Johann was about to explain how he came to be there when it began to rain again.
‘Never mind,’ the woman continued. ‘You can tell me later. You look as though you need something to eat more than you need to stand around in the rain explaining yourself to an old busybody like me.’ She took Johann’s arm and led him out into the lane, which was no more than a muddy track between hedgerows. ‘Look at you,’ she added. ‘You need dry clothes, too. You’re shivering.’
‘I must go back to Munich,’ Johann protested. ‘There are things I have to do.’
‘Ja, ja. All in good time. If you don’t take better care of yourself, pretty soon you won’t be able to do anything.’
Johann found that he didn’t have the strength to resist the woman, and how his stomach groaned. He’d lost track of how long it had been since he’d last eaten. They came to another gate and turned onto an even muddier track that ran to a single-storey dwelling with a smoking chimney. Johann couldn’t deny that it looked inviting after all he’d been through since fleeing Vienna five days ago. The woman took him inside and led him to a bedroom where she began to undress him. It was only then that she could see how dishevelled he really was. His wet clothes were close to threadbare in places and torn in others.
She tutted. ‘If you’re all that stands between me and the Russians, heaven help us!’ she said. She soon had Johann stripped to his underwear. ‘I’ll leave you to deal with the rest. You’ll find blankets in the closet.’
‘Thank you,’ Johann said, and the woman left the room with his clothes over her arm.
Johann could have collapsed onto the bed beside him and not cared if he ever woke up again were it not for his need to find Ava. For now he found the blankets and began to wrap them around him, catching his pallid, malnourished body in the dressing table mirror as he did so. He wondered how it was possible for one man to collect so many cuts and bruises and yet still be able to stand long enough to look upon himself as he did.
Drawn by the heat from the fireplace, he found the old woman in the sitting room. She was putting more logs onto the glowing embers as he entered.
‘Sit down,’ she said, indicating the chair closest to the fire.
As the logs began to flame, instantly brightening the otherwise grey afternoon, the woman left Johann to gaze into them with his thoughts. A short while later she returned with a steaming mug in one hand and a hunk of bread in the other.
‘It’s soup,’ she said. ‘It’s all I can offer you for now.’
Johann took it and immediately began to devour the meal. The soup was almost too hot to drink, but he didn’t care. He gorged himself for a full minute until it was all gone. ‘Thank you. I’m Johann. What’s your name?’
‘I’m Frau Olberg,’ she said. Her tone softened. ‘You can call me Martha.’ She sat down opposite him. ‘Now what are you doing in Gilching? Are you a deserter?’
Johann didn’t like to think of himself as such, but he was unable to deny it. His reasons seemed justifiable to him under the circumstances, and they were certainly not borne out of fear or cowardice. But as he had made no attempt to rejoin what remained of his regiment, he doubted a court martial would see it that way.
‘I plan to find my unit again as soon as I’ve finished my business in Munich,’ he said. ‘I’ve come from Vienna. The Russians overran the city and we retreated.’ He went on to tell Martha about the air attack and the shelling. ‘Something struck my head,’ he continued. ‘When I regained consciousness I found myself alone with nothing but the bodies of my Kameraden around me. If anyone survived the attack, they must have fled for their lives, but it seems the shelling was only a farewell as no Russians came for me. They must have had another objective in mind. Berlin, I suppose.’
‘You were lucky. I’ve heard what the Russians do to their prisoners.’
‘Yes, I was lucky,’ Johann said. ‘But then only the lucky survive such things.’
‘That’s likely true enough. How’s your head? Let me see it.’
Martha stood up and began to inspect Johann’s head. It took no time to find the wound. ‘The blood has dried in your hair. I’ll have to clean it. Does it hurt?’
‘Not any more.’
‘Good.’ Martha sat down again. ‘So why are you here?’
Johann briefly explained the situation with his wife and her parents, and how he had decided he must return to Munich to find out what had happened to them.
‘I had a motorcycle,’ he continued. ‘It had taken a little damage, but it still ran, so having no idea where else to go, I rode through Linz and then to Salzburg. The fuel ran out soon after I crossed the border into Germany. After that I was forced to make the rest of the journey by bicycle and on foot.’