Karla - Cover

Karla

Copyright© 2015 by White Zulu

Chapter 15

When we returned from our extended walk there still was no outward sign of life at the inn. Even the chicken were list- if not entirely lifeless. Granny had disappeared. We took the liberty of unlocking the taproom, switched on a few lights, opened a couple of windows. I knew how to work the taps, switched on the pumps and pulled myself a large Pilsener, found an opened bottle of half-decent white wine, filled a glass for Elise.

Eventually we heard the roar of the tractor outside, much shunting and shouting. This was repeated a few more times till all the trailers had been moved inside the huge barn. Now, hopefully, gastronomy could run its course.

If the young woman was surprised to see us enjoying our refreshments, she did not show it. With approval she noticed my check marks on the beer mats but told me that they were unnecessary. The first drinks would be on the house. She excused herself to go and freshen up. She did smell rather strongly. The heady aroma of a healthy, sweaty woman in her prime.

An energetic banging of pots and pans coming from the darker recesses of the inn alerted us to our rumbling stomachs. There was no need for a menu. The now clean and glowing hostess told us that a pork roast was almost ready. Would we like some soup, another drink? Yes to both. What followed was one of the minor miracles which do happen all too rarely. The soup was an excellent clear broth with slivers of carrot, leeks, celery, parsley and tiny chunks of fried beef, deliciously spiced. The roast was everything one could desire. Succulent, a lovely beer crust, the cuts sufficiently generous, huge yeast dumplings, a creamy dark sauce, some dressed lettuce. Simple German country fare at its best, so seldom found nowadays amongst all those pizzerias, Thai, Chinese and similarly dubious eateries and, dare I mention them, the ever present depravity of the box movers, the MacDs, Burger Kings, Colonels, which seem to have replaced most of our erstwhile armed occupationary forces, with vastly more devastating success at re-education. We were well sated when Alfred turned up.

"Sorry, my friend, we just could not wait. Enjoy your meal first. Talk will follow later."

I got a beer for him and put in the order for another meal. We noticed his pleasure at the excellent meal, as well as the surprise of our host.

"Excuse me, sir, but did you just happen to walk in here? You seem to know each other, though. We don't get many casual customers, and any locals will come later in the evening."

When we all started laughing, the good woman was first confused, then offended.

"Please, don't take this wrong. But I think that something has gone awry with our reservations. When I phoned last week, I made it clear to the person I spoke to that we would require two rooms, a double and a single, for about two weeks, starting today. You met our friend earlier, when we checked in. Or perhaps you didn't notice him then, busy as you were? And you gave us only the one key! So I picked up another one and put him in the room next to ours. Number 14. Is that alright with you?"

Suddenly, our host's face turned crimson, her eyes darkened. We feared for the worst – till, just as suddenly, she started to laugh madly, leaving us to wonder about the state of sanity around us.

"Don't worry, I'm OK now. This accursed sister of mine ... I shall strangle her. She told of your reservation, yes, three people, said you sounded shifty, wanted only one room, hinting at some orgies which surely were to follow. That's why you got the room with the biggest bed, the bridal room, extra towels of course! Her idea of a joke. Please forgive me, I'm so sorry."

We had to laugh with her, assured her that no damage was done and told her to go easy on her sister.

"Oh, I will. But she will have to do taproom duty tonight. A light-enough punishment because she likes to flirt with our guests. Here she comes. Act most upset. – Julia, come here, now!"

Her stern voice conveyed enough anger to make the pretty young girl, about 18 I would guess, approach us hesitantly.

"These are the guests you thought would engage in orgies and needed only one room. Would you prefer to apologise now, or should I tell your father of your latest prank?"

The poor creature blushed deeply and started to stammer. "I... , I ... Sorry, I didn't mean..."

But Alfred just flashed his easy smile at her. "Don't worry, dear. We all had a good laugh. But you may atone for your sins, all of them, really, by keeping us in good food and timely drinks during our stay here." He held up his empty glass. "May I have another one of these, please?"

With a happy, triumphant grin at her sister she snatched the glass out of Alfred's hand and rushed off to fill it.

Alfred told us little about his time with Karla, invoking physician-patient privilege. He did speak, however, of his programme for the next morning. He would, with Elise's help, repeat the treatment I had given Karla previously. More in depth this time, and with special attention to everything hinting at cancer. He also mentioned that he had refined his body-scanning abilities to provide a more accurate picture of the brain.

"I need this to ascertain that there is no physical debilitation. Our talks went well. Strangely, she does speak highly of you, Bert. Notwithstanding what went on before, your rapport with her is excellent, perhaps better than mine will ever be. This gives me great hopes that you, we, have done the right thing. What will you do tomorrow, Bert?"

"I shall go visiting with Karla's aunt again. There must be lots more she can tell me. And if she hears that Karla is getting better, she may be more forthcoming. I wonder, though, should I use one of your tabs on her as well?"

Elise flew into me. "Don't you dare, Berthold. She is neither your patient nor a subject to be manipulated at will. Will you never learn to behave properly again? Take the trouble and listen to her well, be honest with her and she will be honest with you. Your readiness to use the Heavy Matter frightens me. Treating Karla is one thing, perhaps even Helmut, but don't think for a moment that you are above us common people. You are no better than those sham doctors if you do."

Well spoken, indeed. I would resist any temptations. The pub began to fill up with locals, eager for a brew and talks and jokes with their mates. We watched their antics, listened to their banter and translated for Alfred when necessary. Their strong dialect, barely recognisable as German, had him baffled. One especially boisterous fellow, a huge figure even amongst this rough lot, caught my eye. I suggested to Alfred he use his download feature on him to acquire mastery of the dialect. He wouldn't hear of it, afraid the man would snap him in half should he notice anything untoward.

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