What Only We Know: A heart-wrenching and unforgettable World War 2 historical novel

by Catherine Hokin

  Frau Herber’s lesson chimed louder than the doorbell had.

  ‘And longer, of course, if you need it.’

  The woman came further in, shaking frosty raindrops all over the floor.

  ‘Perfect. It will be weeks before I am in the city again and I wanted to see about placing an order.’

  She waved her sodden umbrella at Liese and didn’t offer any thanks when Liese took it.

  ‘It’s such tremendous luck that I found you. There I was, treating myself to a cake in the sweetest café on the Kurfürstendamm, and in walks a woman in the most darling ruby-red coat. Of course, I had to ask her where she got it and she, naturally, was quite thrilled that I did. And then to find out that the dressmaker who made it is only five minutes away and my dear Henkie so desperate for me to have something special for the winter. Well, this was clearly meant to be.’

  On and on she went, in a tone her breathy delivery clearly intended to be charming but that hit all the wrong stresses.

  Liese was barely listening. She had struggled to listen to a single word since the woman had stepped from the threshold into the shop’s buttery light. Her throat was so tight, she couldn’t have spoken even if the woman had wanted her to. All she could think was: How can she look so ordinary?

  The clothes were different. The coat the woman wore was Loden-green and lumpily belted rather than a flowing black cape. Her hat had a feather set at its centre, not a swastika pin. But nothing about the heavy figure had changed in four years. The square-chinned face still glowed with health, the cheeks turned as ruddy by the November wind as they had been that long-ago and yet so recent bitter February. The eyes, for all the effort made to widen them with pencil flicks, still sank like currants into the doughy skin. The hair was smartly rolled and not so tightly drawn back, but it was just as brassily blonde as the strands that had once poked out from under the sharply peaked cap. She was a first-class Aryan poster girl, even out of uniform, and every inch of her face and form had been photographed in a moment three years ago and printed on Liese’s memory ever since.

  Liese couldn’t speak, she could barely breathe, but the guard carried on, oblivious.

  ‘And I do so need a new coat, a properly tailored one. I love my babies, I truly do, but…’ She patted her middle with a sickeningly coy smile. ‘Well, they’ve hardly been kind to my waistline.’

  ‘Babies?’

  The word splintered as it fell.

  The guard swelled with pride. ‘Twins – two girls, if you can believe it. Such a shock and such a handful. Both Daddy’s little darlings, of course. It would be a lot to manage for most people, but my Henkie is such a good provider. He’s the mayor of our town and so well respected. Fürstenberg, that’s where we live. It’s an awfully pretty place, about an hour or so outside the city, although I doubt you will have heard of it.’

  ‘The town in the woods, near the lake. I’ve heard of it.’

  The guard was too delighted with herself to hear Liese’s voice shaking.

  ‘So, to business. How does this work? Do you have a pattern book, some ideas I could look at?’

  The notion that Liese could possibly do anything as normal as make this woman a coat was so preposterous, she found herself acting as she would with any other customer. She nodded and waved the woman to a chair placed next to a small table. Gestured to the pile of magazines lying on it as if she was an actress playing a role so well learned it didn’t require her brain to take any part in it.

  ‘Such a good selection – how perfect.’

  That word again, that expectation that the world would fall the exact way she required it. As it had clearly kept on doing for her, and no doubt all the others who had gripped hold of power with their dogs and their whips and walked away when the war was done, as if no part of the horror they presided over was any of their doing.

  Liese had seen the reports of the Ravensbrück trial, despite Andrew and Michael’s efforts to keep her away from them. The number of arrests was laughable: a handful of faces standing in for a mob.

  She moved a step closer, ran through the next set of lines.

  ‘Can I get you a tea or a coffee while you look through the designs?’

  The woman opened a magazine and began taking off her gloves.

  ‘Coffee would be delightful, as long as it’s the real stuff. And you have sugar.’

  She doesn’t know me. I doubt she’s ever seen me.

  Liese stood perfectly still, watching the leather unpeel from the skin, watching the white hands emerging. They were too big to be elegant, the right one too scarred to show off.

  Scream. Snap. Splash.

  Liese didn’t move. She hadn’t expected to see anything other than that scar to emerge. She carried on quietly watching until the gloves were folded and stowed in the shiny black handbag. Until the woman’s attention was fixed on the models and their blank haughty faces.

  There was no startling moment when she made a decision. There was no need to work out a plan, or think through what she was doing. Every move that was needed was already known and had been set in motion when the door first opened. Now they unfolded and Liese felt them as much a part of her as her heart’s steady beating. There was no voice in her head screaming stop. There was no voice in her head except: this is punishment, pure and simple. This act Liese now knew was coming was as much a mother’s job as her lake-watching vigil had been.

  This is what has been keeping me alive.

  The realisation ran through her like a charge and made the rest simple.

  Four paces to the cutting desk, four paces back. All the stored fury turning to fuel now it had finally found its purpose.

  ‘Here you are.’

  ‘My, aren’t you quick.’

  It was surprisingly easy. And surprisingly silent.

  The blonde head lifted. The black eyes went searching for their sugary treat. If the guard saw what was coming, she didn’t have time to react.

  One swift move: scissors up, scissors down. Glinting blades finding their own path from fleshy lobe to sinewy throat. A red scarf springing into the air, flying out in a curve as if caught by a breeze and then dropping, pooling back round the limp neck.

  The body slumped. Eyes wide, eyes closed.

  All over, in seconds.

  ‘Where are the keys, Liese. Look at me: where are the door keys?’

  The shop was in shadow, the window blinds pulled down, although Liese didn’t remember drawing them. Time must have ticked on quicker than she thought because Andrew was here, waiting, she assumed, to walk her home, to offer her dinner. He was standing closer than he normally would and his face was so colourless, she wondered if he was ill.

  ‘Why don’t you give those to me and then tell me where the keys are. It would be best for everyone if I could lock the door.’

  That made sense. It was obviously getting late and no one else would come in on such an unpleasant night. And the scissors, which she hadn’t realised she was still holding, were slippery and sticky.

  She looked down at them. Why were they in such a mess?

  ‘Liese…’

  She dropped the blood-soaked blades. Whirled round. The guard was still sitting in the chair. Her coat had stiffened and smelled metallic, and a stain had spread out like an ink blot under her chair.

  ‘What have I done?’

  Liese remembered the door opening, the woman coming in as vividly as if it had just happened. And that terrible moment of recognition. And that voice talking, going on and on. The rest was a blur, a series of snapshots; some she desperately wanted to stay out of focus.

  ‘Babies. Oh, dear God, she had babies.’

  Once she let the images spool back, they wouldn’t stop coming.

  ‘I’ve killed her and she had babies. Unless, please God, she’s not dead?’

  Liese ran to the body, grabbed its wrist and began scrabbling for a pulse.

  ‘Is it possible she’s not dead?’

  ‘No. No, it’s not.’ />
  Andrew pulled her away from the cold skin she was clutching.

  ‘Look at the blood, Liese. No one could survive that.’

  He was right. There was so much of it, on her as well as on the body. Liese sank onto her heels and stared at her scarlet-stained hands. The need to explain, to somehow make it right, overwhelmed her.

  ‘It was the guard. The one who killed Lottie. She walked in like a customer, wanting a coat. She didn’t know me at all. I didn’t think. I just did it. I’ve longed to do it. Dear God, I’ve longed for it all this time. I just didn’t know.’ She rubbed at her hands, but the blood wouldn’t shift. ‘And now it’s done, and we have to call the police.’

  Andrew pulled her back to her feet with a roughness she didn’t know he was capable of. ‘Are you crazy? We can’t call them. Look at her: you can hardly say this was self-defence.’

  ‘Why would I want to?’

  ‘Because they’ll hang you! And don’t you dare tell me that’s what you want. Don’t you dare. Where are the keys?’

  ‘What?’

  His grip was so tight, she could feel her arms bruising.

  ‘Where are the keys, Liese? For the front door?’

  ‘Let go of me and I’ll get them.’

  He released her. She ran and grabbed them from the hook, gave them to Andrew and turned back to the telephone. He pulled her away before she could lift the receiver.

  ‘Leave that. As soon as the door’s locked, we need to clean this place up, and you.’

  ‘No. I told you: we need to call the police. This is a crime, a terrible crime.’

  Andrew’s eyes were so dark it was frightening.

  ‘And I’ve told you already, we’re not going to do that. Go and wash your hands while I tackle the floor.’

  He pushed her through the velvet curtain into the kitchen and grabbed a cloth and soap flakes.

  ‘Hurry up. And then fetch me some sturdy cloth and some string.’

  He was too wound up to argue with. Liese scrubbed her hands until they were raw and then collected a pile of old potato sacks and a bundle of twine. When she came back into the shop, ready to stand up to him again, she was thankful to see he had come to his senses and was speaking on the telephone.

  ‘I’ll tell them who she was. I’ll explain what she did. Surely they’ll understand.’

  He slammed down the receiver when he saw Liese reappear and took the sacking she was holding out to him.

  ‘Thank you for making that call. I’m glad you could see there’s no choice.’

  Liese reached for his hand but he shrugged her away.

  ‘There’s always a choice. I wasn’t calling the police, I was calling Michael. He has a van and we need it.’

  Not Michael – not standing witness to this.

  Confessing her crime to the police suddenly seemed far less important than not having to confess it to Michael.

  ‘Andrew, no. Don’t bring him into this, I’m begging you!’

  His face changed; his voice switched from fury to what sounded like fear.

  ‘Don’t do this, Liese. Don’t make yourself into some kind of sacrifice. I can’t live with that. Michael won’t be able to live with that. Please, please, if you have any care for me at all, just do what I say.’

  He looked so broken, so desperate. Whatever force had been pushing Liese on since she picked up the scissors drained away. She moved through the next moments doing only what he asked. Helping him roll the body onto the hessian, helping him pile the cleaning cloths on the guard’s chest. But when the doorbell rang, she wouldn’t let Andrew answer it and she gave Michael barely a second to take the scene in. She needed to face him and face her actions before Andrew told a more edited story.

  ‘It’s the guard who murdered Lottie. I cut her throat.’

  Michael stared at her. He opened his arms. All she wanted to do was fall into them, but Andrew grabbed him instead.

  ‘And if we don’t sort this out, she’s going to give herself up to the police and she’s going to hang. So help me. Are you listening, Michael? Help me, or she’s lost.’

  ‘Michael, no! Don’t listen to him; listen to me.’

  But Michael turned away from her and spoke only to Andrew.

  ‘I need something heavy. I need to destroy her face and make sure that nobody recognises her.’

  He scanned the shop and picked up a sewing machine.

  Liese darted forward. ‘That’s wrong! That won’t work!’

  She was about to explain, but both men rounded on her.

  ‘Don’t look if you can’t stand it but let us do what we must.’

  She was exhausted, her limbs trembling. Faced with Andrew and Michael, not listening to her, so united and so determined to do what they clearly thought was in her best interests, it was easier to give in, to convince herself she could still somehow make this right later. She stood back. She made herself watch, and not argue .

  ‘We need to take her to the river.’

  Their voices were so low, she wasn’t sure which of them spoke – not that it mattered. Michael and Andrew were focused only on each other and the tightly bound package now balanced between them.

  ‘You don’t understand—’

  ‘You need to come with us. You can’t stay here alone.’

  Neither of them were listening to her. It was clear they still thought she would call the police. They bundled the body and Liese into the van, intent only on where they were going.

  ‘At least tell me where we’re going.’

  ‘There’s a point across from Schloβ Charlottenburg where the river quickens. The current should take the body down from there to the Havel and out to wider waters. It’s better to let the river move her than us.’

  Once Michael answered her, without turning round, neither man spoke to her or each other again, except when Andrew told Michael to slow down or risk being stopped by an army patrol. Once the American military jeep passed by, Berlinerstraβe stayed empty. There was no traffic to slow them on the Schloβbrücke or in the maze of broken streets that bordered the river. Liese knew there was no point in speaking, that their actions had taken on their own momentum in the same way that hers had. When they drew close to the tightly packed treeline, Michael pulled the van in.

  ‘It should be quiet enough here, as long as we move quickly. Anyone hanging round this place will be too drunk to know what they’ve seen, or be believed if they try to describe it.’

  He jumped out, followed by Andrew. They wrestled the body out of the back and told Liese to wait. She couldn’t – the light on the water spun too strong a pull. She followed them as they stumbled over the muddy ground, both men struggling to stay upright. It had rained for most of November and the river was full, branches caught in it and tumbling.

  She won’t lie as peacefully as Lottie.

  ‘On my count, and on three.’

  Michael’s whisper swelled in the silence.

  The bundle rolled towards the water. There wasn’t an arc this time; it was more of a plunge. And there wasn’t a quicksilver splash but a crash as the water opened. A greedy roar that ran through Liese’s bones and ripped away the silence that had been forced on her in the salon.

  ‘This is all wrong. Why wouldn’t you listen to me?’

  She stopped and sucked in a breath that came out in a scream.

  ‘How can I have been so stupid? All I had to do was lock the door and keep you away. This was my fight, not yours, and now you’re messed up in it.’

  Michael and Andrew broke into a run and caught her between them as her legs slipped from under her.

  ‘It doesn’t matter. No one will find her. Look at the river: it will take her for miles, toss her to bits.’ She pulled and pushed against them, but they wouldn’t let go.

  ‘No it won’t. She won’t lie peacefully – how can she? This won’t end it. Don’t you see? I’ve killed her and this won’t end it. She had babies. Children of her own – two little girls. One more than what she to
ok from me. She’ll be found. She’ll be identified. And you’ll pay a price that was only ever mine.’

  She was long past a whisper. Her voice bounced round the trees like a trumpet calling.

  ‘Liese, take a breath. I destroyed her face. You know I did. No one will know her.’

  Michael’s arm tightened round her shoulders as if his words were reassuring.

  ‘No. That’s what I was trying to tell you. You got it all wrong. It wasn’t her face that mattered. It was her hand. The scar on her hand. That’s how they’ll know her and track her to Lottie, and to me.’

  Michael’s arm fell away.

  ‘And now you two are in danger. Because of me. What I’ve done makes me as evil as her. It makes me worse.’

  She spun round and began stumbling her desperate way towards the water. Michael lunched forward to grab her. Liese felt his hand catch at her sleeve, but she tugged too hard for him to hold her and left him floundering in the mud.

  ‘Andrew, for the love of God stop her!’

  ‘Let me go! You have to let me go. You have to let me make it right!’

  She was quick, but Andrew was quicker. When he caught her, his grip was so tight she couldn’t pull free.

  ‘Make it right? Are you crazy? How does you ending up in the water make any of this right?’

  He pinned her arms so tight she couldn’t struggle.

  ‘I won’t let you, Liese. I won’t. I can’t have done all this to watch you die. Neither can Michael.’

  Her strength fell away. She wanted to run and yet she wanted his arms. No – she wanted Michael’s arms.

  ‘Come back to the van. Please. Let us find a way through this.’

  It was easier to follow than fight. She climbed in beside Andrew, her teeth chattering. She couldn’t look at Michael, who was gripping the steering wheel so tight his hands looked like claws.

  ‘What have I done?’ she couldn’t stop asking on the dark journey home, although both of them begged her to. ‘What have I done?’

  ‘You did what you had to and now we must live with it.’

  It was Michael who answered. This time his voice was as broken as hers.

  Ich erkläre hierbei, daβ ich, Andrew James Cartwright, geboren am 13. März 1916 in London, gewillt bin Liese Wilhelmine Elfmann, geboren am 15. Juni 1920 in Berlin, zu heiraten.