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- 6 -

Lovesickness and a Ticket to America

Simon is up early. After breakfast, he visits Grandpa Simon in the Hills’ wine and spirit shop. Today, his grandfather is introducing him to the world of fortified wines: Ports, Sherries, Madeira, Pineau des Charentes, Floc de Gascogne... They talk about vineyards, grape varieties, various styles and notable producers. Every now and then, Simon casts an eye on the huge grandfather clock: 10:10, 10:22, 10:29, 10:32 …
“Fino sherry and Manzanilla are both the colour of straw,” explains his grandfather. “It matures in wooden barrels under a layer of yeast known as flor. That layer protects the wine against oxidation. There is no flor layer over Oloroso or Cream Sherry, allowing the wine to come into contact with oxygen, which gives it its dark, amber colouring.”
“And what about Amontillado Sherry?”
“The flor layer floating over Amontillado dies off. This sherry does indeed end up being amber in colour, however not as dark and intense. And it tastes lighter and finer than Oloroso or Cream.”
Simon’s gaze falls on the clock again and it is now 11:38.
“Grandpa, I have to go now. We can talk further this evening!”
“Simon ...” Simon Hill is speechless, but he refrains from commenting. He can imagine where Simon would like to go. “Be careful!”
Simon bounds into the family home, grabs his jacket and is back on the street in no time at all.
He quickly strides towards Covent Garden, avoiding the crowd around the market stalls, and then searches for a way around all the hustle and bustle. He purposefully cuts through the little laneways and reaches the bridge at almost exactly twelve o’clock. Simon’s gaze sweeps across to the opposite bank of the Thames, where he spots her sitting: Marala is wearing a dark blue sari with a white sash. Simon starts to feel queasy. And the feeling is getting stronger and stronger the closer he gets to Marala. They are now facing each other. Marala smiles at Simon and he suddenly feels much lighter. They hug without hesitation, but when Simon attempts to kiss Marala, she turns her head to one side.
“Simon, this can’t go on. We’re not allowed to kiss. In a couple of weeks I will be married to another man.”
“Marala...” Simon would like nothing more right now, than to list every argument as to why Marala should not marry a man who is so very much older than her, but he has already decided to tread very carefully on this subject with Marala.
She beams at him. “But it’s wonderful that you’re here! What shall we do today?”
“Let’s go for a walk – over the bridge and then along the Thames, toward the Tower.”
“Yes, the weather is very inviting!”

It’s a beautiful, warm, spring day. The sun is shining over the river and is gently warming the backs of their necks.
“I’m walking beside the prettiest, most sincere and agreeable woman in the whole world,” thinks Simon.
Marala interrupts his thoughts. “Simon, I want to explain something to you. In our culture, it’s normal for parents to marry off their children. My father owes a duty of thanks to Meghnad Kapur. And so they have agreed that I shall be given to him as a bride.”
“But do you have any feelings for this man?”
“My mother says that my feelings will develop over time.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“There is nothing I can do to change it. My father and Meghnad Kapur would both lose face otherwise. I must not and cannot let that happen!”
They slowly walk along the riverbank, enjoying their time together. Simon grabs Marala’s hand, and she doesn’t resist. Silently, they continue to walk along, hand in hand, for a while. Then Simon can’t contain himself any longer – no matter how good his intentions may be. He stops walking and turns to face Marala before embracing her and kissing her soft lips. At first, he notices Marala’s attempt to push him away, but she soon stops resisting.
“I love you,” says Simon finally. “We belong together, Marala. Can’t you see that?”
“No, Simon, it’s out of the question.”
“But I know you love me too. You can’t just ignore that!”
Marala strokes Simon’s face with her gentle hands. “Simon, you mean a great deal to me. But I will nevertheless marry Meghnad Kapur. It can’t be helped.”
“But it can, Marala. You can come to America with me. We would be free to establish ourselves there and to start a new life together.”
“No, it really won’t do. And if I truly meant so much to you, then you would accept my decision.”
“Of course I respect your decision – even if I see things much differently. But think about it, Marala – when you’re twenty five, he will already be sixty!”
“I’ve already thought about it, Simon, and things will go ahead as planned.”
Marala smiles at Simon reassuringly. “Let’s walk on a little further.”
Simon looks out over the Thames. He grasps at Marala’s hand and they continue to stroll along the riverbank.
It now occurs to Marala that Simon mentioned the word ‘America’. She had been so preoccupied with convincing Simon to accept her marriage, that she had not been paying attention earlier. “What about America?”
“I’m going to emigrate there.”
“You mean, you won’t be going back home?”
“No. I told you about it in my letter: Christoph is the eldest and is more interested in the winery than I am. Sooner or later, I would have had to find something else to do anyway.”
“And your parents ...? Do they know about your plans?”
“Yes, my parents and grandparents know about my plans. But they’re not exactly rapt about them!”
“Aren’t you much too young to migrate? And besides, it’s probably very dangerous; you don’t know a soul there and you don’t know what awaits you!”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll manage.”
Simon looks at Marala and is shocked to see tears rolling down her cheeks. He freezes. How should he console her? “You’re right, Marala. I don’t know what to expect. But I think I know what you should expect, and I’m much more afraid of that.”
With his fingertips, he carefully wipes the tears away from her cheeks. “But whatever happens, you can always reach me via my parents in Germany or my grandparents here in London. You know it’s the Hill family on James Street. I’ve promised to write to them about where I’ll be staying and what I’ll be doing.”
“Does this mean we’ll never see each other again?”
“Why do you say that?”
“You sound as if you’re ready to leave tomorrow.”
“I’ll be staying in London for a few days longer. First I need to find out when the next ship leaves for America. My grandfather will help me prepare.”

That evening, Simon retires to his room early. He had been quiet, solemn and withdrawn, even at the dinner table. Elisabeth and Janet had attempted to encourage him to play cards after dinner, but Simon turned down the offer because he wouldn’t have been able to concentrate. He is now lying in bed and thinking of Marala. When he closes his eyes he can see her before him – her beautiful face, her tender, soft skin and the unbelievable depth of her brown eyes. He knows that he has failed, and that she won’t go to America with him. Marala is so impressively self-assured and so disciplined, and she’s already made up her mind. Simon feels ill and his stomach is churning. There are tears in his eyes, but he has never really learnt how to cry. His thoughts are racing so much that he has a headache. Until now, he has always been able to find a solution to every problem, but there is no solution for this one. Marala will always remain unreachable – his true love won’t be his. She will marry that old man.

Marala, too, is lying in bed in her parents’ house and crying bitter tears into her brightly-coloured pillows. All the letters she has written to and received from Simon, and all their conversations prove that he understands her better than anyone else has ever understood her. And aside from that, he has turned out to be a tall, good-looking man. How she would love to drop everything and immigrate to America with Simon! But she couldn’t do that to her father and Meghnad Kapur. She wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt.
Harsha has silently slipped into the room. “Marala, why are you crying?” she asks, worried, and sits on the edge of the bed.
“It’s nothing!”
“Are you in pain? Did someone hurt you?”
“No!” comes the strained response, muffled by the cushion.
“You’re nervous about the wedding!” remarks Harsha with a smile.
“I’m just not feeling very well today!” offers Marala curtly, suddenly highly strung. By no means shall her mother find out that she has been meeting Simon – otherwise she will forbid it. She is not allowed to meet up with another man so soon before her wedding. But Marala is determined to spend every spare moment with Simon until he leaves.

“Wilcox & Shaw Shippers & Co.” is written in large letters on the massive sandstone building with the gigantic windows. Simon walks into the shipping company building in the Port of London with his grandfather. A tall, wide hall stretches out before them. There are countless counters and desks, behind which employees are sitting, and many people are already waiting in queues. Three majestic chandeliers are hanging from the ceiling, and the walls are decorated with paintings of ships and seascapes. Impressed, Simon slowly follows his grandfather up to one of the counters, behind which a noble-looking, older lady is working.
“Good day, gentlemen! What can I do for you?” Her voice is friendly, but assertive.
“Good day! My name is Simon Hill and this is my grandson, Simon Balthasar Braun, from Germany. We would like to book a passage to New York for Simon.”
“New York? We have a ship heading there the day after tomorrow. Hmm … but the ship is booked out and it looks like the next are as well.”
“Is there another option?” Simon Hill would like to know.
“If I may be so bold, may I suggest Boston? That’s north of New York.”
“Grandpa, Boston is very good,” chips in Simon. "Abhay once told me that a lot of tea is transshipped there and also that it’s generally a nice place."
“If you say so,” murmurs his grandfather. “Then we’ll book a ticket to Boston.”
“Very well,” says the lady, cheerfully, “the ship is called the Whitecap, and is a full rigged, three-master under Captain Johansson, one of our most experienced captains.”
“Johansson – that sounds Scandinavian,” says Simon.
His grandfather shrugs his shoulders.
“True,” nods the lady, “Captain Johansson is a Swede, but his wife is English. The Whitecap leaves London at midday on 2nd May. I just need a few more details … Would you like a cabin or a dormitory?”
“We’ll take the cabin,” answers the grandfather.
The lady fills out all sorts of forms with a fountain pen, before finally handing them over. “Here are your papers, Mr. Braun.”
Simon is confounded when he hears how much his trip will cost. One can almost buy a coach for that price!
Simon Hill pays for the passage, and then he and his grandson leave the big building. Once outside, Simon’s grandfather turns to him and says, “The date is set, Simon. You’re leaving on 2nd May – a Saturday. Do you know how long such a crossing lasts?”
“Yes – between 45 and 55 days – Jan ter Bruggen told me. It depends on the elements.”
“Let’s assume that your passage will be a safe one.”
“Thank you once again for everything, Grandpa!”
“Don’t mention it, Simon. In the next few days, we’ll also have to buy you a waterproof knapsack, sturdy shoes and durable clothing.”
“But Grandpa …”
“No ifs or buts! What you are about to embark on is no small matter, Simon, and you must get off to an optimal start. Now let’s go through there into the coffee house across the road and have something to drink.”
From their table in a corner of the coffee house, Simon orders a Yunnan black tea. He likes its malty, bitter flavour. Grandpa Simon celebrates the occasion by drinking a cognac. “This is a VSOP Cognac from the Domain Chainier in the Petite Champagne region, and it’s wonderfully smooth,” he explains to Simon.
“You’re always on the job, Grandpa,” grins his grandson in jest. Once they have each savoured their first sips, Simon Hill asks, “Tell me, Simon, how are things going with your Indian friend, Marala?”
“Not well.”
“What do you mean? Haven’t you met up with her again?”
“I have. But she is to marry on June 7th. Her husband will be much older than her … He is the tea merchant that her father works for.”
“Well, I suppose her parents feel a sense of duty toward him. Marriage is not about feelings, Simon. Our two cultures are not very different in this matter.”
“But two people cannot be married if they barely know each other. Marala could be his daughter!”
Simon Hill can see the disappointment in his grandson’s eyes. He looks at the young man, full of energy – an optimist who has come up against an obstacle for the first time in his life.

Yes, that’s exactly how it happened: for the first time, I was stopped in my tracks. No matter what I did, there was no way I could prevent the wedding. But I had a ticket to a mysterious future, a ticket to the ‘New World’. However, I could barely think about that. My thoughts were on Marala, and I realised how many headaches and how much nausea can be caused by lovesickness.

 
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