24
Once aboard the vessel, a valet ushered them to their staterooms, which were situated next to one another. The young man handed Willy the keys before accepting a tip, bowing slightly toward Ursula, and retreating. Willy unlocked Ursula’s door and stepped aside. Ursula crossed the threshold and inhaled sharply.
“What is it?”
Receiving no response, Willy stepped inside the stateroom and dipped his head so that he could see Ursula’s face. Her mouth hung open as her eyes scanned the spacious room.
“Do you not like it?” he asked.
Ursula shook her head. “It’s beautiful, Willy, and so big. Surely all of this space is not just for me!”
Willy smiled. “It’s for you only. Your father has the stateroom immediately next door. See?” He approached a narrow door in the wall and placed his hand upon the knob. “You can access your father’s room through this door.” He knocked twice and then swung the door open to find Otto on the other side with a surprised smile on his face.
Ursula shook her head. “I’ve never seen such a beautiful room, Willy.”
Willy winked at Otto, gently closed the door, and gathered Ursula in his arms. “You will have a home in England where each room is as exquisite as its mistress.” He leaned in for a long, lingering kiss. She withdrew slowly, a little breathless.
“Now,” Willy said, all business once more, “the ship will depart in twenty-five minutes. I assume that you want to freshen up before meeting me on the Lido deck for a cocktail?”
“I don’t know what a Lido deck is.”
Willy smiled. “It’s the top deck. The passengers meet there as the ship pulls away and wave good-bye.”
Ursula looked at him askew. “This is a tradition?”
Willy made an “x” over his heart. “Cross my heart. It’s true.”
“I’ll meet you there in twenty-five minutes.”
He took her hands. “This is the beginning of the next chapter of our lives, Ursula. I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you, making memories . . . and babies.” He waggled his eyebrows at her and she slapped his arm. He ran away playfully and snuck out the door before she could do any real damage.
Closing the door behind him, Ursula turned and drank in the luxurious stateroom. The walls were a light yellow with coordinating honey-colored wainscoting. The bed was large enough to fit three people and was covered in a corn-yellow chenille spread. A six-foot-tall, round mirror was attached to the wall directly across from the bed, and it had the effect of exaggerating the room’s size. Next to the bed was a Mediterranean blue nightstand, and diagonally across from that was a loveseat upholstered in the same color, and a glass coffee table that held a vase of fresh daffodils. Above the sitting area was not just one porthole, but three, allowing the stateroom a breezy, open feel. A retractable curtain divided the sleeping area from the sitting area, giving the room a completed, designer look.
Ursula walked past the couch and stopped. She’d been so taken with the grandeur of the sleeping area that she’d not yet noticed a beautifully appointed bathroom, complete with a spacious bathtub for soaking after a long day of—what? she wondered. What did one do all day aboard a large ship such as the Drottningholm? She glanced at the coffee table and noted, through its glass top, a backgammon set and a deck of playing cards. Ursula smiled as she envisioned an entire day of doing nothing but playing games and relaxing.
“I could definitely get used to this lifestyle,” she said aloud as she placed her dresses in the closet, carefully smoothing any wrinkles. She had managed to stuff ten dresses into her two suitcases, along with her toiletries and three pictures. The first was of her mother, smiling as she basked in the love and strong arms of Otto. The second was of Anna and her, taken immediately after Frau Bergmann’s memorial service. The third was of Willy and her at a picnic. She placed them delicately on the nightstand, then withdrew her toiletry bag and retreated to the bathroom to wash her face and reapply her makeup. Afterwards, she donned her favorite dress—the one she had worn on her first date with Willy—and examined her reflection. The stress of the last few years had melted off too much weight. But as she smiled at her reflection, she assured herself that the food aboard the ship would remedy the situation.
She turned to her open suitcase and saw a small white box that sat atop her pajamas. Curious, she removed the box, sat on the bed, and opened the lid to find a folded piece of paper. Ursula set the box aside to read the note.
My Beloved Ursula,
I cannot express to you the joy—no, the elation that I felt when you agreed to accompany me to England. My mother will adore you (as I do), and I know that you will become fast friends.
My life was a dull gray until you sang your way into my heart. I’m proud to say that a plethora of colors now fills my emotional palette. I am rapt by your beauty, passion, and fortitude. You’re an exceptional woman whom I am proud to call my fiancée—soon, wife.
And, I dare say, I have become a fan of the most dreaded of all art forms, opera.
Your humble servant and most loyal love,
Willy
Ursula smiled as a happy tear traced her cheek. When she’d met Willy, time had seemed to stand still, then sped up uncontrollably until this moment. As she reflected on their four short years together, she realized how fate had played a hand in their impromptu meeting. She appreciated how fortunate she was and had learned to take nothing for granted. Her heart ached when she thought of Anna, but then hardened when her mind wandered to the burnt rabbi. She felt firm in her resolve to leave Germany. Once Hitler had been defeated, perhaps she might rejoin Anna. Maybe there was a chance they could enjoy each other’s company as sisters once more. But for now, she must focus on her father and Willy, the two most important people in her life.
Ursula sighed and refolded the note, then tucked it gently into the frame of her picture of Willy.
She picked up the small box and gently removed the cotton. Inside lay a gold, oval locket at the end of a thin, box-link chain. A single rose surrounded by leaves was carved into the face of the locket, and her breath caught in her throat as she remembered Willy showing her this necklace. His father had given it to his mother before leaving for Europe, a keepsake for her to cherish until his return. He hadn’t returned, however, so Willy’s mother had given it to Willy to bestow upon his one true love.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered aloud as she opened the locket. Inside rested a tiny picture of Willy and Ursula, taken on the day he’d first expressed his love for her. Ursula smiled as her finger traced the photograph, remembering her reaction when Willy had first said the words “I love you.” She had thrown her arms around his neck and kissed his entire face before responding, “Well, of course I love you too!” She stood and donned the locket, silently vowing never to remove it.
A knock sounded. She glanced at the bedside clock and realized she was running late. Willy must have returned to gather his wayward fiancée. She ran to the door and quickly opened it, ready to embrace him. A surprised steward took a step backward, then regained his composure when she dropped her outstretched arms.
Speaking in German, she said, “Please excuse me. I thought you were someone else.”
Confusion contorted the young man’s features before he responded in English. “You have a telephone call—” Ursula stared at him, uncomprehending. He blinked several times and then said, “Telephone,” as he mimicked holding a phone receiver, then pointed at Ursula. “A woman. For you.”
“Ah.” Ursula smiled, understanding. Then she frowned. Who would be phoning me on this ship? I told no one I was leaving.
Ursula nodded and held up her finger to ask him to wait. She reviewed her reflection once more, smoothed some unruly strands of hair, and motioned him to lead the way. She closed the door behind her and decided that she would surprise Willy after taking the telephone call. She would
sneak up behind him and cover his eyes, then show him her exquisite necklace. How clever of him to slip it into my bag when I wasn’t looking. She followed the steward, musing as to when Willy might have hidden the gift, when the young man stopped before a closed door marked “Telephones.” He nodded curtly and left, leaving Ursula alone.
She opened the heavy door to find a bank of four telephones. The small, rectangular room was empty, and one receiver lay on its side, awaiting her. She picked it up. “Hello?”
“Yes. Hello, Ursula. I was calling to say good-bye and safe travels.”
The door to the room opened and two well-dressed gentlemen entered, arguing loudly in German. Ursula turned away from them and placed her left hand over her ear in an attempt to muffle the noise, but they raised their voices even more.
“Who is this? I can barely hear you.” She cast an annoyed glance at the men, but they were too involved in their disagreement to pay her any attention.
“It’s Anna. I was just calling to say good-bye and I’m sorry.”
A frisson of fear pricked Ursula. “How did you know where I am, Anna?”
The men abruptly ceased speaking, and a quiet stillness permeated the air. Before her brain could register what was happening, she felt pressure against her back. A hand grabbed the receiver she was holding and wrapped the cord around her neck, pulling her backwards into the body of her attacker. Choking, she clawed at her throat and managed to get her fingers under the cord but still couldn’t breathe. As her vision narrowed, the man released the cord just enough to allow a full breath. She heaved and coughed before he tightened it once more, renewing her paroxysms. She thought of Anna listening on the telephone line, then ceased struggling as bright lights appeared at the edges of her visual field. As she faded into oblivion, hot, uneven breath on her cheek roused her and a deep, raspy voice whispered in her ear.
“Hello, Fräulein Becker. You are to come with us. Listen carefully. You have a choice. You can quietly follow me, and your father will sail happily to England with Willy, or I can inject you with this drug and then kill your father. Which would you prefer? Hmmm?”
Ursula made a small choking sound and the cord relaxed. She threw herself against the wall as she doubled over coughing. Anna’s tinny voice came across the line.
“Ursula? What’s happening? Are you alright? Ursula?”
The man with the raspy voice picked up the receiver, listened for a moment, and then gently replaced it in its cradle. “It was thoughtful that your sister called to say good-bye.”
Terrified, Ursula stood up and massaged her neck. When she spoke, her damaged larynx created a hoarse tone that sounded eerily similar to her assailant’s. “Who are you?”
The man glanced at his companion and waved his small hand as if swatting at a fly. “It is of no consequence who we are.”
Ursula’s eyes darted from one man to the other, and then to the door. Her attackers stood between her and freedom, but she calculated that if she could just—
“I know what you are thinking, Fräulein, but please understand that the action you are entertaining will end with not only your death, but Otto’s as well.”
Hearing this disgusting man say her father’s name enraged and emboldened her. “I do not know who you think you are, but when my fiancé discovers what you have done, you can rest assured that you will lose not only your jobs, but perhaps your lives as well!” Her outburst provoked a new round of coughing.
The men exchanged amused looks. “Well, I must say, you are living up to your reputation as a spitfire.” His smile faded slowly, and his eyes darkened. “Make your decision, Fräulein. If you come quietly, your father lives. If you do not . . .” The man let the unspoken threat hang in the air between them. “The ship leaves in . . .” He consulted his wristwatch. “Four minutes.”
Ursula panicked and lunged for the door. The man with the raspy voice moved quickly and in one efficient movement grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm behind her, slamming her face against the wall. She cried out but was silenced as a needle slid into her carotid artery. She melted to the floor, unconscious.
***
Willy stood at the railing on the Lido deck, two glasses of champagne in his hands. He searched the crowd for Ursula as Otto stood beside him, waving wildly at the well-wishers who lined the dock. As the huge ship commenced the laborious process of detaching itself from its berth, Willy took no heed of two well-dressed men walking down the gangplank with a large bundle slung between them.
II
25
“Anna, if you don’t stop banging your violin against the bed it will break!” Ursula ordered.
The rhythmic thumping continued. “Anna, did you hear what I said? Willy gave you that beautiful instrument. If you don’t have respect for the violin, think of how sad Willy will be when he discovers your irreverence towards his generous gift.” Still, the measured strikes persisted. Ursula sighed heavily. “Anna, my head is exploding with the noise. Please stop—”
A rush of cool air startled Ursula awake. She opened her eyes, and blurry objects swam in her vision. She blinked several times and tried to lift her head, only to be rewarded with a stabbing pain in her neck and shoulders. Raising her hand to her face, she was shocked to feel swollen eyes. Slowly she traced a finger along the bone of her nose and grimaced. It was no longer straight.
“Looks like you were in a nasty altercation, if I might say so.”
With great effort Ursula turned her gaze slightly to the left. Her vision cleared enough to see a woman of about sixty seated diagonally across from her. She clutched an embroidered bag tightly against her chest. “I’m no doctor, but I believe your nose might be broken.”
Ursula nodded and retched, catching her vomit in her hands. The woman quickly unfastened her bag and withdrew a cotton towel, then reached across the narrow space between them and placed the towel in Ursula’s hands. When Ursula didn’t move, the woman tutted and crossed to sit next to her. She wiped Ursula’s hands, gently but efficiently restoring her cleanliness. Ursula examined her. She was well dressed and carried herself with dignity. The woman stopped rubbing. “It’s not polite to stare, young lady. Didn’t your mother teach you that?”
Ursula gazed out the window. Streaks of green, yellow, and brown hurtled by. She remembered traveling at a fast speed recently, but she couldn’t remember where she’d been traveling, when, or with whom. A thumping sound permeated her consciousness and her muddled brain slowly grasped that she was on a train. The rhythmic thwacks of the wheels against the tracks echoed the thumping of Anna’s violin in her dream. “My mother died years ago.”
The woman removed the cloth and sat still. “I’m sorry to hear that.” She paused, then resumed rubbing Ursula’s hands. “I had a daughter. She was about your age.” The woman stole a glance at Ursula’s face. “She was beautiful, like you were before recent events I would imagine.”
Ursula stared dumbly, unable to process an appropriate response.
“My name is Marika. And yours?”
“Ursula.”
The woman physically withdrew. “Mein Gott. That was my daughter’s name. What a coincidence.”
Ursula’s eyebrows knitted and a wave of nausea followed. She swallowed hard. “What happened to your daughter?”
Marika’s lips formed a thin line as she balled up the soiled cotton towel and placed it gently on the wood floor at her feet. “She was mauled by the SS. The animals raped her to death.” Marika’s stare turned cold. “As long as I live, I will fight in her memory and honor.” The last words caught in the grieving mother’s throat, and she brought her hand to her mouth. “Please forgive me. It happened some weeks ago and I’m not accustomed to speaking so plainly. The wound is so raw, so—”
Ursula placed her hand on Marika’s arm, silencing her. “You don’t need to explain,” she whispered. “We’ve all seen unspeakable horro
rs. I’m so sorry about your daughter.” The two women sat quietly for a moment in an immediate kinship borne of tragedy.
Ursula asked, “Is that why you’re on this train? To get away from your daughter’s killers? I’m afraid the SS is everywhere these days. I’m no longer sure you can outrun them by train.”
Marika tilted her head and stared at Ursula. “My dear, I’m not escaping. On the contrary. I never would have chosen to leave the town in which I was born, grew up, married, and raised my daughter. I was ordered to appear at the Hamburg train station. My number was thirty-nine. There are about fifty of us here.”
Ursula’s jumbled thoughts started to clear as she stared at the yellow, six-pointed star on Marika’s overcoat. I have a star on my coat too. She looked at her clothes. Her dress was streaked with dried blood. Where is my coat? she wondered. Marika noted her scrutiny and pointed to the star. “This is what caused my Ursula’s trouble. She refused to wear it and was singled out as an example.” Marika breathed deeply, then cleared her throat. “I see that you don’t wear a yellow badge. You’re not Jewish. So, why are you on this train?”
Ursula stared in confusion. “Yes,” she mumbled. “Why am I on this train?”
Marika patted Ursula’s hand. “You’re not feeling well. Your uncle carried you onto the train in Berlin. He said that you’d been in a car accident, and that you were heavily medicated. But that if you awoke before your stop, to tell you that your father is safe, and Willy will be waiting for you in England. Does that make you feel better, dear?”
Ursula’s eyes welled up and a look of concern swept Marika’s features. “No, no, Ursula. Your uncle said that your father is safe. That’s a good thing. And Willy will meet you in England.”
Recent events hurtled back and sent her imagination into a tailspin. She touched her neck where she’d been choked with the phone cord. Her skin was raw. She closed her eyes and could feel her assailant’s hot breath as he promised to kill Otto if she didn’t cooperate. That had been immediately before she’d lunged for the door. She hadn’t cooperated. “I have to get off this train.” She stood, and vertigo returned her to her seat.
Swan Song Page 18
