55

Mick Boyle is in a dressing gown in a deckchair beside the beautiful indoor swimming pool.

Lena is swimming gently, effortlessly.

There is no-one there but the two of them.

“I’ve never told you how very sorry I am about how it’s ended up between you and Julian.”

Lena stops near the edge of the pool.

“Anyway, I wanted to apologise for his behaviour.”

“Apologise? It’s not your problem.”

“Yeah, but to be honest, I could have done a little more as a father.”

“Julian’s done what he felt like without worrying about the consequences. He smelled it in the air. I’m starting to smell it myself.”

“Smell what?”

Lena smiles. “The heady scent of freedom.”

Mick smiles as well. “Yes, I know that smell.”

“But, honestly, Pa has never mentioned anything about the Queen, about performing his ‘Simple Songs’ in London and how he’s turned her down?”

“Nothing. Not a word.”

“It’s a very strange friendship you two have.”

“Strange? No, it’s a very good friendship. And in good friendships you only talk about the good things. He obviously thought the Queen’s invitation wasn’t one of them.”

“He says that he can’t perform ‘Simple Songs’ because my mother was the only one who could really sing them.”

Mick looks surprised. “He said exactly that?”

“Yes, that’s what he told the Queen’s emissary.”

“It’s taken him eighty years to say something romantic and who does he say it to? An emissary of the Queen, that’s who!”

Lena and Mick smile at each other.

“He watches me at night. And for the first time in my life last night, he gave me a caress while I was sleeping. But I wasn’t asleep. Only pretending.”

“Yes, parents know when a child is only pretending to sleep.”

Lena’s eyes are bright with tears and she turns her back on Mick to hide her pain.

“Are you worried about him?”

“No, not at all.”

56

We know that this hotel is a very quiet place, but it has never been as quiet as it is now.

Now, that is, that all those present are looking in one direction at a table where – paying them no heed – Adolf Hitler is devoting himself to a hearty breakfast.

The amazing thing is that they are all looking at him with deference, uneasily, as if they have found themselves in front of the real dictator sixty years later, so much so that someone leaving the dining-room ends up giving the Führer a barely perceptible bow and says, “Good morning.”

The Führer returns the greeting with a haughty nod.

Then Jimmy’s Hitler takes a handkerchief from his pocket, blows into it, rubs it four times across his nose, just as Fred always does, then folds it and puts it back in his pocket.

From his table, Ballinger watches him, and seeing Hitler adopting his own habitual gesture, allows himself a strange smile.

Then the silent German couple stops in front of Jimmy-as-Hitler and the woman glowers at him.