1950 - My finally successful holiday to France continued...
I spent most of that first day resting, reading and relaxing. I ate my tea in LeBeau's restaurant downstairs, where he made a point of serving me personally. I'm not actually sure what it was I ate. My French has always been good enough for me to communicate with other people, but complicated French meal names were lost to me back then, and I'm sure LeBeau deliberately picked something he knew I wouldn't understand.
I ate my tea silently, observing the people around me and hoping that Anne would also be coming down to the restaurant to eat. I felt a little disappointed that she didn't, although I understood she probably wanted to spend some time catching up with her sister. I didn't lack company for the night though.
Shortly after finishing dinner and thinking over the war and whether I could trust LeBeau not to make my holiday too uncomfortable, I spotted one of Hogan's other main trouble makers, the Englander, Peter Newkirk. He marched into the restaurant like he owned the place, walked over to LeBeau, spoke a few words to him and then they both headed in my direction.
"Excuse me Monsieur," began LeBeau. "Would you mind if this gentleman shares your table? As you can see, we are absolutely full and there is nowhere else for him to sit."
I looked around me. Ten out of fifteen tables were free, most of the customers having finished their meals, paid and left. I looked back at LeBeau and Newkirk. Both wore identical smirks and Newkirk cocked an eyebrow.
"Of course I don't mind!" I responded, giving Newkirk an overly cheerful and obviously sarcastic smile. "What a shame you will be too busy to sit with us Monsieur LeBeau!"
"Oh, I'm sure I could find some time to spend with the two of you – I have staff enough to manage without me for a few minutes. Allow me to go and get us some drinks first."
As LeBeau headed off, Newkirk plonked himself down on the chair opposite me.
"Well, how's me favourite Kommandant going then?" he asked in that cockney accent of his. "Enjoying another trip to France are we?"
"How would I know? I only got here today." I answered, contemplating just leaving and going back to my room. During the war, Newkirk broke into my safe more times than I could count, and his pick-pocketing skills are too good to be true. He put them to use against me far more than I ever liked to admit. I trusted him far less than LeBeau, and never really enjoyed his company unless he was handing me some form of alcohol when Hogan had talked him into playing waiter as a cover for some scheme or other.
Newkirk looked thoughtful, and didn't respond right away. I began to get the impression he was a deeper thinking man than I had ever given him credit for during the war. Then he, like LeBeau, decided he needed to know what happened to my monocle.
I shrugged.
"It started as a novelty during the war, and it amused me a little. Then it just became habit."
Again, for some reason I didn't feel the need to explain just how beneficial the monocle was when it came to annoying people – mainly my fellow German officers. I think I felt that I lost a lot of my identity and mystery about myself, so for years after I kept the real reason I wore the monocle a partial secret. Yes, a piece of glass that covered one eye was one of my biggest secrets. Of course, everyone I met after the war who knew me when I wore the monocle wanted to ask about it.
Before Newkirk could respond, I changed the subject by asking what he was doing in France. He answered happily enough and I could detect more than a hint of pride in his voice.
"After the war, Louis and me sister Mavis decided to fall madly in love. They're gettin' married 'ere next week."
I think Newkirk was going to say more, but at that moment a dreadful screaming began upstairs, accompanied by banging noises (like someone hitting a wall or furniture) and women shouting. Immediately Newkirk and I ran upstairs, followed by most of the other customers who were still left at the restaurant. LeBeau pushed past everyone and headed directly for the room opposite mine, where Anne and her sister were staying. The screaming was definitely coming from in there, I realised. The sound of breaking glass made everyone jump, and a couple of customers hesitated, hovering down the hallway.
Just as LeBeau put his hand on the doorknob to open the door, it was opened from the other side and a boy no more than seven or eight years appeared. He was red in the face, his eyes were bloodshot and tear streaked and I was just able to spot hair the same orange as Anne's before he pushed past everyone and ran down the stairs. The boy was quickly followed by Anne and her sister.
Many of the customers looked offended and chose to leave, thinking there was something wrong with the family, but I decided to follow to see if I could help.
"Don't bother," said LeBeau, grabbing my arm. He looked angry. "Maurice will wear himself out soon and the women will catch him. This is the last night they will be spending in my hotel though – I will not have them break my furniture and scare off half the customers!"
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Schultz looked up from the diary thoughtfully. He had met Anne's sister a couple of times, but never known she had a son. What had happened to Maurice, and why had he never been mentioned before?
Schultz decided not to read anymore that night, thinking a fresh start in the morning might be a good idea. He called Monique, picked up her favourite teddy bear and showed her where she could sleep on the foot of his bed before changing into his night clothes and going to sleep himself.
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Author's Notes:
Sorry it has been so long since I updated. Uni got very busy in the last month, and I have also been very sick. I'm better now though, and uni is finished for the year, so I plan to do a lot of writing! I will also soon update my other story, "One of Those Weeks."
For those who are curious: yes, I do plan to include the fates of as many Hogan's Heroes characters as possible, including our favourite Germans Hochstetter and Burkhalter.