He was led through the mansion’s grand, marbled hallway, past a wide sweeping staircase and into a sunlit drawing room that looked out over what appeared to be a bowling green. Johann Langner was sitting in a wheelchair by one of the many windows, covered almost from head to foot in a barber’s gown. Behind him, Ingrid Keller was trimming his hair. She didn’t once look up from what she was doing, even to acknowledge Tayte’s presence.
‘Mr Tayte is here to see you, Herr Langner,’ Christoph said, and with a sharp bow of his head, he left the room.
‘Ah, Mr Tayte,’ Langner said. ‘Well, come and sit down. You must be weary. I know you’ve made a very long journey to get here, haven’t you?’
‘Yes, I suppose I have,’ Tayte said, thinking that Langner was referring to the journey Tayte had set out on to find his family all those years ago. ‘Thank you for seeing me again,’ he added as he sat down on the sofa, facing Langner. ‘How are you?’
‘Good of you to ask, Mr Tayte. I’m pleased to say that I’m much improved.’ He raised a hand towards the window, pointing. ‘Do you play lawn bowls?’
Tayte looked out at the green, and then back to Langner. ‘No, I can’t say I’ve ever tried it.’
‘I find it very therapeutic, and I’m sure the activity has helped to keep me going longer than I perhaps should have. Unfortunately, it’s not very popular in Germany. I saw the game being played in England some years ago and I took quite a liking to it.’ He laughed. ‘Ingrid here has been my fiercest opponent,’ he added, and Tayte didn’t doubt him.
Langner’s dry laughter trailed off. ‘So, your research here in Munich has led you to believe that I’m your paternal grandfather, and that I have a son called Karl, who you believe is your father?’
‘Yes,’ Tayte said, knowing he still couldn’t rule Volker Strobel out, and at the same time hoping that perhaps Langner could. He was more keen than ever now to hear about the terrible thing Langner had said his wartime friend had done. ‘At least, I believe Ava Bauer is my paternal grandmother,’ Tayte added. ‘I know my mother married someone called Karl, and I found a Karl in the records, adopted by Ava Bauer’s uncle—your wife’s uncle—Heinz Schr?der. I’ve come here in the hope that I can clarify that, and to confirm whether you’re Karl Schr?der’s biological father.’ Tayte paused and chewed his lip. ‘Or whether perhaps you know of someone else who is.’
‘Ah, you’re referring to Volker Strobel, of course?’
Tayte nodded. ‘You said previously that Strobel had done something terrible. Did it concern Ava? Why weren’t you with Ava after the war? And how come your own adopted son, Rudi, knows so little about her?’
‘So many questions,’ Langner said, dry laughter in his voice again.
Tayte thought it sounded forced, perhaps to make light of a darker memory that had stirred within him. A moment later, Langner coughed and fell silent, as if composing himself. Then he swallowed hard, and Tayte thought a lump must have risen in his throat.
‘I’m sorry to be so direct,’ Tayte said to break the silence.
‘That’s quite all right. There’s little point now in beating about the bush, as the saying goes. Rudi knows so little about Ava because until now I’ve chosen not to talk about her. As for the rest . . .’
Langner trailed off, and Tayte watched him lift his eyeglasses and wipe a tear from the corner of his one good eye. He reminded himself then to tread carefully. He didn’t want to upset Langner to the point where Keller would once again feel obliged to ask him to leave.
Langner sniffed back his emotions, straightening his posture as best he could. Around him, fine wisps of white hair continued to fall to the snip, snip of Keller’s scissors. ‘I think perhaps it would be best if I concluded the story I began to tell you and your friend when you first came to see me. Then I think you might have the answers you’re hoping to find.’
‘That would be great,’ Tayte said, beaming with enthusiasm.
Langner gave a slow nod. ‘Very well then,’ he began. He cleared his throat. ‘Towards the end of the war I lost contact with Ava, so when the opportunity presented itself I came back to Munich to look for her. Vienna had fallen. Germany’s once mighty military machine was beating a fast and final retreat to Berlin. The country was in chaos, but somehow through the smoke and the debris, I found my answers.’
Tayte saw Langner clench his fists then, as though angry at the memories that were fighting to free themselves from his obviously troubled mind.
‘You want to know what terrible thing Volker Strobel did?’ Langner continued. ‘I’ll tell you what that man did. Heaven knows I must tell someone, while I still can.’
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Munich. 26 April 1945.
At the boarded-up house of Ava’s parents in the borough of Sendling, Johann Langner continued to stare at the baby cradled among the blankets in Ava’s mother’s arms with disbelief. At last he fell to his knees, his face lined with anguish, his mind full of questions to which he sensed the answers would reveal a terrible truth.
‘Adelina! What happened? Where’s Ava?’
A tear fell onto Adelina’s cheek. She sat forward and held out the baby, ‘She is here, Johann.’ Her voice sounded laboured.