"What are you writing, if you don't mind me asking?" he questioned, politely.
"Oh, it's an autobiography I'm drafting," I coughed. "About being fostered and living through World War II. How I thought you died in the bombing in Himmel Street and how my mother died."
"What would happen if someone found out your mother was a communist though?" he looked worried.
"Rudy, Hitler has been dead for six years. I'm sure no-one cares."
"Oh. What else about your life?" Rudy seemed eager to find out if I was writing about him.
"About Hans and Rosa, how I grew to love Rosa, and Hans' accordion. How my brother died and how I met you. When we were the best of friends. How you helped me and I trusted you with my biggest secret." A smile cracked onto Rudy's face. He was honoured to be part of my book.
"Where do you live now?" I asked. Himmel Strasse had been rebuilt after the bombing, now a fairly new housing estate with large, red brick castles standing boldly amongst our tiny village. Did he live in those houses?
"The other side of the village, 15 Mohn Avenue," Rudy revealed. "Here," he fumbled for a piece of paper in his back pocket and noted it down. Delivering it into my desperate hands, it was evident that Rudy's hand writing had gotten worse. His writing looked like a spiders web, flicking harshly in every direction. I could make out what was supposed to be a fifteen. Tossing it into my sactual, we carried on babbling. The subject rose, about Rudy's Grandparents and how they were very affectionate. Maybe a little too affectionate? But very rich indeed. They supplied Rudy with 5,000 DM every month as he didn't have a job.
"What would you like to do as a job?" I queried.
"I want to be a professional dancer."
"Really?" This was the most strange and unlikely thing Rudy has ever commented on since we met. "But you don't have any dance experience, do you?"
"What do you think I did all those years at my Grandparents, sit around all day?" he remarked, smartly.
"I just wouldn't of thought it would be your forte, I thought you wanted to be a runner. You were obsessed with sport, always kicking your soccer ball around." Rudy had even said when we were younger that he wanted to be in the Olympics when he was older, running for Germany.
"Are you good?" I asked.
"Quite good, I could teach you sometime," he insisted.
"I'd love that," I said, thankfully. "Who taught you?" What a silly question, Liesel. His Grandparents were rich for heavens sake.
"The maid," he calmly replied.
"The maid?" I was astonished yet intrigued by the fact a maid taught Rudy to dance.
"What's wrong with that?" he appeared confused about why I was surprised.
"If your Grandparents were rich, why didn't they give you the money to get lessons from professionals."
"She taught me well, you know. She was an amazing dancer. I saw her dancing with a mop whilst she was cleaning the hallway. I said "Can you teach me to do that?" and she was willing to, and ever since I asked, we danced daily, my Grandparents knew nothing about it," he chuckled to himself.
"So, what dances do you know?"
"I don't really know them, I just, well... do them."
"Okay, then what dances do you do then? Cha Cha, Waltz, Tango?"
"All ballroom dances mostly. We were in the middle of learning the Argentine Tango, but never finished the dance. Before that, I learnt the jive, and then the Paso Doble," he said as if it was nothing.
"Wow, Mr Steiner, you are better than I thought!" I teased. He took my patronising as a joke and a grin painted itself across Rudy's face.
"No, really, you're very talented!" I admitted, nudging him in the elbow.
"Thanks. But what about you? What have you been doing for these past six years?" he asked. My last few years hadn't been anything as interesting Rudy's.
"I just carried on with school until I left. Max had come back so I didn't have to stay with the couple at the manor anymore. I carried on working at Alex Steiner's Tailors until Max arrived back. School recommended me to the local newspaper because of my grades in journalism. I got the job of writing a column every week. And so I ended up here," I explained briefly.
"What?!" Rudy's bottom lip quivered. "Alex Steiner? Don't you remember? He's... He's my father."
"Oh my god, Rudy, I'm sorry. I forgot, I was so caught up in meeting you, and overwhelmed. I should of mentioned it sooner." I covered my eyes.
"I thought he died in the war."
"I told him that you died." The sorrow I saw in Rudy's eyes silenced me until reality punched me.
"Come on then! You have to meet him!" I shouted. I rummaged around my sactual to find my purse. I hurried to the counter where Ute wandered about. I then carelessly placed a few notes onto the table.
"Keep the change," I spat in a hurry. "Thank you, Ute!" I called whilst jogging back to where Rudy was collecting his things. Tugging his arm, I yanked Rudy out of the door. I heard a muffled "Thank you!" from Ute, inside the café.
