Mendelevski's Box

by Roger Swindells

  The customers were all talking about the situation in the Indies. Although news was sparse it looked bad, and two of them were concerned about relatives who had already been interned under the Japanese for over three years. He understood little about the Indies independence problem, but he listened more intently when the upcoming trials of leading Nazis were mentioned.

  Most of the conversation, and hatred, centred around Seyss-Inquart, not so much because of his involvement with the deportation of Jews but because of his order to execute strikers, resisters and political prisoners. Simon hadn’t realised how involved he had been in the forced labour order, which had resulted in the death of Maaike’s father.

  ‘He did allow the Brits to drop supplies last winter though.’

  ‘Eventually, too little too late though, I hope the bastard burns in hell.’

  ‘He’ll get the rope, that’s for sure.’

  ‘The Queen’s going to Rotterdam this Friday. She’s unveiling a memorial to the poor devils they shot in March. There were twenty of them I think.’

  ‘What about Mussert then?’

  ‘He’s even worse if anything, he was one of our own, look at all those boys who joined the NSB because of him and fought for the Nazis. Hope he gets what’s coming to him as well. I think he’s going on trial here.

  ‘They’re talking about releasing the NSB lot from the prison camps, they’d better not show their faces in here.’

  ‘Who’s that? I need all the customers I can get.’ Jos crashed in through the door, obviously the worse for drink.

  ‘NSB, Jos.’

  ‘Oh, those bastards, they’re banned, they won’t get a drink in here. Anyway half of them are still in hiding shitting themselves.’

  He joined Simon behind the bar and poured himself a beer. ‘Hope you’re keeping these three in order, Simon.’

  ‘He’s doing a great job, and he won’t give us credit either.’

  ‘Good, too many of you lot owe me money. Have you seen her from upstairs at all?’

  ‘No, not at all.’

  ‘Good, I’m down the cellar if you need me.’

  By six, much to his surprise, the bar was extremely busy. Jos emerged from the cellar clearly as surprised as him.

  ‘Looks like I’m not the only one who got to his money today. Move up, I’ll give you a hand.’

  He looked on amazed as Jos worked the bar, serving three people at once, keeping a tally of everyone’s account and engaging in small talk. He was washing glasses as Jos prepared an order on a tray for four men up in the balcony area. He’d seen the men in the bar before although they weren’t among the regulars.

  ‘Send them up with the Jew kid, Jos, get the little fucker working.’

  ‘It’s alright, I’ll take this myself.’ Jos lifted the tray and bounded up the steps.

  ‘What did you say?’ Jos spoke softly to the leader of the group.

  ‘I was talking to the Jew, dirty slimy fuckers, I thought they were all dead but they’re still everywhere. What are you doing giving him a job?’

  Jos leaned across the table, his eyes blazing, and, picking him up by his collar, threw the man over the railing and down onto the floor of the bar below.

  ‘Throw the little shit out for me, boys, while I remove these three.’

  The remaining men hurried out of the door while the regulars at the bar helped their friend unceremoniously on his way.

  Jos went to the door and shouted out into the street, ‘And don’t come back if you know what’s good for you.’

  He turned back into the bar. ‘I’m so sorry, Simon, I’m ashamed to say they are my fellow citizens. You won’t see them in here again, I promise you. It’s not often we have trouble in here. Thank God Maaike isn’t at work.’

  ‘Why, what have I missed?’

  They all turned to see Maaike standing in the doorway. ‘What’s been happening?’

  ‘Maaike, what are you doing here?’ Jos went over to her and put his arm around her shoulders. ‘You shouldn’t be back yet.’

  ‘I got bored and had too much time to think just sitting at home, besides I was missing you lot. Now what’s been happening?’

  ‘Some men were insulting Simon, so we persuaded them to leave.’

  ‘I saw them in the street, one of them was holding his back, did he fall?’

  Jos laughed. ‘You could say that.’

  ‘Serves him right. Now move over and let me get behind the bar.’ She leaned her crutches against the bar flap and hopped over to and up onto the stool. Straightening her skirt over her stump she smiled at the row of drinkers. ‘Now gentlemen, is anyone ready for another beer?’

  ‘It’s great to have you back, Maaike.’

  ‘It’s great to be back, Jos.’

  ‘Well, I’m sure you and Simon can cope with this crowd, so I’d better go upstairs and face her.’

  The rest of the evening passed quickly. The bar was busy all night and he had to bring up crates of bottled beers as well as change the Amstel barrel. They were a good team, Maaike like Jos seemed able to serve more than one person at once and keep track of their bills, all from the stool from which everything was within reach. He was kept busy taking orders to those not sitting at the bar and washing glasses.

  Before he knew it, Jos appeared. ‘Come on you lot, it’s past eleven. All ashore that’s going ashore, the liberty boat’s leaving.’

  Eventually all the drinkers dragged themselves away, the hardened regulars from the bar stools bringing up the rear.

  Jos closed and bolted the door. ‘Now then you two, wages time and a drink I think, you’ve done well tonight, your busiest evening since you started, Simon. Beer for you, and no protests, and a small bessenjenever for you, Maaike?’

  He took a bundle of the new notes and a handful of new coins from his pocket and made both of them a generous payment over and above their wages. They sipped their drinks cautiously, neither being used to alcohol.

  ‘I expect you’ve both struggled with this new currency restriction thing and anyway, you both deserve a bonus. For different reasons, of course.’ He looked at Maaike and smiled sadly. ’You buy yourself something nice and Simon, get Grietje Blok a present or a bunch of flowers or something.’

  ‘Thank you, I’ll be able to pay her for my keep now.’

  ‘And I’ll be able to buy coffee even if it is at black market prices,’ she said and laughed.

  ‘How lovely to see you laugh again. Now get off home you two, it’s a late one tonight and I expect it will be even busier tomorrow when they all start spending again and settle all those outstanding bills.’

  They took the most direct route home, walking much of the way in silence. He sensed there was still tension between them. ‘About the other day…’ he started.

  ‘No, please don’t say anything, I’m sorry I embarrassed you, I just like you a lot and I wanted you to hold me, not like my father but like, well, something more, more physical.’

  ‘I like you too, I just don’t know how to react. I find you very attractive, but I’ve never been with a girl, it felt strange but somehow nice to feel you pressed against me.’

  ‘And I’ve never been with a man before, I’m only eighteen and I’m well, hardly pretty, a cripple.’

  ‘But you are pretty, the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, and I want to be with you as much as I can.’ He took her in his arms and kissed her.

  Friday 12th October 1945

  ‘You’re up early, I was going to let you sleep.’ Grietje was getting breakfast for herself and Irene. ‘You and Maaike were so late back last night, you seem to be getting later every night. Has it been very busy in the bar?’

  ‘It’s been busier since the money thing was sorted out, in fact Jos says things are getting back to how it was before the war.’

  It wasn’t a total lie, the bar was staying open until eleven most evenings, but the real reason for him and Maaike getting back late was their slow walks home and the long talks they had sitting on
‘their’ bench on Egelantiersgracht. Maaike was looking after Irene five or sometimes six days a week, so they rarely had time to actually go out anywhere together and they never seemed to be alone.

  ‘Why are you up so early? You’re not at work until four.’

  ‘I know, but I want to check the lists at the Red Cross again then I want to go to the market to see if I can find a thicker coat and I’m going in to work early, today’s the day Theo’s ship docks. He might come to the bar so I want to make sure I’m there.’

  ‘If you wait until tomorrow I’ll come and help you find a coat.’

  ‘I’m a big boy now, Grietje, I think I can manage to choose a coat on my own.’

  She looked hurt. ‘I was only trying to help, to make sure you don’t get swindled. You’re paying me now, so you can’t afford to waste your money.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I just want to do it on my own. It’s part of rebuilding my life, getting more confident, I suppose. I’ve got a job, thanks to you I’ve got a home, I pay my way and I’m trying to get registered so I actually exist again. Anyway, you’re working this Saturday, so I’ll be going to the food market for you.’

  ‘And for Maaike too, I suppose?’ She gave him a hard stare and banged the kettle down onto the gas ring.

  ‘Yes, if she needs anything. After all she’s looking after Irene and you know she has problems carrying shopping.’

  ‘I’ll do you a shopping list this evening.’ With that she went into the bedroom to dress Irene while he ate his breakfast.

  She emerged again, saying, ‘Oh, and get a haircut while you’re at it.’

  ‘I will, I didn’t realise how long it has been, don’t forget my head was shaved for years. Haircuts are not something I have had to think about.’

  It was another beautiful morning but there was a distinct chill on the breeze as he made his way over to Waterlooplein. More and more leaves littered the surface of the canals. He wanted to go to the Oudemanhuispoort to browse and perhaps buy some books now he had money. He loved books and missed his own. They had taken just a small selection into hiding with them.

  He cut through the Begijnhof enjoying its peace. Exiting through the side gate he saw a barber’s shop and following Grietje’s instructions he went in for a haircut.

  Seated in the chair he was taken aback and didn’t know what to say when the barber asked how he would like his hair cut. It brought back memories of having his head shaved by a fellow prisoner given the task of camp barber, who tended not to enquire of his customers what they would like.

  In the end he settled for a simple trim, asking the barber to ‘just tidy it up’. The barber asked if he also wanted a shave, clearly having noticed his own less than expert efforts. Never having experienced a professional shave before, he agreed, sat back and relaxed while the barber went to work.

  Feeling clean and relatively smart for the first time in almost three years he strode across Rokin towards Oudemanhuispoort.

  Six of the damp alcoves were open and he once again immersed himself in his great love, browsing through the piles of old and musty smelling volumes, totally losing track of the time. Half an hour turned into two hours before he realised, and he set off hurriedly to the market.

  It was clear he was too late as he searched in vain for a good winter coat among the pile of Dutch army greatcoats and ragged overcoats, all clearly examined at length and rejected by many discerning Dutch women before he even arrived.

  ‘Simon Mendelevski, over here!’

  He turned to see a wiry little woman he estimated to be in her late thirties frantically waving from the next row of stalls and trying to make her way over to him through piles of shoes, clothing and old tyre-less bicycles.

  She came up to him, red faced and out of breath. ‘It is you, Simon. Shalom Aleikhem. I knew it was although you’ve grown, and aged. Don’t you remember me? I’m Sarah Lewandowski, your mother’s friend from Jodenbreestraat.’

  ‘Of course. Aleikhem Shalom Mevrouw Lewandowski. A gutn tog. Vas makhstu?’

  ‘Existing, that’s about all. And you?’

  ‘The same I suppose, how long have you been back?’

  ‘Since June, but my house is gone, it’s just a pile of bricks, my family all died so I am alone. I am staying with a Jewish family out west.’

  ‘My house has a Dutch family in it now.’

  She nodded. ’It’s a problem for many, and when you went into hiding the Germans would have taken everything you left behind anyway.’

  ‘My father died, I know that, but I am still checking the lists for my mother and sister.’

  She looked up at him and placed a hand on his arm. Her face, so excited just a few moments before, creased with pain. ‘They’re both dead, Simon, I’m sorry.’

  His body shook, and he thought he was going to collapse. He held onto her and they walked slowly to sit on a wall nearby.

  Through tears he looked at her and said, ‘Thank you for telling me. Deep down I knew they could not be alive. Every day the list of newly identified survivors gets shorter, I think all those who are coming back are already here and any others who are alive are listed as being in a DP camp. Please tell me they didn’t suffer too long.’

  ‘I was with you all when we left the train. You and your father and my husband went one way with the men. Your mother and little sister were with me. I was chosen for work, I was younger, and fitter I suppose, than your mother and she had your little sister with her. They were killed that day. Please don’t ask me how I know it but believe me, they went to their deaths together and very quickly after we arrived.’

  ‘Sarah, I have to know, is there more? Please tell me.’

  She paused for a moment. ‘I saw their bodies carried out of the gas chamber. Your little sister was still in your mother’s arms.’

  He broke down again and she squeezed his hands. ‘That’s why I didn’t want to say anymore. But they were together, and your mother held your sister to the last.’

  He calmed himself, thanked her and they said their farewells. He took her address although like his own, she was hoping it was temporary. She wanted somehow to rebuild her life with the circle of any friends who might have survived. She urged him to keep in touch and tried to encourage him to return to the shul, which was open once more and hoping to welcome the remains of the old congregation, but he no longer felt part of his old community. In fact he had been putting off a return to the shul. There was no one left, either of his family or, it seemed, his age group. His life now was in the Jordaan with Maaike, Grietje and Jos.

  He walked back to Slootstraat in a daze, his thoughts racing, all his hopes dashed. He was the only survivor; even little Esther was dead. Why had he survived? Why couldn’t he have died instead of her?

  Maaike met him in the hallway. ‘Where on earth have you been? I made lunch for us, you have to be at work in an hour.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I forgot the time then I had some terrible news. The worst news, something I have feared but hoped would not be true.’ He began to weep.

  ‘Whatever is it?’

  ‘My mother and little Esther, I met a woman today who was my mother’s friend, she confirmed they are both dead. They were killed just after we arrived at the camp.’

  ‘Oh Simon, I’m so sorry, please come inside quickly.’

  She put down her crutches and hopped up to him, opening her arms. He buried his face in her shoulder and wept. Irene looked at them quizzically, then she too began to cry.

  ‘It should have been me, I should have died instead of them. Why did I survive, who decided I should be spared?’

  ‘Please don’t punish yourself, there was nothing you could do, it was the Nazis, they decided who lived and who died. Stay here with me until Grietje comes home. I will go to work early in your place and explain to Jos, he will understand I’m sure. You can stay at home with Grietje.’

  ‘No, I must go, Theo, the man who may know about what happened when we were hiding, may come to the bar today.
I was going to get to work by two in case he came in early.’

  ‘If you can look after Irene until Grietje gets back I will go in at four and you can come in at six, we’ll just swap our shifts around. It will give you a little time and I’m sure if the man is around he’ll wait for you.’

  Grietje was back early so he only had to look after Irene for a short time. She was very good, almost as if she sensed he was unhappy. After her initial surprise to find him looking after her daughter, Grietje heard his news with great sadness, having known his mother and sister.

  ‘I am so sorry, you were always so optimistic. It breaks my heart, let me hold you.’ She took him in her arms and stroked his hair as if he was a child. ‘It’s just you, me and Irene now.’

  She wanted him to stay at home so she could ‘look after’ him but he insisted on going to work. Like Maaike he wanted to be busy so as not to think too much about his devastating news, and he was now even more anxious to see Theo.

  The bar was busy when he arrived, and Jos was behind the counter with Maaike. ‘Sorry I’m late.’

  ‘That’s alright. Maaike told me your bad news, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what to say. Those damn Nazis, I just hope they get what’s coming to them at Nuremberg.’

  ‘I just didn’t want to let you down as it’s so busy.’

  ‘Perfectly alright, I’ve rather enjoyed working with the lovely Maaike here, she’s much prettier than you.’ As usual he laughed at his own joke. ‘Now I know what you’re going to ask me, and the answer is yes, the ship’s in, but no he hasn’t been here yet. He’s obviously not very thirsty.’ He laughed again. ‘Nice haircut by the way.’

  ‘Thank you, you know how badly I need to find out what happened and after today somehow it’s even more important.’

  By nine the bar was absolutely full and both he and Jos were helping Maaike by taking orders to the tables. He kept watching the door as people came in, taking particular notice of any faces he didn’t recognise. Just before ten a stocky red-faced man in his fifties with grey thinning hair entered, stood behind the drinkers on the bar stools and, leaning between them, spoke to Maaike. She pointed over to him and Jos and the man approached them.