careworn, old before his time, Jack Kelso, still in his uniform, stood in the boys’ bedroom shortly after his arrival in Boston, and looked at them sleeping. Elsa stood at the door, a little afraid, gazing at a stranger.
‘Fine,’ he said. ‘They look fine. Let’s go down.’
Abe Kelso stood by the fire in the magnificent drawing room. He was taller than Jack, with darker hair, but had the same features.
‘By God, Jack.’ He picked up two glasses of champagne and handed one to each of them. ‘I’ve never seen so many medals.’
‘Loads of tin.’ His son drank the champagne down in a single swallow.
‘It was bad this past year?’ Abe inquired, as he gave him a refill.
‘Bad enough, though I never managed to get killed. Everyone but me.’ Jack Kelso smiled terribly.
‘That’s an awful thing to say,’ his wife told him.
‘True, though.’ He lit a cigarette. ‘I see the boys have fair hair. Almost white.’ He blew out smoke.
‘They are half German.’
‘Not their fault,’ he said. ‘By the way, my personal score there at the end? It was forty-eight.’
She saw then, of course, just how damaged he was, but it was Abe who spoke with forced cheerfulness. ‘Now then, Jack, what are you going to do with yourself? Back to Harvard to finish that law degree? You can join the firm then.’
‘You must be joking. I’m twenty-three years old, and if you include my time machine-gunning the trenches, I’ve killed hundreds of men. Harvard is out, the firm is out. I’ve got the trust fund my mother left me. I’m going to enjoy myself.’ He emptied the glass. ‘Excuse me, I need the bathroom.’
He limped out. Abe Kelso poured a little champagne into her glass. ‘Look, my dear, he’s been through a lot. We must make allowances.’
‘Don’t apologize for him.’ She put down her glass. ‘That isn’t the man I married. He’s back there in those Godforsaken trenches. He never got out.’
Which wasn’t far from the truth, for in the years that followed, Jack Kelso acted as if he didn’t care if he lived or died. His exploits on automobile-racing circuits were notorious. He still flew, and crash-landed on three occasions. He even used his motor yacht to run booze during Prohibition, and his capacity for drink was enormous.
One thing that could be said for him, however, was that he treated his wife with grave courtesy. For her part, Elsa played the good wife, the elegant hostess, the affectionate mother. She was always Mutti to Max and Harry, taught them French and German, and they loved her greatly, and yet their affection for their drunken war-hero father was even greater.
He’d managed to buy a Bristol fighter and kept it at a small flying club outside of Boston that was owned by another old air ace from RFC days, named Rocky Farson. The boys were ten the day Jack strapped them into the rear cockpit and took them for a flight. Their birthday treat, he called it. The boys loved it and Elsa threatened to leave him if he ever did such a thing again.
Abe, as usual, was the man in the middle, trying to keep the peace, on her side because Jack had been drunk, but since Jack was rich in his own right, there was no controlling him.
Nineteen twenty-eight and 1929 came. Disillusioned not only with her marriage but with America, Elsa had only her sincere friendship with Abe and her love of the boys to sustain her. They were, of course, totally alike: their straw-blond hair and green eyes, their high German cheekbones, their voices, their mannerisms. No individual blemishes or birthmarks set them apart. Most times, even she couldn’t tell them apart, and neither could Abe. It was a constant sport for them to change roles and make fools of everyone. Totally bonded, the only thing they ever argued about was who owned Tarquin. The fact that Max, as the eldest by ten minutes, was legally Baron von Halder never bothered them.
It was the summer of 1930 when the tragedy happened. Jack Kelso was killed when his Bentley spun off a mountain road in Colorado and fireballed. What was left of him was brought back to Boston, where Abe, now a Congressman, presided over the funeral. The great and the good were there, even the President, the twins in black suits on either side of their mother. They seemed strangely still, frozen almost, and older than their twelve years.
Afterwards, at the big house when everyone had left, Elsa sat by the open French window in the drawing room, elegant in black, and sipped a brandy. Abe stood by the fire.
‘Now what?’ he asked. ‘It’s a bleak prospect.’
‘Not for me,’ she replied. ‘I’ve done my bit. I was a good wife for years, Abe, and put up with a hell of a lot. I want to go back to Germany.’
‘And live on what? Most of the fortune his mother left is gone. Sad to say, there’s not much coming to you in his will, Elsa, you know that.’
‘Yes, I know,’ she said. ‘But you’ve got millions. More than you know what to do with. You could help me, Abe.’
‘I see.’
‘Abe, we’ve always been good friends. Let me go home. I’ll restore the estate, I’ll restore the family name.’
‘And take my grandsons with you?’ He shook his head. ‘I couldn’t bear that.’
‘But they’re my sons, too, they belong with their mother. And Max – Max is the Baron von Halder. You can’t make him give that up, Abe, it wouldn’t be right, it wouldn’t be just. Please, Abe, I’m begging you.’
Abe Kelso sat for several long moments, the air thick with regret and loss. Finally, he spoke.
‘I’ve often worried about it, you know – what would happen when Max was old enough to appreciate the title. Would he move away to claim it, leave us all here? I always thought I’d have at least a few more years before it came to that, but –’ He stopped and sighed. ‘But with Jack dead, and you wanting to leave, there’s not much of us left, is there?’ He smiled sadly. ‘You’re right, Elsa. Max does deserve that chance. And so do you. But on one condition.’ Here his voice became firm and strong. ‘Harry stays here. I won’t give up both my grandsons, I couldn’t possibly agree to that. I’ll give you what you need to restore the von Halder estate – but Harry stays with me. Are we agreed?’
She didn’t even argue. ‘Agreed, Abe.’
‘Okay. We can sort out the details later about visitation, schooling and the rest. The only thing that worries me is how the boys will feel about this.’
‘I’ll talk to them.’
‘No, let me first. Ask them to come to my study, would you?’
Later that evening before dinner, when she went back to the drawing room, Max and Harry were surprisingly calm, but then they’d always been like that: alone, cool, detached, on the outside looking in. Although they loved their mother, they were aware of her inner selfishness, so the latest turn of events came as no real surprise. She kissed them in turn.
‘Your grandfather has told you?’
‘Of course. They understand,’ Abe said. ‘Took
