Sirius (8 page)

Erich Korngold and his wife “Luzi” have two children, Ernst and Georg. They all live there together with the grandparents, Julius and Josefine, who fled Europe in November.

“Like us,” says Carl.

“I’d like to live like that one day,” gushes Else. “With my children, my husband, with all of you, all under one roof.”

Andreas Cohn writes her heartfelt love letters. He wants to come here, as soon as he can.

“Do you still love him?” asks Rahel.

“Yes,” says Else. “Very much.”

The waiter brings a dish which is declared by all at the table to be a sensation: round, oven-baked slices of dough covered with cheese, tomatoes and ham. An Italian invention.

Georg talks enthusiastically about his lectures with the philosopher Bertrand Russell, who has recently started teaching at the university.

“I thought you were studying medicine,” says his father in astonishment.

“I am,” replies Georg. “But there’s no harm in educating oneself more, is there?”

It turns out that there’s a pretty girl in the philosophy seminar, who giggles adorably whenever Russell goes into raptures about his theories.

“What are you giggling about?” Russell once asked.

The girl’s response: “If I knew that, I wouldn’t be here.”

Russell made her answer the topic of his next lecture.

Georg has already been to the movies with the girl, who is called Electra.

“Aha!” says his father.

“John Clark was in the film, by the way,” says Georg. “
Battle of the Giants
, a war film.”

“Oh, the war,” sighs Rahel.

The waiter brings the dessert. “Cassata,” an Italian ice-cream cake with candied fruits.

Else says: “Korngold is utterly convinced that Mendelssohn will survive Hitler.”

*

Carl Crown has been getting up in the mornings very happily of late. A curious development, which – according to Billy Wilder, if you remember – is a sign he has a dream. But what is it? He still doesn’t know.

What could he dream about? He’d like to transform himself, but into whom? Who would he rather be than himself?

It was a difficult question.

Take Giovanni Clarizzo, for example. He was a fisherman in a Sicilian village, then he transformed himself into a lifeguard in Hollywood, and now look at him – he’s a movie star called John Clark.

Was that Giovanni’s dream? Or was it fate?

Perhaps a person isn’t even aware of what they dream, until one day their eyes open and they see that life itself is simply dreamlike?

These are all questions which are going through Carl Crown’s mind on his morning drive to Beverly Hills. Sirius is with him again today.

Crown has now started to enter the palace with a relaxed, casual air, almost like a good friend of the household. And yet he has never exchanged a single word with Clark’s family. He only ever sees the children from a distance, when they’re feeding the flamingos or playing mini-golf or something of the sort. Only on one occasion was there any indication that there was a mother on the premises. She was lying back on a sun lounger on the pavilion by the lake, having her fingernails manicured. Presumably, behind her large sunglasses, she was picturing the time when she was still Gloria Hayson.

But today is different.

“Hi,” she says in a friendly tone. “I’m Gloria.”

The children, Emily and Garfield, rush straight over to the dog.

“Can we play with him?” asks Emily.

Garfield takes a fork from the breakfast table and throws it onto the meadow in the hope that the dog will fetch it.

John Clark comes over. “Would you like to play with the children, Sirius?” he enquires, a little stiffly, in much the same way someone might ask a prime minister to dance.

Crown tries to lighten the mood. “Sirius, show them what you can do!”

Sirius pricks up his ears. He goes up on his hind legs, does a somersault and lands on his front paws.

The children are stunned into silence. First their eyes go wide in amazement, then they scream with delight.

“Daddy, Daddy!” they call, “did you see that?”

Sirius repeats the performance.

The children are beside themselves. They shout with glee, clap their hands and hop all around Sirius.

Even John Clark throws up his arms and shouts: “Bravo!”

Gloria smiles.

Emily and Garfield romp around on the meadow with Sirius. The parents watch and lean in close to one another.

“I haven’t seen them this happy in a long time,” whispers Gloria.

“Nor us,” Clark whispers back.

A painter with no reservations about being kitsch would immediately immortalize this scene in oil paints and have it framed in gold. Man and wife, united in love. Children in the background, with dog.

Crown thinks: Well done, guardian angel.

He looks at John Clark, the family man. A reassuring yet unfamiliar sight. Almost impossible to believe that this is the same man who was plucking mambas from the vines in the Banana House.

Clark is wearing a high-cut, navy blue blazer with a white roll-neck pullover and grey gabardine trousers. His thick black hair is combed back with brilliantine and glistens in the sun.

Crown is surprised that he notices any of this.

Is his secret dream perhaps to be a tailor or a barber? Crazy. Maybe Hollywood drives a man crazy.

“Mama, come quickly!” calls Emily. “Look, Sirius can read!”

The book on the rattan lounger has reminded Sirius of his old showpiece. He flicks through page after page, then suddenly lowers his head down wearily onto the book and begins to snore.

“He thinks the book is boring!” cheers Garfield.

“It kind of gives me the heebie-jeebies,” says Gloria.

“But why?” asks Clark.

“I don’t know,” she replies. “To me, Sirius seems like a human who has turned into a dog. Just look at the expression on his face.”

Sirius lets them look deep into his eyes.

“It’s like he understands every word we’re saying,” says Gloria. “Maybe he can even speak, but just doesn’t want to.”

Clark takes his wife in his arms and kisses her.

“You still believe in miracles,” he laughs.

*

Time flies. Days with grey skies become more frequent. Winter jacket months are coming.

A hat comes in handy too. Even a scarf, on occasion.

The weeks in which everything rhymes have arrived. The songs being played on the radio suddenly contain words like “mistletoe” and “cinnamon”.

Christmas is just outside the door.

Literally.

Outside every front door in Hollywood, an illuminated Father Christmas stands there jovially. His red coat and his reindeer sleigh seem particularly unnecessary; after all, it isn’t snowing.

Rahel is feeling depressed. She misses Berlin. She misses the house. She misses the children. She misses her husband. She misses everything, actually. Often she doesn’t see her husband for days on end. When he sets off in the mornings she’s still asleep, and when he comes back at night she’s already asleep.

Being lonely is a tiring business.

She no longer has Sirius as a source of comfort, either. Why would he want to be here, anyway, when it’s much nicer elsewhere?

Carl probably thinks the same.

Rahel looks at the photo on her bedside table. What happened to the young woman with the dazzling smile? Who is the man next to her? Was that really Carl?

It’s only been a year since they left. But to her it feels like a lifetime.

There are days when she doesn’t speak a single word. When that happens, she can’t stand it anymore and flees from the house.

Today is one of those days. She sets off and walks. In front of the drugstore, a man is selling Christmas trees.

“Christmas trees! Christmas trees!” he calls. “They make you happy. Better than any drug.”

Rahel buys a tree.

A short while later it is standing in their tiny living room, but it doesn’t make her happy. Nothing is as miserable as the sight of a bare Christmas tree in an empty room.

Things look very different in John Clark’s house, of course.

The entire palace is illuminated with fairy lights, and a huge star of Bethlehem gleams on top of the Christmas tree.

Carpenters have constructed a wooden stall that is clearly meant to represent the nativity scene. A real live donkey stands in front of it. Astoundingly, the life-size figures of Mary and Joseph are actually moving. On closer inspection it becomes clear that they are actors. Extras from “Warner Brothers”, presumably.

Crown and Sirius are overwhelmed by the spectacle.

“Shhh,” whispers John Clark, gesturing towards the nativity. “They’re auditioning.”

“What are those chairs in the hay?” asks Crown. “Are they for the Three Wise Men?”

Clark shakes his head. “No, for us. We’ll sit there on Christmas Eve, and Bob Hope will read the Nativity Story.”

Crown thinks to himself how wonderful it would be if John Clark were to add: “Why don’t you come along?”

But he doesn’t.

*

Not another word about Christmas. The festive season is over now, it was bleak, and the Crown family has resolved that everything will be okay.

The New Year begins cheerfully. Crown receives a bonus for his services as guardian angel, from Jack Warner himself, as well as a pay rise.

John Clark would say: “Let’s go and have a drink!”

Carl says: “Rahel, my darling, let’s go and get you some beautiful new clothes!”

They go to Saks in Beverly Hills, the newly opened branch of Saks Fifth Avenue in New York. The dress they pick out is a design by Elsa Schiaparelli. Narrow-waisted, padded shoulders, knee-length. The latest fashion.

“You look like Carole Lombard,” gushes Carl.

The salesman whispers: “I don’t mean to be indiscreet, but Clark Gable was in here recently, newly wed with Carole Lombard.”

He makes a dramatic pause and fans the air with his hand.

“She bought the very same dress.”

Carl suppresses a whoop of joy.

The new dress needs to be baptised. A Hollywood night follows which couldn’t have been more wonderful even if John Clark had orchestrated it.

Dinner at Ciro’s. Errol Flynn comes over to their table, nods towards Carl and says: “I know you. Aren’t you the one with the funny dog?”

Then he bows in front of Rahel. “I do apologise, that was before. As of today I will ask: Aren’t you the one with the beautiful wife?”

Rahel blushes.

A short while later he sends a bottle of champagne to their table, with a card saying “Love Errol”.

After dinner, they go to the Garden of Allah. The air is scented with magnolia, even though it’s only January.

Rahel sees the illuminated swimming pool in the palm tree garden. Lovers are cuddling up to one another on Hollywood swings, sipping at cocktails and smooching. The moon is high in the night sky.

“I want to go swimming!” cries Rahel.

“Why not?” answers Carl, pressing into her hands the swimming costume he has bought for her as a surprise. To the waiter he says: “Please show the lady the changing rooms, then bring us two daiquiris.”

Then he jumps into the water. In his suit and tie.

Rahel is speechless. Is she dreaming?

It isn’t long before a giggling couple are swimming in the pool, the man in evening attire, and the woman flings her bare arms around him and whispers: “Happy New Year!”

*

Sirius sees a truck driving past with a huge bone on it.
The Revenge of the Dinosaurs
is being filmed in Hall 7.

Bones, he thinks. Perhaps there’s chicken in the canteen. He slinks off towards the kitchen exit. It won’t hurt to have a sniff around and see what’s on the menu today.

Two men are walking towards him. They stop and point.

“Look,” says one.

“Yes, I see,” says the other.

They step closer.

“Not bad,” says one.

“Yeah, very good,” says the other.

Sirius stares at them wide-eyed. What do the men want?

“Cook?” calls one through the kitchen window.

Sirius suddenly feels uneasy. Is it possible that the men suddenly have an appetite for dog meat?

“Cook!” calls the other. “Is this your dog?”

The cook shakes his head. “No, he belong to John Clark, I think. Or his chauffeur.”

“Thanks,” say the men, walking away again.

A short while later, Carl Crown is summoned to Tyrone Chester’s office. The director is famous for films so sentimental that people need new tear ducts after watching them.

“I hear you have a dog,” says Chester.

“Yes,” answers Crown.

“We’re looking for a dog at the moment,” says Chester. “A cute dog. Is your dog cute?”

“I think so,” answers Crown.

“The dog needs to melt hearts,” says Chester. “Does your dog melt hearts?”

“He melts mine,” says Crown.

“That’s not enough,” replies Chester. “He needs to melt the hearts of millions of viewers. Can he do that?”

“I don’t know,” says Crown.

“Okay, we’ll give it a go,” decides Chester. “From tomorrow. Fifty dollars for the week. What’s his name?”

“Sirius,” says Crown.

“Sirius,” repeats Chester. “Like the star? That’s a good sign.”

*

The movie is about an unscrupulous con artist who plans to marry and fleece a rich widow, but her boundless love for him softens his heart, and in a moving plot twist he ends up caring for her when she becomes terminally ill.

“And the dog?” asks Crown.

“He belongs to the rich widow,” explains Chester.

“What does he need to do?” asks Crown.

Chester waves his hand nonchalantly. “Not much. He’s just there. Widows with dogs are more likeable.”

Fair enough.

“Scene 1,” calls Chester. “Let’s give it a go.”

In the living room set, dripping with wealth, is a seating area with numerous chairs. These emphasize the widow’s solitude at the very first glance. There are tracks laid on the floor so that the cameraman can glide effortlessly on his podium from the long shots to the close-ups.

The widow takes her place on the couch, has a quick touch-up from the make-up artist and murmurs her lines to herself. Sirius is supposed to lie at her feet. No problem for him.