The Good Liar (28 page)

Anneliese?’

‘Yes,’ answered her sister. ‘It’s so exciting.’

‘Are you hoping your lieutenant will be here tonight, Hannelore?’

‘Well, he’s accepted the invitation.’

Her two sisters giggled in unison.

‘I hope he brings some of his friends,’ said Anneliese.

They chattered as if he were not there. He did not mind. He

wished he could be invisible but remain there always. To watch.

This was Charlotte’s room. He wished he could watch her as she

prepared for this evening and be there on her return to see her

remove her make- up carefully in front of the mirror, before shaking her dark hair and removing her dress. He wanted to see her remove

her underwear and to see her plump breasts freed from their bounds, to watch her step out of her knickers and to savour the sight and the smell and the taste and feel of what lay beneath.

He felt an aching, yearning hardness and dared not move for fear

they would notice. They laughed and shouted, moving around him

as he sat primly on the edge of the bed.

‘Sorry,’ he said when he found himself looking into Hannelore’s

inquiring eyes. ‘What did you say?’

‘Hansi’s daydreaming again,’ she said, laughing. ‘I said, would

you like to see us in our gowns?’

‘Er, yes,’ he replied.

‘Well then. You’ll have to stand outside for a few minutes while

we get ready. Off with you. Out.’

She marched him outside the door, where he waited obediently.

He did not dare a glance through the keyhole but stood, stiff and

still.

Eventually the door opened again and Anneliese peered around it.

‘Fashion show,’ she announced, and opened the door wide.

He went in and each of the girls sashayed in front of him in turn,

grinning, posing, blowing kisses towards him. He was bedazzled

but expressionless, gulping inwardly on the seat at the dressing table that they had turned to face the room. Anneliese touched him

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gently on the leg and he looked intently at the spot where her hand had brushed him. He was beginning to feel heady with the fragrance of perfume and girl. Hannelore tousled his hair and he

grinned inanely. The girls danced together and Anneliese reached

for him. He stood and she pulled him towards her. He knew to place

his hand gently at her waist, but no more. She took him with her as if tied by gossamer, moving gracefully. He clumped gamely in tow.

Hannelore laughed and clapped her hands. ‘I hope Daddy will let

us drink some of his champagne,’ she said.

Hans giggled for no reason.

Charlotte threw herself back on the bed, sighing. Her wide dress

flew up. He could see her lace petticoats. He did not divert his eyes.

For a moment, just a second, he saw her drawers.

Without realizing it, he had stopped dancing. He pulled Anne-

liese close to him, still looking at Charlotte. Anneliese resisted but he was a strong boy. He was aware of her thigh against his hardness and it felt good.

‘Don’t,’ she said loudly. ‘Hans, no. You’ll crease my dress.’

He released her and she moved quickly away from him. There

was silence in the room. All three girls looked at him. The full

import of the exchange was clear to everyone.

Eventually it was Hannelore who spoke, with forced cheerful-

ness. ‘We really must get ready for tonight, Hans. Your father will be waiting for you now, surely?’

He detected scorn in her expectant look. Bitches. Without speak-

ing, he left the room and slammed the door behind him.

Furious, he pounded the corridors, kicking his feet out before

him. A maid who passed him suggested he might come down to the

kitchen for a hot chocolate with whipped cream. He glared at her.

He hated this house.

Lili was in a window seat, her feet folded neatly under her, read-

ing a book. She called him back after he had passed the room.

‘Hans! Hans! Have you seen the snow?’

He groaned inwardly. He’d had enough of the others. Now he

had to deal with this child. He could, feasibly, walk on, carried by his blackness, but something drew him back.

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‘Yes, I’ve seen it.’

She stood and came to the door.

‘Isn’t it wonderful? I’m going to ask Mama if I may play outside

later.’

‘You have your party tonight. And it’ll be dark soon.’

‘I’m not allowed to go to the party. I’m to go to bed early. But I

shall watch from the stairs, whatever they say. Maybe I’ll play in the snow tomorrow. Would you come and play, Hans?’

Lili was by far the youngest of the sisters. His parents had joked

that she must be the Schröders’ afterthought. He did not know

what was amusing about being an afterthought. She was ten years

old, a baby.

The difficulty was that Lili adored him, though not in the same

way as the elder daughters. For them he was a kind of pet, a puppy.

Lili looked up to him; he was her hero. It was embarrassing, but not entirely unwelcome. Sometimes he would enjoy her rapt attention;

on other occasions, like now, it filled him with impatient contempt.

‘No,’ he said, ‘I have more important things to do.’

‘That’s a shame.’

‘I don’t actually play children’s games any more.’

She looked up at him sadly, her brown eyes scanning him curi-

ously. He relished the effect of his cruelty and willed his own eyes to transmit cold indifference.

Once he had tolerated her. Once she had not been so irritating.

Once he too had been a child. He had even sat patiently while she

carefully cut a lock of his blond hair for a locket she had received as a birthday gift from an aunt. Rather too much hair in fact. She had held it aloft, examining it delightedly in the sunlight before kissing it and placing it in the locket. He had chuckled to himself, he

remembered. He would not do that now.

He touched her arm with his hand and felt her cold skin.

‘Let’s play something now,’ he said.

‘All right,’ she replied.

He ushered her into her room and closed the door behind them.

The snow was falling heavily outside and grey was turning into

dusk. They could barely see each other.

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He stood before her and with his hands on the outside of her

arms lined her up to face him directly. He looked down at her.

‘Have you ever kissed like them?’

‘Like who?’

‘Them. Like grown- ups.’

‘Do they kiss differently?’

‘Yes. Would you like to try?’

‘With you?’

‘Yes. Of course.’

‘Well yes, I suppose.’

He reached down to the little girl and pulled her towards him,

holding her close to his body. He could smell her and feel her

warmth against his chest. He stroked her arm before placing his left arm around the small of her back, his other arm over her shoulder.

It was awkward, this manoeuvre that looked so natural in the mov-

ies, but eventually they were where he wanted them to be. Her

midriff was against his stiff penis, which also pressed against his own belly. She could not fail to notice it; he wanted her to.

He bent to place his mouth against hers. Her eyes were wide

open, startled. He liked the fear. She will be a pretty little thing one day, he thought. Their lips touched in a moment where he imagined

he must become a different human being altogether. Later he would

discover otherwise.

He pressed his mouth hard against her softness, moving insist-

ently to urge her lips apart. They did not open, and Lili’s mouth

muscles tightened. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, against her teeth, and eventually forced his way through. Uncertainly she submitted, opening herself reluctantly to him. Excitedly, he explored

with his tongue. This was the first time he had done anything like

this.

Eventually he gasped. She looked at him, fearful, out of breath,

and made to move away. But he still held her arms.

‘Did you like that?’ he said eagerly.

‘Well . . .’ she said doubtfully.

‘Shall we do it again?’

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‘I don’t know. If you like.’

He reached down again. This time it came more naturally. He

savoured the wet of her saliva on his tongue as it ranged again

inside, as if he were discovering something new and fundamental

about another. Even if it was only Lili. Gradually he freed his right hand and shucked up her skirt. She pulled away but he had her

firmly gripped by his other hand. His tongue continued to probe

while he found the elastic of her knickers, and insinuated his fingers underneath, feeling the marble- smooth skin of her thighs. She

squirmed but he pulled her hair with a sharp jerk that made her

compliant. To his annoyance she was whimpering. He found the

fleshy notch that he was seeking and ran his index finger up and

down it before locating his real objective. Roughly, he thrust his finger into the soft gap and she flinched. The second time he rammed

two fingers, meeting resistance from her pubic bone, and she yelped in pain. He released her and she collapsed on the floor.

He had had enough. Lili had served her purpose. She was weep-

ing silently and holding her belly. He sniffed his fingers curiously.

‘Filthy bitch,’ he muttered. ‘You dare say anything to anyone.’

Was that it? It had not been enjoyable. He walked the corridor

angrily towards the study. Maybe he should have done the whole

thing. Perhaps that was it. Maybe there was just nothing at the end of it all. Maybe that was the trick they played on you. All that excitement and then this. Nothing. Bitches. Thinking they could humiliate him.

He paused at the door. The two men were still talking. He put his

ear to the door.

‘Sometimes I wish I too were a Jew,’ Schröder was saying.

‘You don’t really mean that,’ Konrad Taub replied.

‘Actually I do. I could at least hold my head high alongside my

friends who are being victimized. As it is, our nation is being divided, into the persecutors and the persecuted. Those who choose

not to become involved fall into the first category. We need people like you, Konrad.’

‘And you too, Albert.’

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‘But I do not oppose publicly. You do. You put yourself in the way

of danger for the sake of your fellow men. That is a particular sort of bravery.’

‘Or foolishness. And I’m quite careful. I sense my limits when I’m

writing.’

‘You go right up to them. You and Renate are courageous people.

You’ll be remembered in history.’

‘Perhaps for struggling pathetically against the inevitable,’ said

Konrad. ‘With words. Laughable. Now, you’re sure you’re happy

with me passing on the information you’ve given me?’

‘You’ll pass it on anyway. And yes, of course I’m happy. Anything

that impresses on them the seriousness of the situation. And of

course I will do more. Whatever is required.’

‘We need to consider networks. We need to think about what

damage can be done to the war effort.’

‘Whatever’s necessary. It’s too late now for half- measures.’

‘You’re a brave man, Albert, whatever you say.’

He turned his spite on them. These self- congratulating, self-

deluding fools, with their politics. His own father. Pathetic. Disgusting.

Thinking they could change the shape of things. Whatever their

fantasies, the real world was arranged rather differently. He knocked on the door, opening it hesitantly.

‘Father . . .’

‘Heavens, is that the time?’ said Konrad. ‘We must be getting

home. I have another meeting this evening.’

‘And I must get ready for the party,’ said Schröder. ‘Goodnight,

Konrad. Goodnight, Hans.’

2

The snow had stopped by the next morning, though it remained

bitterly cold. There was a layer of ice on the inside of the bathroom window when he rose at six and went through the ritual of his

morning wash as swiftly as he could.

His mother was already in the kitchen, standing by the small

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range. She poured him coffee and he wrapped his hands around the

steaming bowl. She took a bobbing egg from the pan and placed it

on his plate, along with two slices of rye bread and a generous portion of butter. He accepted them without thanks.

‘Where’s Father?’ he asked.

‘He’s left already. He has a meeting.’

He ate in silence as she watched him.

‘What?’ he said.

‘Nothing. You’re growing up quickly, that’s all. You’re not a little boy any more.’

He grunted and asked whether there was any cheese. He was

always hungry these days.

‘How are things at school, Hans? Are the boys still on about your

father?’

‘No, not really. They got bored with it.’ This was a half- truth. He had discovered strategies to reduce the abuse.

‘We’re on the right side, you know.’

‘I know. You’ve explained it enough.’

‘But if it gets too difficult at school you must tell us. We need

to talk about it. I may have to go and see Herr Professor Wolff

about it.’

‘No need,’ he responded gruffly, and thought with grim humour