Barnabas Tales Read online

  That afternoon, Brian, two burly women from the embassy plus a warder from the prison escorted Belinda to a large car with darkened windows. They drove through the streets to a house near the embassy. Stepping through the door she began to realise, what you perhaps decided long ago, that she had exchanged one prison for another.

  THE CHERRY ORCHARD IS TO BE SOLD and The Steward Relates his Concerns.

  "I worry now that Master has died. What will happen to the estate, the house and the servants? Will his widow sell it or keep us? Perhaps there will be a new manager.

  I hear that Master Chekhov died with a glass of champagne in his hand - I call that style - though it would have been more like him to have a pencil between his fingers. His widow is an actress - she's never been here to the estate.

  You would scarcely believe how much scribbling and writing he did. They say he wrote 20,000 life stories of people detained in a far province and also some plays - I don't believe that of course, but sometimes he would write all day and far into the night. And talk - he was always asking questions. When I first came I was too shy to say much, especially when I saw how he wrote many things down. Magazines apparently used to buy his writings, so I have always been careful about what I told him. You never know what your words might be used for. The pheasant that cackles at night reveals his roost. He thought I was simple, and that suited me well. I prefer getting things done, and distrust too much talking.

  He would speak with anyone at any time. I once drove him Alicia's in town. A niece of mine is a pretty girl who works there while she was giving me a drink in the kitchen I heard their number one girl say "For goodness sake stop talking and get on with it, and put that pencil and notebook down! I haven’t got all day." He used to question me and talk all the way to town and back, even though I said very little.

  Every year he used to come to supervise the estate and farm for a month or two and poke his nose into things. He would try to change our routine of planting and harvesting, caring for the cherry orchards, and collecting timber. Fortunately he was generally too busy writing to notice whether things actually altered, so we humoured him but carried on as before. On the good side he was kind and used to treat any of the staff or their families who fell ill, after all he had been a doctor.

  The worst thing about the Master was the disruption by the parties he arranged each year. None of us could imagine where he found the guests - perhaps a lunatic asylum. Some visitors would imagine they were landowners and rich, others had been ruined, while the rest would be unhappily in love or unhappily married. That is not so strange, you may say, but they would all talk interminably about their thoughts and their passions. They would scarcely stop chattering for food or sleep and were often very rude. Most of the young women were determined to be in love with unsuitable men, and the men in love were totally incapable of doing more than describing at length their passions and misery. We have lovely woods and orchards nearby, but I do not ever remember a pair of visitors going off. Of course the servants heard everything and we were amazed by the futility of most of the talk. One year there were soldiers, and sometimes a doctor came as part of the group - if so he was even odder than the rest. And all the time Master would flit from room to room eavesdropping and scribbling in his notebook! When the house parties were over, the survivors were usually even less sensible or happy than before.

  To me it all seemed very unhealthy. The country is beautiful here and there are jobs on the estate, but the visitors scarcely went beyond the garden. Very few did anything practical. I remember one went fishing on our lake and another shot a roosting bird, but that was most unusual. Some moaned to everyone that they wanted to get to Moscow or St. Petersburg. If I feel unhappy I go and chop wood, have a long walk, or sometimes visit Alicia's, and generally feel better and I have no desire whatever to go to any city. If I rabbitted on to the other servants about whether I was unhappy, it would make me feel worse and they would think I had gone soft. Some of the staff felt sorry for the visitors, but I wanted to shake them.

  These house parties would last for weeks. At first I thought Master hoped to relieve the visitors' misery and inertia and I wondered whether he was trying some new theory of treatment. Now I'm not so sure. Master used to leave guns around the house, and several parties broke up after a shooting accident. After the third or fourth time the police became quite offensive. I must say I disliked tidying up corpses and then being asked by the Master what I felt about death. One day I asked him why he did not leave starting pistols with blank cartridges, rather than live ammunition. He gave a very odd reply "Finishing pistols bring the curtain down well and are more dramatic than starting pistols." Clutching a pistol was certainly the last act of some of his guests.

  Still, apart from the house parties and listening for the sound of a shot, Master Chekhov was good to us. I often wonder what happened to all his notes and files, and the visitors who went home. I suppose I could ask his widow - the actress - if she comes here, but she might be embarrassed to learn about all the time he wasted here in his earlier years.

  We will just have to wait and learn what she decides for the estate and for us all."

  ON - STANLEY - ON.

  We must press on - it will be dark soon.

  I’m very tired. What about stopping or looking for somewhere to stay?

  Oh we can easily manage another 200 kilometres. I’d like to be first to the oasis. It’s cooler by night.

  But what about the track and the Bedouin, and fuel?

  The lights are good, any locals will be asleep soon, and I filled the spare cans at Timbuktu. It was a great stroke of luck meeting that traveller in the bazaar - said we must be sure to keep west of the hill like a horse’s head - means a few miles more but avoids most of the soft sand.

  I wondered what he was doing there cadging drinks and without a vehicle. Will anyone know we’ve gone on through the dark and which way? The satellite phone’ broken.

  No! That’s the whole point - we’ll be well ahead of anyone else. Come on – let’s go for it! Put a lively tape on the player - and give me a fix on the map. You’re the navigator.

  This is such a big map that a fix doesn’t help much.

  What a glorious sunset, with wonderful shadows and contrasts!

  Yes. I suppose a shadow hid that last hole we drove through. It’s a good job we had our safety belts on tightly. I heard some crockery break.

  I want to keep up speed while there is still some light. I’d ask you to drive but I think you would be too slow.

  Don’t you think we should slow down now?

  Perhaps you’re right. That camel was a bit of a shock. No bloody reflectors. Still, not much of a dent. How’s our direction?

  Still roughly correct. The GPS shows that we have been making about 40 KPH at 12 degrees. I’m still worried about the oasis’ coordinates. It should be about 160 kilometres north-east. What’s that vibration?

  Damn! One of the back wheels is flat. What a bore.

  Can’t we stop here? Get some sleep, then change or repair it and go on in the morning?

  Oh, come on. Won’t take long to change the wheel, and off we go.

  All right. If you must.

  Well, that was bracing.

  If you mean freezing - it was ghastly. My hands are numb. How many spare tyres have we - one or two?

  One - the other was too badly damaged.

  So one more puncture is our limit?

  In a way, but why should we have any more?

  But you know - six is the average for this journey when driving carefully, and we are following the special route from your friend in the bazaar.

  No good worrying. Let’s get going.

  Oh, for goodness sake - I need a break and a hot drink first.

  Oh. All right. If you must. But only five minutes.

  I must have dropped off for a few kilometres. Which way are we going?

  This way. It’s very good that there is some moon tonight.

  Very
cheerful - it shows 360 degrees of nothingness - rocks and hills and sand.

  What does the GPS show?

  That’s odd - there is no signal, no satellites found at all - and the batteries are well charged.

  Ridiculous - out here there should be plenty of signal for the GPS.

  The USA switches it off sometimes - I heard about a sailing boat which had to tell a tanker where it was during the first Gulf War.

  We can still use compass and dead reckoning. Excellent practice! Good old-fashioned system.

  But we can only use the compass away from the vehicle, and then there are iron-hills and magnetic anomalies to affect the compass.

  Right oh - let’s start again. I’m sure we go in that direction.

  Please - can’t we stop here ‘till dawn? We’re not the Foreign Legion. This is the fourth night we have driven through. I never imagined our honeymoon to be like this, and I should like to remind you of unfinished business.

  No. We must concentrate - keep all our energies for the present adventure. One thing at a time.

  Carry on with the navigating, my dear.

  LETTERS FROM A SMALL TOWN UNDER MILITARY CONTROL

  Hesserberg, 4th November.

  My dear Hans,

  Mother and I were very relieved to hear that you are in the care of a good nursing sister. Try to do everything she tells you. We long to see you back here again and know you will be brave.

  A new Military Commandant has come. Yesterday he sent for the Town Council. We had to walk up to the Schlossberg - I only just reached the top with my bad leg - to his office in the museum. He was fierce and tall and kept tapping a large folder of statistics from headquarters. He told us he knew all the facts about our town and district. We were ordered to be respectful and to make sure that the local people appreciated his administration. Cousin Heinrich asked about electricity because we have had none for three weeks, and the Commandant told him that we had used more than any of the other local towns in that time. He shook his papers at us, refused to believe what we described, ordered a new curfew and now we need a special pass to go to the forest. We had to stand throughout the meeting and then were then marched out by a guard. The last Commandant used to send a car for the council and offer us a hot drink.

  A few of your friends with serious wounds have come home. Here we have just enough food but we are very short of fuel. There is no electricity and all the local coal has been sent to the Ruhr. We burn wood when we can but are nearly always cold, and the curfew will cause difficulties. The town is quiet apart from the noisy tanks at the hippodrome. On the whole the soldiers behave quite well.

  Great Aunt Beate sends her love. Every night we give thanks that you are still alive and pray for the day when you come home.

  Please write soon,

  Love, Gustav.

  Hesserberg, 4th November.

  My dearest Maria,

  It was lovely to get your letters today. They reached me at my new command post high above this town. Part of it is a Gothic folly on the very top of my hill. It towers over the valley, and I can look straight down onto the closely packed black roofs below.

  I found things very slack here and I'm really looking forward to licking this command into shape. My predecessor even used to consult the district council instead of simply giving them orders! And the council today had the impudence to deny having enough electricity or fuel, but I had the regional statistics to prove they were lying. There is a huge riding school arena and stables here which make an excellent tank park and repair shops. My soldiers have been fraternising too much with the locals.

  I must stop now and patrol the town. These people need a firm hand to show them who is in charge.

  Please write soon, Love, William

  Hesserberg, 4th January.

  My dear Hans,

  Congratulations! Walking 20 metres! Your mother and I were tremendously excited. Does that mean that you will not need any more operations? Has the surgeon told you his plans? Is the new leg comfortable? When might you come home? We were very sorry nobody was able to visit you at Christmas.

  I expect you have heard about the new Commandant. He has wrapped camouflage netting around the top of the Wilhemsturm to hide his sentries. It now looks like a tall man with his head totally covered in hair netting. Now he will not meet our town council but sends orders to the town clerk. We still have no fuel and little electricity, and the women have had to find ways of bringing wood into the town after dark despite the curfew. Several have been arrested and imprisoned, but we do not think he would shoot women for that offence. We wrap up in as many layers as we can find. Outside we look like round shaggy bears while inside we are hungry and very thin. Several of the old people have died. It has been a grim New Year.

  The Commandant likes to strut around the town shouting at the men and women. Last week he marched up to Aunt Beate in the street. She was so frightened she put her hands over her eyes and ran away as fast as her legs would take her, straight into the fountain and through the ice. It took us hours and my last drop of schnapps to warm her again. We laughed about it afterwards, but a cold hungry winter is bad enough without being harassed by an officer who frightens old ladies.

  The members of the council are becoming very anxious. Our forests are full of timber which would keep houses warm. If the Army only allowed us two days to work in the forests with the use of some transport, we could get enough fuel to last through the coldest months. That seems no hope at present.

  We want you back home and but you are in the best place at present.

  Stay where you are fed and warm,

  All our love, Gustav.

  Hesserberg, 4th January.

  My dearest Maria,

  What splendid news about your sister's baby. And I'm sure ours will also be a boy. Take care that you keep warm and well fed with all the right foods and medicines. Your must take great care of yourself and of my heir. Don't forget the instructions I sent in previous letters.

  The people here are impossible. I make a point of going round the town every few days and all I get are glum looks and eyes turned downwards. A stupid old lady even ran away from me and fell straight into the fountain. It served her right for being so discourteous. The regional figures clearly show this town has had more food and more electricity each month since my appointment, but I've had no gratitude. The locals even continue to poach and steal wood from the forests despite the curfew. I suspect some soldiers allow the natives to collect wood and as soon as I catch a soldier doing so I will make an example of him. I will not have their low women getting anywhere near our men - they are peasant, gypsy types who will lead my troops astray if I give them any chance.

  My command post in the museum is very comfortable now and some excellent pictures hang in my office. A few small items are very beautiful, and I will send a few trinkets soon. The tower nearby has a magnificent view and can be seen for a great distance with the regimental flag flying triumphantly at the top. It is very cold outside now but our quarters are warm and snug - I always make sure that my soldiers have the best.

  Please remember me to your family, and especially to your uncle in the War Office. After my work here I have good hopes of winning a larger command.

  Keep yourself well fed and warm,

  All my love, William.

  Hesserberg, 4th March.

  My dear Hans,

  Wonderful news again! We all ache to see you and can hardly wait until next week. Your mother and I and Great-Aunt Beate will come to the station first thing in the morning and wait until you arrive. I thought that we might have to use the wheelbarrow, but we hope for something better. We have other good news.

  A new Commandant arrived yesterday and straight away sent a car for the council. He sat us down and provided real coffee. I never thought it could smell so delicious. Then he lifted the curfew, and told us that we could have horses and four carts to collect timber from the forest. He has promised our full rat
ions and will let the village farmers set up a weekly market in town.

  Already we have a fire in the house and one warm room, though goodness knows how we will deal with the frozen pipes in the top of the house when the thaw comes. They must all have burst.

  The last two months have been very difficult. The tall severe Commandant kept a strict curfew and ignored every request for help. He kept referring to his statistics. Then a corporal in the office became friendly with Cousin Freda, and he told her that the consumption of food and electricity and fuel in the Krupps factory had been added by mistake to the town’s figures, so the garrison and the factory between them had used up the entire town's allocation of food and fuel.

  In desperation two weeks ago I wrote to the Occupying High Command, expecting the military police to knock on my door at any time. Nothing happened for a week, no police and no arrest, and then the fierce Commandant wrote to Council announcing that he had been promoted. Now he has gone, I have begun to hope that my letter will not lead to punishment.

  We cannot wait to see you next week,

  All our love, Gustav.

  Cologne, 4th March.

  My dearest Maria,

  Wonderful news! I'm on my way to HQ and I’m sure it must be for a new posting. Thank you for talking to your uncle. He always had a soft spot for you, and I know he recognizes my ability.

  Hesserberg was a great success. We kept strictly to our supplies for town and district. In some areas commandants asked for more, but I was determined to stand no nonsense, least of all from the townsmen. They were always complaining about something.

  My soldiers were pretty good and worked hard at their winter exercises. I kept them well up to the mark.

  My dear – I have made sure that a few more presents are on their way. Last week a fellow officer from HQ arrived when his transport broke down on the road nearby. I made him welcome and showed him our statistics which interested him and I took him around the town. After dinner, which we held in full regimental style, we went to my museum and because he is shortly going on leave to London I asked if he would take some of the smaller items and bring them to you. (This was before I knew about my move to HQ). For a moment I thought he would refuse, but then I picked up a rather nice piece of Cape de Monte and asked him to accept it with my compliments. I could see he was impressed. He carefully examined it, then wrapped it well with the other pieces, and said he would take good care of them.