Little Man, What Now? by Fallada Hans

Author:Fallada, Hans [Fallada, Hans]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
Publisher: Melville House
Published: 1933-01-02T08:00:00+00:00

THE PERFUMED CHRISTMAS-TREE AND THE MOTHER OF TWO. HEILBUTT THINKS WE’RE BRAVE. ARE WE?

Christmas had come and gone, a quiet little Christmas with a pine-tree in a pot, a tie, a shirt and some spats for Sonny, a maternity girdle and a bottle of eau-de-Cologne for Lammchen.

‘I don’t want you to get a sagging tummy,’ he explained. ‘I want to keep my pretty wife.’

‘Next year the Shrimp will see the tree,’ said Lammchen.

It turned out a very strong-smelling tree, and the eau-de-Cologne was used up on Christmas Eve.

Everything gets more complicated when you’re poor. Lammchen had a plans for the potted pine tree. She wanted to let it grow and repot it in the spring. The Shrimp would see it the next year and it would grow ever bigger and more beautiful, competing with the Shrimp in growth from Christmas to Christmas, their first and only Christmas tree. That was what was meant to happen.

Before the holiday Lammchen had put the pine tree on the cinema roof. God knows how the cat got at it, Lammchen hadn’t even known there were cats around here. But there were: she found traces of them on the earth in the pot, when they came to decorate it, and the traces were very smelly. Lammchen removed what there was to remove, she washed, and she scrubbed, but it was all to no avail. No sooner was the official part of the festivities over, the exchange of kisses, the deep look into each other’s eyes, the opening of the presents, than Sonny said, ‘Have you noticed the odd smell in here?’

Lammchen put him in the picture. He laughed and said: ‘Nothing simpler!’ then opened the eau-de-Cologne bottle and sprinkled some on the pot.

Oh, he did a lot of sprinkling that evening, which stunned the cat for a while, but then it awakened, victorious to ever-renewed life.

The bottle emptied and the cat still stank. Finally, before Christmas Eve was at an end, they put the tree outside the door. The smell had proved invincible.

And on the first day of the holiday, very early, Pinneberg went out and stole a little pile of garden earth. They re-potted the tree. But firstly it still stank, and secondly they found out that it wasn’t a proper tree, grown in its pot, but a useless replanted one that had been shorn of all its roots so it would fit the pot. A nine days’ wonder.

Pinneberg was in the mood to find that quite typical. ‘People like us always get the duds,’ he said.

‘No, not always,’ said Lammchen.

‘What d’you mean?’

‘Well, I got you, didn’t I?’

All in all December was a good month. Despite the Christmas festivities, the Pinneberg household did not overstep its budget. They were as happy as sandboys. ‘There you are! We can do it. And it was Christmas!’

And they made plans about what they were going to do with all their savings in the months to come.

But January turned out dark, miserable and anxiety-ridden. In December, Mr Spannfuss, Mandels’ new organizer, had been merely looking around.

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