them and when she failed turned back to Shasa. The Germans are threatening to disallow all medals won by what they call the inferior races, the blacks and the Jews, she said in a loud voice. They are disgusting. Cool down, Shasa whispered.
Don't you care? Tara challenged him. David is a Jew. Of course I care, he said quietly, glancing around in embarrassment. But do shut up, Tara, there's a brick., I think, Tara's voice rose in direct response to Shasa's appeal, but Mathilda Janine screamed even more piercingly.
There he is, there's David! With relief Shasa spran& to his feet. There he is, go it, Davie boy. Run like a hairy springbok! The finalists for the 200-metre dash had clustered at the far end of the arena and were jogging on the spot, windmilling their arms and going through their warm-up routines.
Isn't David just indescribable? Mathilda Janine demanded.
think that describes him perfectly, Shasa agreed, and she punched his arm.
You know what I mean. Then the group of athletes spread out to their blocks and the starter stepped forward. once more silence descended on the vast arena, and the runners were crouched down, frozen in a rigour of concentration.
The pistol fired, at this distance a pop of sound, and the athletes hurled themselves forward in a perfect line, long legs flashing, arms pumping high, they sped away on a rising wave of sound, and the line lost its perfection, bulged in the centre; a lean dark panther of a man pulled out ahead and the roar of the crowd became articulate.
JesSe Owens! repeated in a soaring chant, while the dark man flashed over the finish line pulling a bunch of other runners behind him.
What happened? Mathilda Janine screamed.
Jesse Owens won, Shasa shouted to make himself heard in the uproar.
I know that, but David, what happened to David? I don't know. I couldn't see. It was all so close. They waited in a fever until the loudspeakers boomed their stentorian command.
Achtung! Achtung! and they heard the names in the jumble of German.
Jesse Owens, Carter Brown, David Abrahams. Mathilda Janine shrieked. Catch me, I'm going to faint.
David got the bronze! She was still shrieking, and hopping up and down on the spot, tears of wild joy running unheeded down her cheeks and dripping off her chin, while on the green field below a thin gangling figure in shorts and running vest climbed up onto the inferior step of the victors pyramid and bowed his head as the ribbon with the bronze medal dangling from it was draped around his neck.
The four of them began their celebration that evening in the salon of Centaines suite at the Bristol. Blaine made a short speech of congratulation while David stood in the middle of the floor looking bashful and self-conscious as they toasted him in champagne. Because it was for David, Shasa drank the whole glass of the magnificent 1929 Bollinger that Centaine provided for the occasion.
He drank another full glass of Sekt at the Caf& am Kudamm, on the corner of the Kurfarstendamm, just down the street from the hotel and then the four of them linked arms and set off down Berlin's notorious fun street. All the signs of decadence that the Nazis had banned, the Coca-Cola bottles on the sidewalk tables, and the strains of jazz from the cafe bands, the movie posters of Clark Gable and Myma Loy, were once more in evidence, allowed back under special dispensation for the duration of the Olympics only.
They stopped at another cafe, and this time Shasa ordered a schnapps.
Slow down,David whispered to him, he knew that Shasa seldom drank alcohol, and then never more than a single glass of wine or beer.
Davie my boy, it's not every day that an old mate of mine wins an Olympic medal. He was flushed under his tan and his eyes had a feverish glitter.
Well, I for one refuse to carry you home, David warned.
They went on down the Ku-damm. and Shasa had the girls in fits of giggles at his nonsense humour.
and then, stunningly,
Ach so, meine lieblings, dis is de famousa Kranzlers coffee house, no? We will enter and drink a leetle champagne, yes? That's Italian, not German,Tara pointed out. And I think you are sloshed. 'Sloshed is a foul word on fair lips,, Shasa told her, and marched her into the elegant coffee shop.
Not more champagne, Shasa, David protested.
My dear boy, you don't suggest I should drink everlasting life to you in beer, now do you? Shasa snapped his fingers to summon the waitress and she poured four tulip glasses of the seething yellow wine.
They were all four laughing and chattering so that for some seconds none of them was aware of the sudden tense silence that had descended on the crowded coffee shop.
Oh dear, Tara murmured. Here come the cavalry., Six brown-uniformed storm troopers had entered the room. They had obviously been to some ceremony or function of their regiment, for two of them carried furled banners. It was just as obvious that they had already been drinking; their attitude was bellicose and swaggering and some of the other customers of the coffee shop hurriedly gathered their hats and coats, paid their bills and left the room.
The six troopers came strutting across to the vacant table next to where the four of them were sitting, and ordered tankards of beer from the waitress. The owner of the coffee shop, anxious to avoid trouble, came to their table, and greeted them obsequiously. They talked for a short while.
Then the proprietor took his leave of them by standing at attention and giving the Nazi salute. Immediately the six storm troopers jumped to their feet and returned the salute, cracking the heels of their jackboots together and shouting, Heil Hitler! Mathilda Janine, who had drunk at least one full glass of champagne, let out a shriek of laughter and dissolved into helpless giggles, and the full attention of all the troopers was instantly focused upon her.
Shut up, Matty, David implored, but that only made it Mathilda Janine rolled her eyes and went scarlet in the face with the effort of trying to contain her giggles, but in the end they exploded out of her with a wild snorting
