A Ladder to the Sky(3)

And then, to my surprise, I was interrupted once again. I looked up and there was the young waiter, now changed into a pair of dark jeans, a casual shirt with two buttons undone at the neck and a leather jacket with a fur trim around the collar. He carried a woollen hat in his hands.

‘I’m sorry to disturb you,’ he said, and I knew immediately that he was not German as I’d assumed but English, his voice betraying echoes of Yorkshire or the Lake District. ‘It’s Mr Erich Ackermann, isn’t it?’

‘That’s right,’ I said, surprised that he should know my name.

‘May I shake your hand?’

He reached out. The skin on his palm looked soft and I noticed how neatly trimmed were his nails. A fastidious creature, I thought. He wore a plain silver band on the middle finger of his right hand.

‘Certainly,’ I said, a little bewildered by this turn of events. ‘We don’t know each other, though, do we?’

‘No, but I’m a great admirer,’ he said. ‘I’ve read all your books. I read them before Dread came out too so I’m not just jumping on the bandwagon.’

‘That’s very kind of you,’ I said, trying to conceal my delight. ‘Very few people have.’

‘Very few people are interested in art,’ he replied.

‘That’s true,’ I agreed. ‘But the lack of an audience should never be a deterrent to the artist.’

‘I’ve even read your book of poems,’ he added, and I grimaced.

‘They were ill advised,’ I said.

‘I disagree,’ he said, quoting a line from one that made me hold my hands in the air, pleading with him to stop. He beamed then, and laughed, displaying wonderfully white teeth. As he did so, a slight crinkle appeared beneath his eyes. He was so very beautiful.

‘And your name?’ I asked, pleased to have an opportunity to stare at him.

‘Maurice,’ he replied. ‘Maurice Swift.’

‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Maurice,’ I replied. ‘It’s nice to know that there are still some young people who are interested in literature.’

‘I wanted to study it at university,’ he said. ‘But my parents couldn’t afford to send me. That’s why I came to Berlin. To get away from them and earn my own money.’

He spoke with a certain bitterness in his tone but stopped himself before he could say anything more. I was surprised by how dramatic he had become, and how quickly.

‘I wonder whether you might let me buy you a drink,’ he continued. ‘I’d love to ask you some questions about your work.’

‘I’d be delighted,’ I said, thrilled by the opportunity to spend some time with him. ‘Please, Maurice, take a seat. But I’ll have to insist that they’re charged to my room. I couldn’t possibly allow you to pay.’

He looked around and shook his head. ‘I’m not allowed to drink here,’ he said. ‘Employees aren’t permitted to socialize on the premises. If they catch me, I’ll get fired. I shouldn’t even be talking to you, in fact.’

‘Ah,’ I said, putting my glass down and checking my watch. It was only ten o’clock; there was plenty of time until the bars closed. ‘Well, perhaps we could go somewhere else, then? I’d hate to get you into trouble.’

‘I would love that,’ he said. ‘I slipped into your interview earlier for about twenty minutes when I was on my break. I was hoping to hear you talk but an actor was reading from Dread and not doing a very good job of it, I thought.’

‘He was annoyed that I’d chosen a section for him to read that he didn’t like.’

‘But it’s your novel,’ said Maurice, frowning. ‘What business was it of his?’

‘That’s what I thought,’ I replied. ‘But he had different ideas.’

‘Well, by the time I had to come back here he was still reading so I didn’t get to hear you answer any questions and there were so many that I would have liked to ask. You did have something of a scowl on your face all the way through, Mr Ackermann.’

I laughed. ‘Let’s just say it was not an entirely pleasant evening,’ I said. ‘Although it has brightened up considerably now. And please, call me Erich.’

‘I couldn’t.’

‘But I insist.’

‘Erich, then,’ he said quietly, testing out the word on his tongue and looking, I thought, a little nervous. Perhaps it was my ego or my awoken desires or a combination of the two that made me happy to feel the stream of veneration making its delicate journey from his lips to my ears. ‘You’re sure that you want to go out?’ he asked me. ‘I don’t want to intrude upon your time. You’re not too tired?’

‘I’m not tired at all,’ I said, even though I was quite exhausted from an early flight and the disappointing event. ‘Please, lead the way. I daresay you know the city better than I do.’

Standing up, I cursed myself for the slight groan that emerged from my mouth as my limbs adjusted to being erect once again and, without planning to do so, reached across and held on to him by the upper arm for a moment. The muscle was hard and tightened beneath my grip.

‘Where shall we go?’ I asked, and he named a bar on the other side of the Tiergarten, close to the Brandenburg Gate. I felt a momentary hesitation, as this would bring us close to the ruined Reichstag, a place I did not particularly care to revisit, but nodded. I could not risk him changing his mind.