply shook his head and pulled Peter to him once more. Wolfi lay at their feet looking up.

At the edge of the park, Lotte and Franz watched as father and son, reunited after so long, clung to each other, weeping.