The German Girl

by Lily Graham

  ‘So, I’m in his bad books,’ Asta finished.

  ‘Very bad books,’ said Jürgen.

  The blond officer frowned. ‘The uniform is a solemn symbol; I hope you have learnt your lesson – it is not something to be mocked.’

  ‘Oh, I have, sir.’

  They were still staring at them when Sofie clinched the deal by opening up her bag, and taking out one of the two tins – this one green with a red-and-white striped lid. Inside were biscuits. ‘Would you like one?’ she asked.

  ‘My thanks,’ said the blond one, taking a large golden biscuit. ‘My God, this is lovely, try it,’ he said to the other, who reached for one, his eyes widening as he chewed. ‘That texture, so rich, what’s in it?’

  ‘Lard,’ said Sofie. ‘It’s blessed,’ she joked.

  ‘That it is,’ he replied. ‘Well, good luck with your journey, you might want to stick to the path,’ he said. ‘There’s a place a few hundred metres that way where they have a coffee station. Tell the other rangers there Officer Krill sent you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ they said, and left, hardly daring to breathe, shocked that they had managed to pass as Gentiles.

  After a while, when their hearts had finally stopped thundering in their ears and the officers were no longer in earshot, Sofie looked at Asta. ‘I can’t believe you said that – about your “maid” Sara.’

  Asta nodded. ‘I know, I’m sorry, I just thought—’

  ‘No, child, don’t get me wrong, it was brilliant.’

  ‘Why was that brilliant – she sounded like some horrible racist!’ cried Esther.

  Hershel shook his head. ‘She sounded like one of those privileged German Youth League girls who have been taught to hate Jews. It was probably what saved us. He was on the fence till then,’ said Hershel. ‘Trust me, I was a lawyer, I could see it – that was the moment he started to believe.’

  Lars shook his head. ‘Nothing like a bit of racism to form a bond,’ he said, sarcastically.

  ‘I almost thought I’d die when she said that, I was so shocked,’ said Esther. ‘I actually forgot for a moment that you were Jewish yourself.’ She laughed. ‘Who knew you two were such good actors?’

  Jürgen smiled. ‘We’re not good at a lot of things,’ he said, ‘like mathematics or playing by the rules.’ He grinned. ‘But pulling pranks, well, that’s our speciality.’

  They all returned his grin, but nervously.

  Jürgen looked at Sofie, and said, ‘Those cookies – that was very clever too – but why did you say the lard was blessed?’

  To their surprise, she laughed. ‘Because I make it with smaltz – Jewish lard, and it had been blessed, by a rabbi.’

  They all howled with laughter.

  When they were quite sure the officers weren’t nearby, Goran led them away from the path, doing more of the heavy thinking that they’d been growing accustomed to from him. ‘If we head the way they suggested, it is still technically on the route I planned, and we’d still cross the border – perhaps later this afternoon, depending on how many miles we can cross today. However, I don’t relish the idea of drawing more attention to ourselves. We had a lucky escape. I wouldn’t want to push it.’

  ‘But we pulled it off,’ said Esther, with a frown.

  ‘Yes, because – and I’m sorry to say it – we did most of the talking,’ said Hershel. ‘Three of us have accents that no amount of pretending to be a Gentile is going to disguise.’

  Esther blinked. ‘I don’t have an accent – I wasn’t even born in Poland.’

  ‘You do,’ said Asta, slightly shocked at her. ‘I’m sorry – but you do sound like you speak Yiddish or come from Poland, and I’m sure they will be looking for that.’

  Esther frowned.

  Ruth and Lars looked like they wanted to argue, but Goran held up a hand. ‘I don’t want to fight, I’m just trying to think of a way to get us out of here in one piece, all right?’

  Hershel frowned. ‘I agree – we don’t all sound the part. I can put on a posh German accent, though, like I did before. I was used to the prejudice, trained to spot it as a lawyer. But, well, I am wondering – isn’t it sometimes easier to hide in plain sight than way out off the beaten track?’

  Goran shrugged. ‘You aren’t wrong – but I do think the accent is a concern. So we’ll take a vote?’

  Almost everyone agreed with Goran, apart from Hershel and Jürgen, the latter having seen the sense of the lawyer’s words. ‘I feel like the officers would expect to see us, and wouldn’t think to question us again, that’s all I’m saying.’

  ‘But what if we’re forced to speak – I can’t do what Hershel did – I didn’t even realise I sound different,’ said Esther. Then she paused and frowned. ‘I roll my rs a bit, I hear it now, a little, ugh, but even so – I can’t unlearn how to talk in a day, can I?’

  ‘No, you can’t,’ said Goran. The others nodded in agreement, and they diverged from the route the officers had suggested, taking a wilder path.

  They walked through the empty forest. Asta’s thin city boots had split apart at the toe, and the cold from the leaves and mud from the ground turned the skin swollen and soft. Seeing her dilemma, Sofie, who was hobbling herself, each step an agony, sacrificed a long woollen scarf. ‘Tie it around that boot; it won’t dry your feet out – for that we’ll need a fire, and a rest – but at least no more water will get in,’ she said, helping her to make a firm knot.

  Asta was touched, considering how much pain the older woman clearly was in. Like Asta, none of the others had proper hiking boots. This was another reason, Goran pointed out, that it was a good idea they didn’t stay too near people. Their story had worked, possibly due to the surprise factor, and the quick thinking of Hershel and the twins, but how long before any of the rangers or officers – who were patrolling the area, no doubt, for just such a possibility of Jews fleeing into Denmark – started wondering why a group of people who’d apparently been preparing for a camping trip for a year hadn’t thought to wear any sensible shoes?

  After two hours’ walking, Esther begged for mercy. ‘I’m sorry, please, I am not used to this pace, I am exhausted, can we stop, just for a moment?’ There were tears in her eyes, and she was pinching the skin around her forehead. ‘My head is pounding.’

  ‘My knee could use a break too,’ said Sofie, who looked like she was on the verge of collapse.

  Goran frowned. They hadn’t got very far as it was – what should have taken an hour or so had been twice that, which made their predicament all the more dangerous. It was clear he wanted to press on but his face softened when he looked at her. He hesitated. Then sighed. ‘Okay, just for an hour – enough for a small rest, and to eat something, and then we really must carry on.’

  Esther released a sigh of relief. ‘Yes, please, just a moment.’ Then she pointed up ahead at a nearby running stream. ‘Let’s get some water, then we’ll be able to think. There’s no use pushing on if we drop down later.’

  Hershel and Goran shared a worried look that Esther didn’t see. Possibly that a few hours’ walk was nothing. The longer they stretched it out, the greater their chances of being found.

  Asta and Jürgen went to collect water in a tin can that Lars provided, then they sat down gratefully around the fire that Goran built, feeding the small flames into the log pile they’d found near the shelter the day before.

  Asta blew onto her hands, trying to warm them up, and gratefully took a seat on a fallen log. She was frozen and her feet were throbbing in pain due to her thin, impractical shoes; she could quite cheerfully have curled up right then and had a nap, but the pressing need of her aching feet drowned out all else. She unwrapped the scarf around her thin leather boot, which was soaked in mud and leaves, the smell boggy and foul, and curled her knee up to her chest as she tried and failed to undo her sodden laces. They’d swollen from the water and heat of her feet, and the knot she’d tied to keep them tight around her ankle was proving impossible to loosen. Her fingers were stif
f and plump from cold, and as much as she tried she couldn’t get the knot undone. Like Sofie, she felt close to tears.

  ‘Hey, Küken, give it here,’ said Jürgen, picking her foot up and plopping the muddy boot on his knee, where his nimble fingers made quick work of the stubborn knot and laces. She looked up at him gratefully, and he winked at her. ‘You loosened it for me.’

  He pulled off the offending shoe, only to pull back, wrinkling his nose. ‘Good lord, that’s nasty.’

  She pulled a face. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘It’s the muddy water.’ She withdrew her foot, and peeled off a thick wool sock, only to swallow as some skin came away revealing a large, painful-looking gouge.

  Jürgen’s face turned from revulsion to concern. ‘Geez, that looks bad, Küken.’

  Hearing him, Goran came over to investigate. ‘Those shoes are just no good for this,’ he said.

  Asta raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, it’s not like I knew I would be doing a hike, Goran.’

  He nodded, then frowned. ‘That’s going to be a problem, though.’

  Asta shook her head. ‘I’ll be fine. I’m tough as old boots.’

  Jürgen grinned. ‘Course you are.’

  Sofie, however, shook her head. ‘Asta, if you leave it like that it’ll get infected.’ She looked at the others. ‘Has anyone got any iodine?’

  They shook their heads. Esther sighed, and put her head in her hands. ‘I thought to bring all my jewels, and a stupid toaster, but not medicine. I’m a foolish old woman.’

  Asta reached out for her hand. ‘Well, if we had electricity and bread, I know what I’d want more.’

  ‘A hole in the head?’ asked Esther, and they all grinned.

  Asta looked up at the others. ‘I will be fine. I think if we can just let my socks dry out a bit and I’ll pour some water over my feet to clean them – that will help.’

  Sofie sighed, then lifted her long black skirt, and unrolled a thick woollen stocking to reveal her knee.

  They all gasped. It was swollen – almost double in size to what it should be. The old woman’s hands shook, as she touched it and flinched.

  Esther looked at her in horror. ‘You can’t walk on that!’ she cried.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ said Sofie, who tried and failed to roll the stocking back over the swollen joint.

  Hershel shook his head. ‘I think we’ll just have to rest for today, you can’t walk like that.’

  Sofie shook her head. ‘I’ll be fine.’

  Esther touched her shoulder. ‘It’s not just you. I can’t.’ She was holding her head. ‘It feels like my brain is going to explode. I can’t even see straight.’

  Goran sat down, nodding, admitting defeat. ‘We’ll camp here tonight,’ he said.

  15

  Sofie handed around the last of her biscuits, and Jürgen took out a brown paper package that was filled with smoked German sausages, and another full of cheese. ‘Courtesy of Herman, the not-so-magnificent,’ he said, with a grin.

  Esther looked, then gasped aloud. ‘But that’s pork,’ she said, shocked, as Jürgen broke off a piece and put it into his mouth. The others declined as he tried passing it around.

  ‘I know,’ said Jürgen, ‘but we don’t have a lot of food, and we need to keep our strength up.’

  Lars, who’d been sitting next to him, stood up suddenly, a frown between his eyes, and made his way to the stream, walking fast.

  Jürgen blinked, following him with his gaze. Esther looked at the boy. ‘He’s a very devout man, Jürgen, but I’m sure he’ll calm down.’

  Jürgen felt wrong-footed. ‘I’m sorry… I didn’t even think.’

  Sofie patted Jürgen’s arm, but Ruth frowned at the boy. ‘Well, you should. You don’t think he’s been asked to do enough? You know what the Torah says about hair on the side of men’s heads – if you cut it you let the devil in? No, of course you don’t because clearly you were never taught about your own religion! Yet knowing what he did, and that there was no other choice, he did it. But this – this offal – he does have a choice over. How stupid are you to offer a man like that pork?’

  She stood up on with all the dignity she could muster, touched her head, then frowned as her hand encountered uncovered hair, and went to join her husband, a scowl on her face.

  Esther made a tutting sound after her. ‘Sometimes it’s hard to remember you’re supposed to be the grown-ups.’ Then she closed her eyes, and touched her chest; they could hear her muttering a silent prayer in Yiddish. Then she held out her palm. ‘I’ll have some – it’s not as if there’s anything else.’

  It was sometime later when Lars and Ruth returned, both looking sour.

  Jürgen tried to apologise once again, but the man wouldn’t look the boy in the eye. He flung something onto the ground instead. It was bloody and covered in mud.

  ‘It’s a hare!’ cried Esther, sitting up straighter to see the bloodied creature.

  There was still a small piece of sausage on her lap, which he seemed to glance at with disgust. Esther’s hand came out quickly to mask the offending item.

  ‘But we have no hunting gear – how did you manage that!’ said Hershel, looking impressed.

  Lars narrowed his eyes at them all, then spat. ‘He was injured, in a trap. I put him out of his misery. There is always the option to look for food. The Lord provides – if you are willing to work, to use your brain; the Devil offers the easy way out,’ he said, giving a pointed look at Esther, and glaring at Jürgen. Then he began to skin the hare in a few quick movements. Esther opened her mouth, perhaps to ask how he’d learnt to do that, but closed it again. She looked at the bit of sausage like it was poison.

  Feeling mutinous, Asta picked it up and shoved it into her mouth. ‘Delicious,’ she said, looking at her brother. ‘I seem to recall that the Lord helps those who help themselves.’

  The look Lars shot her afterwards was one of pure venom, and she almost regretted her behaviour.

  As Lars prepared the meat for a spit using twigs, Goran looked at him, and shook his head. ‘You should hope that whoever’s trap that was doesn’t come looking for his dinner.’

  Lars placed the fire-sharpened stick through the animal’s flesh, then put it above the flames. ‘No, they’ll just see that the animal escaped.’

  Goran stared at him for some time, his eyes dark and incredulous. Lars intercepted the stare and snapped, ‘What?’

  ‘Are you an idiot?’ asked Goran.

  Lars’s eyes flared in sudden anger. ‘What?’ he hissed.

  ‘I said, are you an idiot? You took a hare out of a hunter’s trap. Someone who lives around here, maybe, or a ranger, even – or someone from border patrol,’ he said, indicating the many hectares of wood. ‘And left a bloody trail for him to follow.’

  Lars made a huffing sound of dismissal. ‘Pfft, what trail – it’s not like I dragged the creature here!’

  Usually mild-manned, Goran looked ready to hit him. ‘Get up,’ he said.

  ‘What?’ asked Lars, looking from the meat that was beginning to roast, to look at Goran in disbelief.

  Goran strode around the fire, towards the path where Lars had come from. Then he knelt down and picked up some leaves and sniffed. ‘See?’ he said, roughly, holding out the pile towards the other man.

  ‘What? I see some old muddy leaves. You know what, Goran? You can drop this macho act now, I’m getting tired of it.’

  Goran blew out his cheeks in frustration. He shoved the leaves towards Lars’s face, rubbing one of them with his fingertips, which came away smeared with blood.

  ‘Blood droplets – and I can guarantee they are evenly distributed from wherever you took the creature to here. Fresh blood,’ he emphasised.

  ‘So what!’ said Lars. ‘Do you expect me to be impressed?’

  Goran bunched his hands into fists. ‘No, Lars, but I expect you to use your brain – if there is a tracker or hunter out there they will know that you helped yourself to their trap!’

  Ruth shook
her head. ‘How could they possibly know that?’

  Goran stared at them as if they were idiots. ‘No animal tracks. No smudged blood or disturbed leaves from paws – but what they will see is two pairs of human footprints. A wounded animal that gets itself free – well, they might let it live to see another day – though truth be told, most wouldn’t want it to suffer with a broken paw, but I can promise you that if they know that you have taken their kill from their trap they will hunt you down, like the thief you are.’

  ‘Surely not?’ said Esther, who’d paled.

  Goran looked at her. ‘Are you willing to take that chance?’ He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, but it’s time to go.’

  ‘What?’ exclaimed the others at once.

  ‘But I thought we were spending the night,’ cried Ruth.

  Goran began to kick over the fire, to Lars’s outrage. ‘Hey, stop that! I’m cooking here!’

  Goran shook his head. ‘You have this fool to thank if whoever’s trap that was comes looking for that hare. We’ll be in trouble, and we’ll have a hard time trying to explain ourselves.’

  ‘But surely they won’t come back for what’s in the trap straight away,’ said Asta, who thought she might cry at the prospect of putting her wet socks and shoes back on, and walking on her poor, swollen feet. ‘I mean, don’t they check only every few days?’

  ‘Not always,’ said Goran. ‘And I, for one, do not want to be some sitting duck in case they come here and find us roasting their kill, which is what this fool is asking us to do,’ he spat, his anger suddenly overcoming him.

  Lars had clearly had enough, and he stood up quickly, and took a swing at him.

  Hershel and Jürgen dove at Lars, holding him back. Esther had jumped up with Asta, in case it turned into a fight, but Goran just stared at Lars, then wiped a trickle of blood from his lip. ‘You should have just taken the boy’s meat,’ he said. ‘You’re a fool.’

  ‘Well, if I’m a fool I think that’s it, then – time to go our separate ways.’

  Goran shrugged. ‘Fine by me.’

  ‘No,’ cried Esther. ‘You’re both acting like idiots. You know that the pork was a step too far – none of us were actually starving. Let’s just let it go, we need each other.’