Anna and Otto were waiting for us in the sitting room. I was struck by Anna’s appearance. The middle-aged woman who got up to meet us bore little resemblance to the charming little girl and vivacious teenager whose captivating smile livened up Peppi’s family album. I was put off by her severe expression, her firm mouth and her eyes – eyes devoid of mirth. Otto, in contrast, appeared friendly and well balanced and his eyes were warm.
“I’m sorry we missed the service,” he said as he shook Lucy’s hand. “The doctor took his time, and Anna didn’t want to leave home before she knew all was well.”
“I hope the service was well attended and that everything went smoothly. I take it our absence was not noticed,” interjected Anna.
“The church was crowded, and everything was fine,” said Lucy. “Your absence wasn’t noticed. Few people knew that Papa had two daughters.”
Anna swallowed hard. Otto opened his mouth to speak but changed his mind. I was lost for words. After an uncomfortable pause, Anna broke the silence. Stepping over to me, she held out her hand:
“You must be Professor Berger. Lucy has told me a lot about you. I’m sorry we’ve not met before.”
“The loss is mine,” I assured her, translating clumsily from English to German. “Peppi sometimes talked about you. So, you are not a stranger.”
“You were very fond of him. I’m glad you were here so that Lucy wasn’t all on her own.”
“Actually, I flew down from Singapore after Lucy rang to tell me. I had to say goodbye to him.”
“Cousin Peter kept vigil by Papa’s coffin last night,” Lucy broke in.
“By his coffin? Lucy, how could you let him?” Anna had paled perceptibly.
“I tried to stop him. But he wouldn’t listen to me!”
“Didn’t you warn him about Papa’s … alliance?”
“I know all about it, Anna,” I told her. “It started after a certain event in Munich.”
“And weren’t you afraid to be there alone?”
“Of course not. Why should Peppi, or whoever is behind him, wish to harm me? Actually, he cheered me up yesterday!” I had not intended to say the last words. The gentle voice I had heard before prompted me to utter them.
“So he did appear to you last night. I came down to make sure all was well and heard you laughing your head off,” said Lucy.
“Peppi told me some very funny anecdotes,” I said lamely.
“Oh … my God.” Anna was shaking. “He could have taken you with him, Peter!”
“To what purpose, Anna? Don’t you realise I would have gladly gone with him if he had asked me?”
Anna stared at me, nonplussed. Otto, to my surprise, looked at me with understanding.
“You loved him, Professor Berger,” he said gently.
“I did; and, as often before, talking to him gave me heart!”
“What did you talk about?” he asked.
“He told me anecdotes. But we conversed seriously about Lucy, about the Chef of his favourite restaurant in Chelsea and, well, about Anna.”
“About me? What did he say?” Anna asked nervously.
“He asked me to find out why you had cut him off, Anna,” I said openly.
“Was he very upset?”
“He was, rather. You, see, he never ceased to love you. He wanted to have you back; but – to use his own words – he wasn’t prepared to crawl.”
“I see; and you were right all along, Otto. I wish I had listened to you!”
“I told you the same thing,” said Lucy.
“What on earth was it then?” I asked eagerly.
“Shall I tell him?” Anna’s glance shifted from Otto to Lucy.
“I think you’d better,” said Otto. Lucy just nodded.
“Alright, then. The night it happened I had already gone to bed, but then realised I had forgotten to give Papa his good-night kiss. So, I went up silently – intending to surprise him. Well, when I opened the door quietly, Dad was taking a sip from that funny bottle of his. For a moment he was still Papa – my Papa …”
“… and then?” I prompted as she stopped, too embarrassed to proceed.
“A change came over him and – I know it sounds crazy – but he was no longer Papa. I was looking at the devil, Peter – the devil incarnate, with his red eyes and malicious grin.”
“What happened?” I asked frantically.
“I fled to Lucy’s room – too frightened to yell. She calmed me down. When we tiptoed back to the study, Papa was sitting at his desk. But he didn’t see us: his eyes were staring at some point far beyond us. I spent the rest of the night in Lucy’s bed. I didn’t dare go back to my own room.”
“But don’t you realise it was a hallucination? I’ve seen Peppi drink from the same bottle. The stuff galvanised him: but he always remained Peppi.”
“Don’t you think I tried to tell myself it had been a mirage – a trick of the light? But it was no use: I knew what I had seen.”
“I understand. You were unable to dismiss it from your mind! But how did you feel about him after this?” I asked.
“I was afraid of him.”
“Didn’t you love him any longer?”
“I did; but couldn’t overcome my fear!”
“Poor Peppi,” I gave vent to my feelings. “All this suffering – produced by an illusion – a phantasmagoria.”
“But was it an illusion, Peter?” asked Otto.
“What else?”
“Was your experience last night yet another illusion?”
“Assessed on a rational plane – it had to be. My subconscious was playing tricks on me!”
“Your subconscious could, undoubtedly, project Peppi. But how about the anecdotes. Had you heard all of them before?”
“Not as far as I can recollect. Still, Dad might have told them to me when I was a boy; and I may have forgotten them.”
“And is that the only rational explanation that comes to your mind?”
“It is,” I conceded.
“But then, aren’t you being dogmatic?”
“How do you mean?”
“I can see two possible explanations for last night’s events, Peter,” said Otto. He was still speaking gently, with no hint of anger or irritation. All the same, I sensed his fervour.
“The rational and the irrational?” I asked.
“You could call them that.”
“What would you call them, Otto?”
“The Freudian and the metaphysical: an unaccountable dream or a genuine appearance of the devil. Bearing in mind that you had no earlier recollection of some of the anecdotes, the second explanation appears the more likely one!”
“But Otto – how can you, rationally, accept the existence of the devil? How can you rationally explain his willingness to manifest himself in such a manner?”
“I have no need to resort to reason, Peter. Once you accept God, the metaphysical world need no longer be established by logical argumentation. It becomes part and parcel of your perception of the world!”
“So how do you explain my having remained unharmed; and, come to think of it, how do you explain Peppi’s decency, goodness and humanity?”
“My faith tells me that the devil has his own designs and motivations. I cannot and do not feel the need to explain or discern what he is up to. My duty is to give him a wide berth.”
“Without grounds for accepting that he is evil – that he is out to get us?”
“His malignity is pronounced by my faith. He is evil because he opposes God. I have no right – and feel no desire – to question this precept.”
“Just as I, Otto, will not accept his existence, let alone his being an enemy, unless my mind, my intellect, drives me to this conclusion!”
“For Otto, for Anna and for myself faith prevails over any precepts dictated by personal observations or reasoning,” interjected Lucy.
“Just as you, Peter, regard your intellect as overriding any dogma seeking to prevail over it,” concluded Otto, speaking even more gently than before.
The argument went deep. To my relief, though, it had not created tension. We had tea together and, to diffuse the spirit of dissension, conversed about Peppi’s early days in Munich. We then turned to Otto’s work in Bremen and to my own life as a law teacher. Later on, when Anna returned all flustered from a telephone conversation with the friend who was looking after her sick child, Lucy suggested that they return home early the next morning. Before all of us retired, I mentioned to Anna the generous provisions made for them in Peppi’s will.
“You mustn’t reject the bequest, Anna. You can’t deliver such a final, undeserved slap in his face.”
“We can put the money to good use,” declared Otto in response to Anna’s questioning look.
“I’m sure you can. I intend to do so with what he left me,” said Lucy warmly.
Next day Anna and Otto flew back to Bremen. Lucy began to wind up her affairs. I had to attend to the packing and shipping to Singapore of the treasures left to me by Peppi. The only enjoyable event during this spell was a luncheon at Franz’s. Despite Peppi’s absence it went well.
Two days before my scheduled return to Singapore, Lucy decided to fly Munich to visit Helga’s grave. She urged me not to move to a hotel and mentioned, in passing, that she had decided to keep the house.
“You will write to me regularly, Lucy?” I asked before she disappeared into the departures lounge.
“As long as you reply punctually,” she chuckled.