On the afternoon of November 29th 1998 our extended family gathered for the reading of Max’s will. Annie had chosen the date because it would have been her mother’s birthday and a date that resonated through our story.
I had been busy in the hour I had had on my own before the family arrived. I had arranged my papers, rehearsed what I had to say, and wrapped bundles of the three books together.
There were going to be 22 of us in the room, representing four generations, though, of course, things weren’t quite that straightforward.
Max had been the last of the first generation. His contemporaries, David and Edie, had died years before.
Alicia had died even before her parents. Her husband, Arnold, and his second wife Kathleen, Kathleen’s sister Maureen they were all gone so the only representative of the second generation was Monika Heller, the woman who had been Max’s housekeeper for so many years.
The main group in the room that day would be the third generation, Alicia’s children Charles and Susannah, Arnold’s son Carl, Linda and her brothers.
And Holly. Sometime wife to both Charles and Carl now married to Linda’s brother but also the daughter of Monika’s brother. Perhaps Holly was the odd one out.
No generation was simple in this family but the relationships of the third generation of this family were particularly complicated. Susannah and Carl had had a chequered relationship but were still good friends, working together on and off through the years. Charles had married Holly only to be divorced with much ill will. Holly and Carl had then had a short lived marriage during which Carl had an affair with Susannah. When Holly had divorced him she had returned to the man she should probably have been with since she was 17, Linda’s brother Crispin. Charles and Linda had lived together for more than 20 years sometimes as friends, but more recently as more than that. They had married a year before Max had died.
The family trouped into the room that had been sacrosanct, Max’s study. What would he would thought of the gathering? So many people he would not have wanted in his most private of rooms.
Carl Witherby was just as tall and distinguished as his father had been in his fifties. Annie talked to him. I was not worried about her. I watched them standing together, with easy friendship and knew she would be able to call on him when she needed support as she would before too long. I was getting old and there would be a time soon when Annie would need a friend. We have had 11 wonderful years together for which I will be eternally grateful but it was good to know she would have a friend when she needed one.
Seeing Charles and Carl together in the same room it was impossible not to recognise that they were brothers.
I knew Charles wouldn’t speak to his sister. When he realised what had happened between us he had been appalled and said he would have nothing to do with us. Perhaps Maureen had talked to him. Perhaps she had told him what she had tried to tell Susannah.
Perhaps Charles had believed her.
Standing apart were the fourth and fifth generations. Josie, nearing middle age at 35; stood with 11 year old Andy. Her brothers, Al and Jack, stood with their partners next to Bill with his pregnant wife.
Alicia would have been so proud of her dynasty.
Max was unknown to many of them, indeed this was the first time many of them had met each other. I wondered what they would make of the afternoon’s proceedings.
I had a very strict timetable to keep to that afternoon, there were formalities to get through and I wanted to avoid the various factions of the family having any time to revive their arguments, so as soon as everyone was in the room I called them to order and began to read Max’s first confession.
“I begin with a quotation Exodus Chapter 34 Verse 7
“Keeping mercy for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin - and that will by no means clear the guilty – visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children, and upon the children ’s children, unto the third and to the fourth generation.
I can see you all now, pondering that quotation.
Well Charles, Carl, Susannah you are the second generation. Arnold and Alicia, Maureen and Kathleen, they were the first to suffer from the actions of their parents. Susannah, your children are the third generation. I know you and Carl have given them all the love they could possibly need to end the sequence. If God wills it the pain will end now.”
I felt it important to put Max’s words that I had just read into context So I stopped reading for a moment.
“You must remember that Max wrote this in the autumn of 1976. I do not know why he never changed it. Some of what he says you may find mystifying in the light of what has happened since.”
I took a drink of water and began reading once more.
For you all I would say ‘Do not judge them too harshly for things they could not know’. Much of this is not your responsibility. Do not blame yourselves.
I could hear the murmur as most of the people in the room became impatient, Charles, Susannah and Carl were the only ones who had any idea what Max was saying.
The first and most important bequest for you all is this book of Ted’s. Read it carefully, learn from it. Learn to forgive your elders their mistakes for they make them either unwittingly or through weakness.
I watched as all the people in the room turned towards the table by the door and looked at the parcels I had carefully wrapped in identical paper. Max had not, of course, known of the other books.
I continued reading from Max’s prepared documents.
My second bequest is an explanation…”
I was hesitant, knowing that there was no truth in what I was reading.
Monika, I have loved you as a father might for all your life. Your real name is Rebecca Rebmann. You are my dear niece – but I could never tell you for all the memories I knew it would bring up to mention it. As we grew older together I knew your knowing our relationship could not make us any fonder of each other. So I let it be.
Holly stared at Monika realising she gave no reaction.
“You knew.” I saw her mouth the words across the room in disbelief, so much of her life had been affected by Max’s unwillingness to admit any relationship with Monika. Holly glared at Charles, and, pausing only to exchange obviously angry and bitter words with Monika, walked past me. She hesitated slightly, as if wondering whether it was the right thing to do, before picking up a parcel from the table and walking out of the door.
I followed her. “Holly, you mustn’t go. Please don’t leave. There is more to tell.”
“But Ted, It’s so confusing. I looked at Charles and it all came flooding back, all of it. I just couldn’t face Monika. She knew. All that time she knew and she let us go through all that pain. She never said a word.”
“Do you know why? She said nothing because nothing was said to her.”
“We went through hell to keep her safe and she knew all the time.”
“She didn’t care enough about us to try to save us from all that pain. If she had she would have told us she knew.”
“But she didn’t know Holly, she didn’t know.”
“But you just read all about it.
“I read the first part. There is more. There is so much more. You must come back to hear it all.”
Charles seemed surprised when Holly came back into the room with me. He was standing next to Carl. I wondered what Holly’s two ex-husbands would have said to each other.
I walked through the family to stand beside Susannah and waited until silence reigned again in the room.
“I have now fulfilled what Max wanted me to do. I have read the confession Max wanted me to read. But now Susannah must read what Max never wanted spoken in his lifetime. Now is the time.”
“I will tell you about Max.” Susannah had their undivided attention.
She told them of Max’s student days, how he felt disadvantaged, how he was resentful of the men he studied with who had money and families behind them. I closed my eyes as I listened to her reading the words she had carefully composed. How like Alicia’s her voice was, the nuances of meaning expressed with subtlety and grace; so like her mother’s but so different. There was more strength, more confidence and more maturity than I ever heard in Alicia.
Perhaps it was because Susannah was happy and her mother never had been.
I knew what Susannah had decided to say and so I watched Charles and Monika carefully.
They both thought they knew the truth and were obviously wondering why Susannah was going over this old ground again. Why was she talking about Holly’s father again’, their looks seemed to say, ‘we know all this about August and Mattieu and how Monika’s brothers abandoned their parents and sister’. They began to be interested when the words Susannah was reading began to stray from their expectations.
They had not expected to hear of Max having a daughter.
I watched Monika as she listened. She realised before the others where Susannah’s tale was heading.
Max was her father.
He had never admitted it, had never acknowledged her throughout the 50 years since they had met in Audierne.
Susannah picked up a paper from the desk and read.
On the papers I forged I didn’t give her the name she had had when she lived with my sister. Rebecca Rebmann was dead. Monika Heller was born. I gave my dear girl her mother’s name.
As the years passed I had to explain things more than I would wish. She asked questions, others asked questions, others thought they knew so I told her something of her past. I resisted telling her all because of the pain it would cause. But again I am disingenuous. I didn’t want her to remember because of all the things I had to hide.
Monika Heller, you are the daughter I didn’t want, the daughter I denied all my life and the daughter I have loved and wanted to protect for the past 50 years.
All eyes turned to Monika who sat passive and unmoving, but not unmoved.
“Why are you so cruel? Why do you say these things in front of everyone? Do you think so little of me that you use my humiliation as spectacle? Could you not have opened and read these papers to me privately?”
She was so dignified in her distress.
Susannah spoke directly to Monika with compassion but also with authority. “Max cared about you but he hated himself. You might think he wanted to humiliate you but he didn’t, he wanted to humiliate himself. He did not want to be remembered with an affection he felt he didn’t deserve, he was giving us all a reason to hate him. There is a postscript.”
She looked down at the paper in front of her. “Max wrote ‘All my life has been a lie. Do not remember me with fondness or affection I do not deserve it.’ I believe he really meant that.”
I met Susannah’s gaze. We both knew Max would get his wish when I had dealt with the final tasks of the afternoon, the disposal of his assets. Some of the family had been less than interested in the details of Monika’s background, many had hardly heard of her let alone known her as a person but they were all interested when I started to read the will. They all had expectations.
I had known Max draw up two wills. In his first, dated 1941, Major Maximilian Fischer left all his property to his wife Elizabeth and daughter Veronica, apart from a substantial bequest to his niece, Rebecca Rebmann. The names had meant nothing to me then.
As I read the second will, dated 1976, I watched the delighted looks on the faces of the family. There were substantial gifts to all the people in the room.
“I have to stop here. I only have read this,” I waved the paper in the air like a Victorian preacher “because I am required to. Unfortunately it is all nonsense.” I watched the faces change from delight and, in one or two cases outright greed, to enquiry, doubt and worry. “I think at this stage I should hand over to Susannah again.”
Heads in the room turned, as one, towards Susannah who slowly walked round to stand next to me. I gripped her hand in encouragement. She looked round the room as if gauging before she began how much what she had to say was going to shock.
“Max enjoyed the finer things in life. He had a good eye and opportunity. He accumulated wealth and influence, but it never made him happy because he had acquired it illegally.”
She paused for the murmurs to subside.
“Before and during the war he and others,” she hesitated, catching my eye. I smiled in encouragement and she continued. “Before and during the war he and others collected certain things that did not belong to them and to which they had no right. Eventually the façade Max had built around himself began to unravel, his secrets were being exposed to people who also had power and influence. They began to chip away not only at his wealth but at his confidence in himself. Most of what he had kept was stolen from him. The rest he gave to good causes and, as he had less and less he was given his knighthood. It was an empty gesture, given too late by the establishment that had broken him. This house,” she waved her arm around the room in an expansive gesture “belongs to the bank, as do all his other properties. They will be sold to repay his debts. There are no investments, no paintings.” She paused as she looked at Carl who was staring at her bemused by what she knew and had never told him. “There are no diaries, no books, no papers.” She looked away, focussing on no one. “He has nothing. There is no property, no money, no assets. The will of 1976 has no validity whatsoever. None of you will get anything simply because Max has nothing to leave.” Susannah stood, flushed, conscious of the effect her words were having.
I watched the faces around me as they realised that they would get nothing. There was a shocked silence, then the first quiet whispers of disappointment, followed by the louder swell of outrage. I caught Annie’s eyes and she smiled, this was exactly what she had expected.
“May I say something?” Monika stood up leaning slightly on Charles at first and then, standing free, she turned to the family. No one heard her and I had to ask for quiet.
“I think we all owe it to Monika to listen to what she has to say.” And gradually the room quietened and even the youngest turned towards her.
“Why is a legacy only measured in property and money? Why are you all so angry and disappointed. You must know that we have all had the most wonderful legacies from Sir Max.”
She spoke quietly and firmly, with the authority of the only person who had really known Max.
“Charles, where would you be without the gifts that Max had given you? Not only did he open his home to us to give you the gift of security he gave you the gift of time. With the money he gave you were able to live well and do the things you loved doing, he allowed to you to spend your early years watching and writing about your birds. Where would you be if you had had to earn your own living? How could you have done the things you have done without Max behind you?”
We had all turned to look at Charles who looked defensive.
“And you Carl. Where would you have been without Max? You may think you have achieved everything on your own, you may think you have been independent and made your own way in the world. But I must disillusion you, you also received a large sum of money on your 21st birthday. But it wasn’t his money that was important, it was the gift of achievement. Did you never wonder how you got those first invitations to work on radio and television. There were, no doubt, many young men equally talented who could have been approached but no, you were given special treatment, you were singled out because of contacts Max made on your behalf.”
I saw Susannah catching Carl’s eye but he could not meet her gaze and quickly turned away.
“And Susannah. Max gave you the gift of freedom. Freedom from responsibility, freedom to make mistakes and to take time to recover from them. He took responsibility for your children, he provided for them, he helped you find a purpose in life. He knew you, not Carl, were the one most interested and most able to do what he wanted you to do.
“Such gifts. Time, security, achievement and freedom, are they not far more important than anything else Sir Max could have left to you?”
No one answered. It would have been too difficult.
“And the rest of you. Why would any of you deserve anything? You neither knew nor cared for Sir Max. But even so he has left you another great legacy, that of independence. You will have to make your own way in the world, you will have to work for what you achieve. What good did all his wealth do him? None. He would have been better off without it. It stopped him living the life he should have led. It made him afraid to acknowledge his past, it made him ashamed of himself and who he was.”
Annie turned to me and I saw she was crying, a tear trickling down one cheek as it always did when she was moved. She turned to the room full of her family; her half brothers, her children, the people who were, or had been, important to them all.
“Please fill your glasses, we need to make a toast.”
Carl and Charles, helped by Crispin, opened several bottles of champagne while Linda, Holly and Josie handed the glasses around. As Carl passed me a bottle and two glasses Annie gave him a quick hug before turning back to the room.
“To Max” she said “Thank you for everything.” We all sipped at our glasses.
Perhaps I wasn’t the only one to remember how many times we had drunk champagne in this house over the years. Charles walked to the front of the room.
“I must add a toast.”
He held his glass out. I could see him trying not to catch Susannah’s eye.
“It is undoubtedly a time for reconciliation. Many things have happened in this family that we cannot hope to understand until we have read these books. Perhaps we have been too quick to judge. Perhaps what Max has said is true ‘Do not judge us too harshly for things we could not know”. Not only have I judged too harshly I should not have judged at all. That is not my right.” He looked at his sister and smiled. “Susannah, I am so sorry I have never tried to understand.”
My Annie raised her glass towards him, accepting the apology for so many years of distance between them. ‘No one ever said life was fair’ she spoke silently to him
Charles’ voice changed as he raised his glass.
“My toast is to Monika.” He turned towards her. “We owe you so much. Please forgive us for not realising how great that debt has been.” He spoke with affection and we all repeated ‘To Monika’ as we took another sip from our glasses.
“And the last toast will be mine.” I said believing it was time to bring proceedings to an end.
“We are all one extended family, we have had our good times and our bad, as families must. There have been misunderstandings and misjudgements which is why you will all read these books, mine, Charles’s and Susannah’s, because they will, I know, make you realise the importance of the subject of this final toast.”
I paused, looking round at this disparate group of people. I felt the presence of the ones who were now dead but who had also stood in this house drinking champagne; David and Edith, Maureen and, most importantly, Alicia.
I held out my hand to Annie who took hold of it and squeezed it.
We raised our glasses and spoke as one.
“To family.”
INIQUITIES TRILOGY 1
Winner: David St John Thomas Prize for Fiction 2007
“Ted’s Book”
‘I couldn’t put it down”
“Cracking good read”
Children begin by loving their parents; after a time they judge them; rarely, if ever, do they forgive them.
Oscar Wilde
Softback: ISBN 1-905237-731 Hardback: ISBN 1-905237-936
INIQUITIES TRILOGY 2
“Charles’s Book’
‘Brilliant!”
“Powerful page turner”
All that is necesssary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.
Edmund Burke
Softback: ISBN: 1-905886-517 Hardback: ISBN 1-905886-524