Kane and Abel Read online

  The first bullet hit him in the side of the head, and as he sank to his knees he continued to wave and to shout a frantic warning to his advancing comrades. The second bullet hit him in the neck, and a third in the chest. He lay still in the German mud and waited to die, never having even seen the enemy - a dirty, unheroic death.

  The next thing William remembered was being carried on a stretcher, but he couldn’t hear or see anything, and wondered whether it was night, or he was blind. It seemed a long journey, and then his eye opened and focused on a colonel who saluted before limping out of the tent. There was something familiar about the man, but he couldn’t think what. The medical orderlies took him into the tent and placed him on an operating table. He tried to fight off sleep, for fear it might be death.

  He was conscious that two people were trying to move him. They turned him over as gently as they could, and then one of them stuck a needle into him. He sank into a deep sleep, and dreamed of Kate, his mother, and then of Matthew playing football with his son Richard. He slept.

  He woke. They must have moved him to another bed; a glimmer of hope replaced the thought of inevitable death. He lay motionless, his one eye fixed on the canvas roof of the tent, unable to move his head. A nurse came over to study a chart, and then him. He slept.

  He woke. How much time had passed? Another nurse. This time he could see a little more, and he could now move his head, if only with great pain. He lay awake as long as he possibly could; he wanted to live. He slept.

  He woke. Four doctors were studying him. Deciding what? He could not hear them speak, so he learned nothing. He was moved once again, this time to an ambulance. The doors closed behind him, the engine started up and the ambulance began to move over rough ground while a new nurse sat by his side holding him steady. The journey felt like an hour, but he could no longer be certain of time. The ambulance reached smoother ground, and finally came to a halt. Once again he was moved, this time across a flat surface and then up a slope into a dark room. After another wait the room began to move, another ambulance perhaps. The room took off. A nurse stuck another needle into him, and he remembered nothing until he felt the plane landing and taxiing to a halt. They moved him once again. Another ambulance, another nurse, another smell, another city. New York. There’s no smell like New York. The latest ambulance drove him over a smoother surface, continually stopping and starting until it finally arrived at its destination.

  They carried him out once again, up some more steps and into a small, white-walled room, where they placed him in a comfortable bed. He felt his head touch a soft pillow, and when he next woke he thought he was alone. But then his eye focused and he saw Kate standing beside him. He tried to lift his hand and touch her, to speak, but no words came. She smiled, but he knew she could not see his smile, and when he woke again she was still there, but wearing a different dress. How many times had she come and gone? She smiled again. He tried to move his head a little, and saw his son Richard. He had grown so tall, so good-looking. He wanted to see his daughters, but couldn’t turn his head any further. They moved into his line of vision. Virginia - she couldn’t be that old, surely? And Lucy - it wasn’t possible. Where had the years gone? He slept.

  He woke. He could now move his head from side to side; some bandages had been removed, and he could see more clearly. He tried to say something, but no words came. Kate was watching him, her fair hair shorter now, no longer falling to her shoulders, her soft brown eyes and unforgettable smile, looking beautiful, so beautiful. He said her name. She smiled. He slept.

  He woke. Fewer bandages than before. This time his son spoke.

  ‘Hello, Daddy.’ His voice had broken.

  He heard him and replied, ‘Hello, Richard,’ but didn’t recognize the sound of his own voice. A nurse helped him to sit up. He thanked her. A doctor touched his shoulder.

  ‘The worst is over, Mr Kane. It won’t be long now before you’re able to go home.’

  He smiled as Kate came into the room, followed by Virginia and Lucy. So many questions to ask them. Where should he begin? There were gaps in his memory that demanded filling. Kate told him he had nearly died. He knew that, but had not realized that over a year had passed since his division had been ambushed in the forest at Remagen.

  Where had the months of unawareness gone, life lost, resembling death? Richard was now twelve, already preparing for St Paul’s. Virginia was nine and Lucy nearly seven. He would have to get to know them all over again.

  Kate was somehow even more beautiful than he remembered her. She told him how she had never accepted the possibility that he would die, how well Richard was doing at school, and how Virginia and Lucy were quite a handful. She braced herself to tell him about the scars on his face and chest; they would take time to heal. She thanked God that the doctors were confident there was nothing wrong with his mind, and that, given time, his sight would be fully restored. All she wanted to do was to assist that recovery. When he could finally speak, his first question was, Who won the war?’

  Each member of the family played a part in the recovery process. Richard helped his father to walk until he no longer needed crutches. Lucy helped him with his food until he could once again hold a knife and fork. Virginia read Mark Twain to him - William wasn’t sure if the reading was for her benefit or his, they both enjoyed it so much. Kate stayed awake at night when he could not sleep. And then, at last, the doctors allowed him to return home for Christmas.

  Once William was back in East Sixty-Eighth Street, his recovery accelerated, and the doctors were predicting that he would be able to return to work within six months. A little scarred, but very much alive, he was finally allowed to see visitors.

  The first was Ted Leach, somewhat taken aback by William’s appearance - something he hadn’t been prepared for. William learned from him that Lester’s had flourished in his absence, and that his colleagues looked forward to welcoming him back to work. He also told him that Rupert Cork-Smith had passed away. His next visitor, Tony Simmons, also had sad news: Alan Lloyd too was dead. William would miss their prudent wisdom. Thomas Cohen called by to say how glad he was to learn of William’s recovery, and to confirm, as if it were necessary, that time had marched on by informing him that he was now semi-retired, and had turned over most of his clients to his son Thaddeus, who had opened an office in New York. William remarked on both the Cohens being named after apostles.

  ‘By the way, I have one piece of information you ought to be aware of.’

  William listened to the old lawyer in silence, and became angry, very angry.

  41

  GENERAL ALFRED JODL signed Germany’s unconditional surrender at Rheims on May 7, 1945. The war in Europe was over. Three months later Abel arrived back in a New York preparing for victory celebrations to mark the end of the war.

  Once again the streets were filled with young people in uniform, but this time their faces showed relieved elation, not forced gaiety. Abel was saddened by the sight of so many men with one leg, one arm, blind or badly scarred. For them the war would never be over, no matter what pieces of paper had been signed on the other side of the world.

  He walked into the Baron in his colonel’s uniform, but no one recognized him. When they had last seen him in civilian clothes more than three years ago, there had been no lines on his then youthful face. He now looked older than his thirty-nine years, and the deep furrows on his forehead showed that the war had left its mark. He took the elevator to his 42nd floor office, where a security guard told him firmly that he was on the wrong floor.

  ‘Where’s George Novak?’ asked Abel.

  ‘He’s in Chicago, Colonel,’ the guard replied.

  ‘Then get him on the phone.’

  ‘Who shall I say is calling him?’

  ‘Abel Rosnovski.’

  The guard moved quickly.

  George’s familiar voice crackled down the line. Abel immediately realized just how good it was to be back - and how much he now wanted to go home.