Avril took the young German into the sitting room, tapping on David’s study door as she passed to say they had a visitor. David emerged, happy enough to be interrupted from the task of sorting out the agenda for the next PCC meeting. When he walked into the sitting room he found Avril and a young man standing by the window looking out over the garden. He had no idea who the man was, but he crossed the room to welcome him with an outstretched hand.
‘How d’you do? I’m David Swanson.’
Dieter shook his hand and said, ‘I am Dieter Karhausen. I am the airman shot down here in the war.’
David looked startled. ‘Are you indeed? Well...’
‘Felix just brought Dieter over,’ Avril explained. ‘He’s been with Henry and Caroline, thanking Henry for his help when he was wounded; and Charlotte, of course.’
‘I come to thank all the people who saved me then. As you see I am now well.’
‘Why don’t you two sit down and have a chat,’ suggested Avril, as always the vicar’s wife, ‘and I’ll make us some tea.’
‘Good idea,’ David said. ‘I could murder a cup of tea.’
He looked enquiringly across at Dieter, who smiled and said, ‘Tea would be very pleasant, thank you, Mrs Swanson.’
Tea, again, he thought wryly. Always tea with the English. But it was hospitality. These people hadn’t turned away from him as his father had suggested they might, and he was pleased it was offered and he happily accepted. Avril disappeared into the kitchen and David waved Dieter to an armchair, sitting down opposite him.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘tell me why you’ve come to see us.’
‘Your wife is right. I come to Wynsdown to thank people who saved my life. Dr Masters has said me that two have died after the war, but there are others I would like to thank, the men who cut me from the tree. Mr Shepherd and others. Mrs Shepherd who tended me at her farm.’ Dieter looked across at the vicar, his gaze steady, and went on, ‘I also come to salute my comrades who died in the crash. Felix took me to the church to see their grave. I believe you are the one who had my comrades given proper burial.’
David inclined his head but said nothing, waiting for Dieter to continue.
‘I understand you did not know the names. But “Known only to God” is sad. I say to Felix perhaps we can put their names on the stone. He said I must ask you.’
‘You want their names added to the memorial?’
‘They died because of the war. Life cut short, but each was a man, loved by his family. It would mean much to them... and to me, if the names can be put on the stone. I can pay for this. And...’ he paused before adding, ‘if you will say prayers for them again.’
‘I can’t see a problem with this,’ said David, though he could envisage some reaction from one or two members of the community, ‘and if you arrange for the stone to be updated, naming those who died, I’ll be happy to rededicate it to their memory.’
Just then Avril arrived back carrying the tea tray and David told her what Dieter was asking for.
‘That sounds very fitting,’ she said as she poured the tea. ‘Why don’t you discuss it with Felix, David?’
‘It was Felix who sent Dieter here,’ her husband replied. ‘And I think it would be a good idea for him to employ the stonemason, ’ he went on, turning back to Dieter. ‘There’s a very good man in Cheddar and I’m sure Felix will help you organise it all.’
Dieter, who had felt a surprising affinity with Felix, agreed, said he would go and see him and asked for directions to the manor.
As they watched him walk down the path, David said to Avril, ‘I do think it’s a nice idea to add the names to the stone, but I’m not sure what sort of welcome it’ll receive from some of our locals. Better to have Felix involved, and that way perhaps we can keep any antagonism to a minimum.’
‘Will there be any?’ wondered Avril. ‘Antagonism, I mean? After all, it’s eight years since the end of the war.’
‘Who knows?’ David shrugged. ‘But people have long memories.’
‘But he’s no threat to anyone, now. Look at him, he’s struggling to walk.’
‘It’s what he was, not what he is now, that people will think about,’ replied her husband.
Had he but known it, the rumours about Dieter were already flying round the village. In the post office, Mabel had mentioned, in passing, that they had a German visitor staying at the pub.
‘What’s he here for?’ demanded Nancy.
‘I don’t know,’ replied Mabel, adding with a touch of self-righteousness, ‘and I wouldn’t dream of asking him.’
‘How long’s he staying?’ asked Doreen Marston who’d come in during this conversation.
Mabel shrugged. ‘Didn’t say, but,’ she decided that it was time to slip in another little nugget of information, ‘he did ask me where the doctor lived.’
‘The doctor?’ echoed Nancy. ‘What’s he want a doctor for?’
‘I don’t know and I didn’t ask,’ answered Mabel, ‘but he does have a limp, so maybe he’s got a bad leg and’s come to get it seen to.’
‘Why on earth would a German come all the way to Wynsdown to see our doctor?’ demanded Nancy. ‘Don’t they have doctors in Germany?’
At that moment Sally Prynne came in and was immediately told all about the strange German who’d come to the village and was visiting the doctor about his legs.
‘Is he the bloke who was in the churchyard with the squire earlier?’ wondered Doreen. ‘I saw Squire with someone there, standing by that German grave, they was.’
‘Surely Felix Bellinger wouldn’t have any truck with a German come looking at graves,’ said Nancy. ‘He was a fighter pilot!’
‘What did he look like?’ asked Mabel.
Doreen shrugged. ‘Just a bloke. Not bad-looking. Got fair hair.’
Mabel nodded. ‘Sounds like him.’
‘What’s his name?’ asked Sally.
‘Not sure. His writing in our register was hard to read. Couldn’t make it out.’
‘You mean he wrote it like that so’s you wouldn’t know he was German?’
‘That’s silly, Dor,’ said Sally. ‘If he didn’t want you to know he was German he’d have used an English name. Stands to reason. Anyway, what was he doing in the churchyard?’
‘I told you,’ snapped Doreen. ‘He was looking at that gravestone for them airmen what crashed.’
‘Who was?’ The door had opened and Mavis Gurney came in. ‘Who was in the churchyard looking at gravestones?’
‘A German with bad legs who’s come to see Dr Masters,’ said Nancy. ‘He’s staying at the Magpie, but Mabel isn’t going to ask him why he’s come.’
‘Of course not,’ Mabel agreed. ‘None of my business.’
This remark was greeted by a gale of laughter. ‘Since when has that ever stopped you nosing?’ cried Sally Prynne.
‘I can’t stand here nattering all afternoon,’ sniffed Mabel, gathering up her shopping basket from the floor. ‘I got a pub to open.’ With that she swept out of the post office, leaving the others still chuckling. She needed to get back and try and find out more about her mysterious German visitor before anyone else did. She had run out of insider information.
That evening she wasn’t really surprised to see Bert Gurney, Charlie Marston and Arthur Prynne walk in. Charlie and Arthur walked up to the bar and ordered three pints of scrumpy, but Bert paused at the door, looking round the bar as if expecting to see someone he knew. There was no one and he joined the others, picking up his pint and looking across at Jack to say, ‘Not many in tonight, Jack.’
‘Early yet.’
‘Yeah. Well, heard you had someone staying. Thought we’d like to meet him,’ his eyes darted round the room yet again, ‘make him welcome to the village, like.’
Jack sighed. ‘Oh yeah?’ Clearly word of the German had got about and the women had sent their menfolk to find out more. ‘Well, he’s not here.’
‘We can wait, can’t we, lads?’ Bert downed his pint in one long swallow and banged the empty glass on the bar for a refill. With some misgiving Jack complied. He could see what sort of mood Bert was in and knowing what he could be like when he was tanked up, he didn’t want him causing trouble.
At that moment the door opened and Dieter walked in. It was clear to everyone that he was the man they’d come to see, an unknown man with fair hair who walked like a drunken sailor. Not immediately aware that he was a cause of any interest, Dieter came across to the bar and asked Jack for his key.
Bert moved to block his way and Dieter paused, a question in his eyes.
Bert, never one to pussyfoot around, looked him up and down. ‘You’re German, ain’t you? What you come here for?’
Dieter stiffened. He could see the belligerence in Bert’s eyes, but he didn’t think there’d be any real trouble standing at the bar of a village pub.
‘My name is Dieter Karhausen and I come from Cologne.’
‘That’s in Germany,’ confirmed Charlie helpfully.
‘Ah, but what you come for?’ demanded Bert.
‘I come to thank those who saved my life in the war.’
Bert looked at him narrowly. ‘Oh, yeah? And who are they then?’
‘The doctor and of course the men who helped cut me down from the tree.’
That really shocked Bert and his eyes widened as he turned to his mates. ‘You hear that, Charlie? This is the bugger from that Jerry bomber, the one what was dangling in the tree. Old man Shepherd made us cut him down.’
‘And for this I thank you,’ Dieter said.
‘Don’t thank me,’ sneered Bert. ‘If I’d had my way you’d still be up there... dangling.’
‘I know I was the enemy,’ Dieter said carefully, ‘but it saved my life... and my legs... that you cut me down and I thank you.’
‘So, you come back and expect us to be pleased to see you, do you?’
‘Bert,’ Jack spoke sharply from the other side of the bar, ‘that’s enough.’
‘Enough, is it? He turns up here, stays in our local and expects us to forget that not so long ago he was trying to bomb the hell out of us.’
Trying not to be provoked, Dieter said simply, ‘It was war.’
‘Yeah, it bloody was, and you were on the wrong fucking side, mate. So you can take yourself home again. We don’t want your thanks. We didn’t want to save your bleedin’ life, did we?’ He looked round his pals for confirmation. ‘I’d have shot you and been done. Now you’ve had your say you can bugger off back to Col... Col... whatever place you come from. You ain’t welcome here.’
‘I see,’ said Dieter, and reaching round him took the key that Jack was holding out to him. Without a backward glance he crossed the room and went up the stairs.
‘Satisfied?’ asked Jack wearily.
‘Surprised at you, Jack, giving him a room.’
‘His money’s as good as anyone else’s.’
‘Well, all I can say is that I hope you’re charging him double. We don’t want no Krauts round here.’
There had been a hush in the bar during Bert’s exchange with Dieter, but now the buzz of conversation had returned. Bert looked round at his two mates and said, ‘Pity Frank ain’t out tonight, he was there when we cut the bugger down.’
The three men spent another hour drinking, but Dieter didn’t reappear and at last they went home. As he strode out of the pub, Bert was smirking.
‘I told him,’ he said for at least the fourth time. But though he had indeed ‘told him’, he knew somehow that he’d come off worst in the encounter, and in public, and it made him determined to get his own back. No crippled Jerry airman was going to get the better of him.
Upstairs, Dieter lay on his bed. His father had been right after all. Not everyone appreciated the effort he’d made to come back and give his thanks. He’d seen the doctor and he’d seen Charlotte. He wondered if he should leave it now and go home, but the thought left him almost at once. He hadn’t just come in gratitude for his life, he’d come to pay his respects to his fallen comrades and that’s what he would do. Felix had agreed to take him down to Cheddar to see the stonemason in the morning, and he would go. Their names would be carved onto the stone whether the man in the bar liked it or not, and be damned to him!