Two Brothers by Ben Elton Read Free Book Online Page A

again.
    She got off the tram on the busy Müllerstrasse and turned into a side street which had once contained small businesses and store houses but which was now principally residential. The street was on the edge of the working-class district of Wedding, which was much favoured by artists for its earthy credibility and somewhat Bohemian air. Karlsruhen rented a studio just close enough to the centre of things to gain a little cachet from the borough’s reputation, but not so close as to be fully immersed in a dangerously left-wing area that was known throughout the city as Red Wedding.
    The concierge of Karlsruhen’s building gave Frieda the usual dubious glance as she let her in, clearly under the impression that nude models must be whores. Frieda returned the woman’s look with proud disdain before making her way up the stairs to the attic studio in which Karlsruhen worked. The door was half open and she could hear him singing along to a gramophone recording of Götterdämmerung . He always had music on while he worked but he did not normally sing. Frieda wondered if he might be a little drunk. Karlsruhen loved his beer and schnapps.
    She knocked firmly, causing the door to swing fully open under the force of her fist. She knew that Karlsruhen would shake his head at this. He had once rebuked her for ‘banging on the door like a stevedore’, admonishing her to be more ‘gentle and reserved’ and a credit to her sex. This of course made Frieda knock all the louder the next time, and from then on she was always sure to give his door a knuckle-rattling bang whenever she visited. Such displays of spirit, however, seemed only to increase Karlsruhen’s attraction to her. He would giggle with silly indulgence as if she were a naughty girl and he her long-suffering father.
    All this made Frieda pretty uncomfortable, but she had final exams to prepare for and standing about naked had to be the easiest way to make money in Berlin. She knew plenty of girls who would kill for her luck.
    Recently, it was true, Karlsruhen’s behaviour has begun to get a little bolder. He had taken to calling her his ‘cheeky pet’ and his ‘little bud’, which made her squirm. Wolfgang had said she should demand a pay rise. Instead she had taken strength from reminding herself that once she qualified as a doctor she would never have to see the silly old fool again.
    ‘Enter,’ came the familiar, self-important voice from within. ‘Advance, sweet child, and be recognized.’
    Karlsruhen had never served in the army but he loved to affect a slightly military air.
    He was alone, of course, as Frieda had been certain he would be. Before, there had always been one or two young men busying themselves with plaster and tools in distant corners of the studio, Karlsruhen’s ‘pupils’, as he called them. He made much of the fact that he had ‘pupils’ (although to Frieda’s eye they seemed more like paid assistants), clearly fancying himself in the Michelangelo mode. Recently, however, Karlsruhen had taken to ensuring that these pupils were away purchasing supplies or on some other errand when the time came for Frieda’s sittings.
    Frieda entered the huge space, which spanned the entire length and width of the building. In the daytime the studio was flooded with beautiful natural light, which shone through the skylights even on cloudy days. But night was falling and Karlsruhen had turned on the meagre forty-watt bulbs that hung from the ceiling eaves and cast eerie shadows across the silent plaster figures standing about the room.
    At the far end of the studio a desk lamp stood on an empty plinth, its shaded bulb pointing to the place where Frieda would be posing, like a theatrical spotlight.
    The great man was standing at his usual place, wearing his habitual white smock and beret, although Frieda did not think he had been doing much work as there was a schnapps bottle in his hand.
    Karlsruhen worked mostly in clay, producing mildly erotic