1. Anna’s Change of Heart
Anna was growing up. Occasionally she brought up subjects she had never raised before. Some related to human relationships. Others touched on faith and religion. Peppi recalled, in particular, a conversation they had one evening on their way home. They had been shocked to witness a van knocking a young man off his motorcycle. Once they had recovered, they continued their walk home. Then, unexpectedly, Anna asked: “Papa, does the Good Lord really exist?”
“You ask two separate questions, my pet. One is whether God exists. The other is whether He is good.”
“Our teacher says He exists and is good. She says He loves all of us. Is she right?”
“Then why did He let this young motorcycle rider die on the road? The poor youngster was only four or five years older than you.”
“My teacher would say we are too small to understand Him.”
“Your teacher, then, must be grand: obviously, she claims to understand Him.”
Anna did not reply. Instead, she looked sullenly at her father. The conversation, though, was the first sign of a change in Anna’s demeanour. Shortly after her fifteenth birthday, she began to distance herself from Peppi. She appeared to have lost her affection for him and remained aloof.
Initially, Peppi assumed that his pet was growing up and her aloofness was simply a passing phase. Anna, though, continued to maintain this distance and, worse still, never smiled when he was around. Genuinely irked, Peppi asked her what the matter was. “Nothing, Papa,” came the reply, and Anna slipped out of the room.
In his frustration, Peppi turned to Helga but, again, drew a blank. “You can’t expect a young woman to go on acting like a little girl!” she said dismissively.
“I know. This is what I keep telling myself. But often I sense that Anna is hostile, perhaps even afraid of me.”
“Aren’t you just fancying all this?” asked Helga, still doubtful.
“Am I a fanciful chap, Helga?” asked Peppi.
“Not normally!” conceded Helga. “Alright, I’ll look into it.”
Some two weeks later Helga resumed their conversation. She had raised the subject with Anna but got nowhere. Anna remained uncommunicative and elusive.
“You are right, Peppi,” she told him. “Something is wrong; but I’ve no idea what it can be. You must remain patient. Sooner or later we’ll get to the bottom of it.”
“It’s just awful: feeling that she doesn’t love me anymore!” exclaimed Peppi.
“I don’t think that’s the case; but I can’t be sure. And you mustn’t apply pressure, Peppi! It would only make things worse. So be sensible,” said Helga. She then added, flustered: “It would all be so much easier if you were a believer. You would turn to the Good Lord.”
“We’ve been through this many times. I won’t profess a faith I don’t accept!”
“I’ll keep praying for your enlightenment,” sighed Helga.
Later that evening, Peppi retired to his study, unlocked his safe and took out his special bottle. As always, the cork slipped out readily but the hearty swig did not bring him comfort.
“I need your help, Theophil,” murmured Peppi. He had not beheld his metaphysical friend since that memorable day in Munich, when he saw him, principally, through the eyes of Dad. Occasionally, though, when he asked for help or guidance, a gentle voice responded in his head. In all previous instances it had counselled or proposed a solution.
“I’m afraid there is not much I can do for you this time.”
Resignedly, Peppi closed his eyes.
“Why, Theophil?” asked Peppi after a while.
“All your previous ‘riddles’ could be solved by an application of reason. That, as you know, is where my skill lies. But I am no good at handling human emotion.”
“I’ll have to be patient, then,” said Peppi.
“Yes: take Helga’s advice,” agreed the voice in Peppi’s head. “But don’t look so crestfallen. Have a good look at the panel painting you purchased two days ago from the scruffy peddler, the one who calls on you from time to time.”
“Judging from the motives and composition, it’s a 13th century work.” The connoisseur’s smile spread on Peppi’s face.
“Have a good look at the lower left hand corner,” urged the voice.
“It has been overprinted. I wonder what’s under it.”
“Let me clean it for you.”
As if by magic, the ugly patch of dark paint disappeared. Using a piece of chamois, Peppi gently wiped the surface. When he had finished, his eyes opened wide. A diminutive image of a smiling Lucifer was staring right at him.
“Albigensian?” Peppi was referring to a religious group that had thrived in Southern France during the 12th and 13th centuries. Unlike other factions of Christianity, they emphasised the inherent dualism of good and evil. When the Roman Catholic establishment’s attempt to convert them failed, the entire sect was annihilated in a crusade.
“Albigensian, painted in Toulouse. This relic survived the first cultural revolution – the first ‘burning of vanities’ in the pious medieval world,” confirmed Theophil.
“I gave that peddler just 300 marks for it,” sighed Peppi.
“But that was what he asked for,” the gentle voice said soothingly. “And, my dear Peppi, we both know you’d never sell this piece. So – my boy – get a grip on yourself. As the British say: you win some, you lose some. Life was not meant to be a bed of roses.”
“As our History Master used to say: everybody has a cross to bear,” conceded Peppi.
“True, Peppi, except that I am not at all fond of the cross!” The voice chuckled, and then faded.
Resignedly, Peppi accepted his rejection by Anna. To escape the feeling of emptiness that descended on him from time to time, he spent many evenings in his office at Schultz & Stölzenfeld. Frequently – and although Lucy ran Theophil’s Antiques efficiently – he found excuses to fly to London. In due course, he became a familiar figure at Artiquar and a regular contributor to its quarterly.
When he felt disinclined to spend the evening in the club, he scanned the entertainment pages of The Times. Like many foreigners, he had developed a penchant for British comedies and musicals. Occasionally, he went with Lucy to a show in the West End. After one such outing, as the two of them enjoyed a cup of coffee back at home, Peppi confided: “If your mother agreed, I’d make London my headquarters. London is nicer than Munich.” Lucy nodded, smiling.
Shortly after Peppi returned from one of his sojourns in London, Anna made an unexpected request.
“Some of my friends are going up to Hamburg for a fortnight. Mind if I join them, Papa? The new term begins in three weeks and I haven’t had a break.”
“Have you told your mother?”
“She said it’s OK – if you agree.”
“You will be careful, Anna, won’t you,” said Peppi anxiously. Although Anna’s playful demeanour had been replaced by a sober, mature countenance, Peppi was overcome by the protectiveness he continued to feel for his younger daughter.
“Of course,” laughed Anna. “Papa: soon I’ll be seventeen! I’m not a child any longer!”
“I know,” Peppi hurried to concede. “But you have never been away on your own for so long!”
“It’s time I started – don’t you think?”
“Very well then,” yielded Peppi, charmed by Anna’s friendly manner.
Anna came back full of impressions. She admired Hamburg and Kiel and thought Helgoland was a “cute little spot”. Proudly she showed her parents a series of snapshots. Some were taken in front of places of interest, like the Michaelis Church in Hamburg. Others were beach and boating scenes. In some of them she stood next to a tall and good looking man who appeared to be a few years older than she. The smile on her face reminded Peppi of her expression when she used to sit on his lap in years gone by. He was not surprised when, a few weeks later, Helga told him that Anna was receiving regular letters from Hamburg and was writing back promptly.
“Writing back promptly: that’s not like Anna,” said Peppi thoughtfully.
“Young women act this way when they set their heart on a man,” answered Helga.
“Who is he?”
“He’s a student of theology. His name is Otto Schwartz. Anna is very much taken with him.”
“Is it a passing crush?”
“I’m not sure. She read me one of his letters. He sounds like a nice young man; and I think he’s steady. He expects to be ordained in a year or two.”
Shortly after she finished her Gymnasium and obtained her Matura [the Mid European Secondary School Leaving Certificate], Anna had a heart-to-heart with Peppi.
“Papa – I want to talk to you about my future,” she told him.
“Go ahead,” said Peppi warmly, marvelling, as often before, at the change in her outlook and appearance. His younger daughter had lost her frivolous interest in smart clothes and innovative coiffeurs. She had grown into a seriously minded young woman of character. Her neat appearance and forthright manner were bound to leave an impact on many a man looking for a dependable and presentable wife.
“Papa, you will not like what I’ve got to tell you. Oh, I know you want me to enrol in a university; like Lucy did. But I’m not as smart as she and I am not interested in book learning.”
“What do you want to do, then?” asked Peppi, bewildered.
“I want to attend a school for professional secretaries, Papa!”
“But why?”
“I’m good at languages and I’m well organised. I can be of real use in a large company.”
“Then why not study business management?”
“Because I don’t want to run my own business and I don’t want to become an executive. I don’t want the responsibility.”
“What, then, is your main aim in life?” asked Peppi.
“I want to be a good wife and mother,” said Anna.
“So the professional skills are to be a sort of insurance, I suppose?” asked Peppi lamely.
“That too. But I may have to help my husband out for a few years.”
“Don’t you see that this is unnecessary, Anna? If you ever needed help, I’d be there. Don’t you realise?”
“I know, Papa. But I don’t want to depend on anybody.”
“I see,” said Peppi, a lump rising in his throat.
“And, Papa,” continued Anna, embarrassed yet determined to set all her cards on the table. “I want to enrol in the School for Secretaries in Bremen.”
“What’s so special about Bremen? Why not Frankfurt or Hamburg?”
“Mama told you about my friend Otto. He has just been ordained and constituted a curate in a protestant church in Bremen.”
“I see,” Peppi repeated himself.
“And the school is excellent; I’ve checked!”
“Does your mother approve?”
“She does. But I need your help, Papa. It’s a two year course; and it’s expensive.”
“Very well then,” said Peppi. “And, Anna, best of luck.”
“Thanks, Papa.”
2. Helga’s Decline and Demise
The large suburban house, which the Stölzenfelds had purchased shortly after Peppi became old Herr Schultz’s partner, felt empty after Anna’s departure. Peppi suggested that they sell it and move into a flat in an inner district. Helga, however, refused to hear of it. She loved her garden, felt at home in her large kitchen and hated the idea of living in the inner city. Peppi gave way gracefully. To ensure that Helga would not feel isolated, he decided to give London a miss for the time being. Helga, though, encouraged him to fly over from time to time.
“You like London, Peppi. And I don’t want Lucy to feel cut off.”
“But I don’t like the idea of your staying alone in this huge house!”
“Don’t be silly, Peppi,” protested Helga. “Believe it or not – I can still look after myself.”
The trips to London revived Peppi’s morale. After some hesitation, he accepted an Honorary Stewardship at Artiquar. On his next visit to the English capital he joined a well-known dining club and after another few months purchased a share in an Austrian restaurant in Chelsea.
“Lucy, can’t you persuade Helga to move to London or, at the very least, to accompany me when I come over?” asked Peppi one evening.
“Mother will not leave Munich before Anna completes her course.”
“But Anna has moved to Bremen; and I don’t think she’ll ever return to Munich.”
“I know, Papa. But mother won’t listen.”
“Then I’ll have to be patient,” sighed Peppi. “But you know, Lucy, next month I’ll be 72!”
“You don’t look it, Papa,” soothed Lucy. “So stop talking like a septuagenarian.”
In the event, Peppi’s patience was not tested for long. One morning, as he was tiptoeing into their bedroom with two cups of steaming coffee, Helga did not rise to take the tray from him. Having placed the tray on his bedside table, he called out Helga’s name softly. She did not move. With a growing sense of unease, he nudged her, first lightly, then, when she did not react, more vigorously. Still there was no response. Peppi gingerly turned her on her back. One look at her face confirmed that she was dead.
3. Peppie’s Credo
After the funeral, Peppi and his two daughters had a quiet meal in a neighbourhood restaurant. For a while, each was lost in thought. Peppi was the first to break the silence.
“I can’t live alone in the big house,” he said.
“Why don’t you sell it and buy a flat near the shop?”
“I thought you might like to have it,” he responded lamely.
“I’ve decided to settle in London,” said Lucy.
“I prefer Bremen, or even Hamburg, to Munich,” nodded Anna.
Once again there was a lull in the conversation. The waiter served dessert and coffee. Peppi sensed that Anna was eager to get away. Nevertheless, he felt the need to unburden himself.
“I never thought Helga would go before me. She was only forty-nine years old.”
“There are no guarantees, Papa,” observed Lucy.
“I know: but it was a shock,” said Peppi. “My only comfort is that I did all I could to make her happy.”
“But you didn’t accept the Good Lord,” said Anna sternly. “She craved for your conversion more than for anything else; and it’s not as if you didn’t know.”
“Anna …” started Lucy.
“It’s alright, Lucy. Yes, I knew, Anna. But I am not a believer; and a conversion without faith is a sham. And I am not a hypocrite! Your mother would not have wanted me to pretend!” said Peppi. He did not flare up, but a distinct firmness crept into his tone.
“Would it have been so difficult for you to accept a simple truth?” Anna snapped angrily.
“What do you mean by that?” asked Peppi, ignoring Lucy’s imploring look.
“I mean ‘faith’ – simple faith in God!” said Anna, unruffled.
“I was unable to do this; just as others are unable to offer of a word of comfort when those who love them are down!”
“Papa!” exclaimed Lucy, shocked.
“No, Lucy,” Peppi had raised his voice. “Don’t try to stop me. If we must have it out it’s better that we do so now. I’ve swallowed a lot but I’m not taking this bullshit. Anna, what gives you the right to use your faith to criticise me? Who on earth do you think you are?”
“I am only expressing my views as a believer – as a Christian. Why shouldn’t I? And what gives you the right to dismiss my views out of hand?”
“I’ll tell you what gives me the right,” Peppi yelled. “In the course of two wars I have seen people dying around me like flies. Those who escaped unscathed were usually not the decent ones, not the brave ones, but the malingerers, the rogues, the racketeers. And how about plain civilian? Many poor or middle-class persons, who did not have the means to escape, perished. Worse still, I saw innocent men and women being dragged from their homes by the Nazis. And I don’t remember your fine church or any other unaffected religious group standing up for them. And this is not an isolated episode! Long before our own ‘enlightened’ days, some of the worst crimes in history were committed under the banner of one faith or another. As far as I am concerned the annals of all religions are soaked in the blood of murdered men and women. And I won’t throw my lot in with any of them! So don’t try to bully me, don’t patronise me and don’t offer me homilies. I have the same right to have my views as you yourself!”
Peppi was breathing hard; his face contorted. But he did not regret his outburst: just for once he openly expressed views he had formed over the years.
Peppi’s two daughters stared at him speechless. Never before had their father lost his temper or, indeed, spoken harshly to either of them.
“I didn’t intend to bully you. Perhaps I should have held my tongue. But you always encouraged us to speak our mind and I thought you should know how I felt about … about all this; I mean about mother’s sadness,” said Anna after a long, uncomfortable pause.
“When she agreed to marry me, Helga new that I was not a believer. And I told her I did not intend to search for God. On this front I never relented: I remained true to my own convictions – my own creed. I was a good husband to her in all regards. Neither she nor you ever wanted or had any cause to complain.”
“Neither of us would argue with you on this,” Lucy stepped in quickly. She was relieved to see that Anna nodded. “And I think we’d all better have a rest,” Lucy added.
As they rose, Anna told her father: “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Papa. I’m sorry if I did. I shouldn’t have spoken. If you feel you don’t want to support me any longer, I’ll understand. I think I know how you feel.”
“I will of course see you through,” said Peppi. “But issues of religion and morals shall remain out of bounds.”
This altercation led to a change in Peppi’s heart. As soon as the estate had been probated, he put the family home on the market. Out of the handsome price it fetched, he purchased a comfortable two-bedroom flat a short walk from Schultz & Stölzenfeld. The balance he invested in a portfolio of blue-chip securities with a private bank in Zürich.