Mendelevski's Box

by Roger Swindells

  ‘Let’s press on to Tolstraat, it’s on the tramline we pick up at the end of Overtoom, I hope! Anyway, I fancy speaking some Frisian with Meneer Dykstra.’

  ‘What’s the position with him invoice-wise? There was no engraving on it but it’s the last watch, so it must be his, unless he got his back some way and didn’t pay.’

  ‘There was only the carbon copy invoice, which was torn, but it doesn’t appear to have paid written on it. Presumably your father sent the bill out, but that’s all we know. The invoice was dated August 1942, were you in Kromme Palmstraat then?’

  ‘I think so, but it looks like it was sent out somehow. Hopefully Gerrit posted it, surely father didn’t go out and post it himself.’

  She studied the map and notes Jos had written. ‘Tolstraat is a long street like Wilhelminastraat and the address for Dykstra is number 97. Jos said we should stay on this tram until it reaches the Amstel. It’s a long walk along the river to Tolstraat, but it looks like if we change trams at the junction of van Woustraat it will take us down to Tolstraat, about halfway down in fact, so 97 might be close.’

  She was right once again, and they found it easily without too much walking. There were two front entrances, a door at street level for 97A and, through an archway, a flight of steep stairs up to the landings and presumably the front doors of 97B and C.

  ‘Which one is it?’

  She laughed. ‘I don’t know, all I remember is 97. I hope it’s the ground floor, let’s try that one first.’

  A young boy answered the door. ‘Miserable old man? About eighty, bit smelly? You want upstairs, first floor. I think he’s in.’

  He stared at the crutches. ‘Did your leg get shot off in the war?’ He turned and slammed the door.

  ‘Can you make it?’

  Maaike looked at the steep flight of stone stairs. ‘I think so, I’m not too bad on stairs, I can get up to Grietje’s, but can you go up behind me in case?’

  He followed her as she crutched slowly and methodically up the stairs.

  ‘I hope he’s in after all this,’ she joked. ‘I’m not going down without a coffee and a sit down.’

  He was in and the door opened a few inches. ‘Who’s there? What do you want?’

  ‘Goedemiddag. Meneer Dykstra? Cornelis Dykstra?’

  ‘Bugger off, you bastard Germans, you’ve taken it all already.’

  ‘We’re not Germans, please don’t be afraid.’

  Maaike put the tip of her crutch in the door before he could close it and spoke quietly to the frightened man. Simon hardly understood a word, he assumed it was that strange Frisian dialect she had mentioned but the old man clearly did. It worked wonders, the door opened wide and the man started smiling and chattering away.

  ‘This is Cornelis, he’s from Friesland like me.’

  He held out his hand. ‘I’m Simon Mendelevski, I’m sorry, I don’t understand Frisian.’

  ‘No, I’m sorry, I haven’t spoken to anyone in Frisian in years apart from my lovely wife Sytske. I’ll speak Dutch now, it was just nice to hear Frisian again and to speak with your wife. Come in.’

  ‘We’re just friends, Cornelis, I’m not his wife.’

  The old man smiled. ‘Well, you should be.’ He turned to Simon. ‘Why haven’t you asked her?’

  He stood back and they entered the main room. It was very dark and smelled of the old man’s cigarettes, damp and boiled vegetables. The man’s hair was lank and unwashed, and his woollen cardigan was stained with food and missing a button. The absence of a woman’s touch was clear; there were mountains of old newspapers everywhere and layers of dust and cobwebs.

  He felt himself blushing at the reference to Maaike as his wife. He looked at her. She was desperately trying not to laugh, so he quickly changed the subject. ‘So you’re from Friesland too? How long have you been in Amsterdam?’

  ‘Probably since before you two were born. I’m seventy-five, Sytske and I arrived in 1922. She died last winter, starved and frozen to death thanks to the Nazis.’

  Maaike settled in a chair and smiled up at him, sensing his sorrow. ‘Why did you come here, Cornelis?’

  ‘I worked on the railway building the line in Friesland. We finished it in 1913. The two railway companies were in financial trouble after the war, I don’t know why they were affected, we were neutral, but for some reason they were so we moved here, and I worked on the track between Centraal and the big depot at Amersfoort.’

  ‘It was the same for my father, he moved to Rotterdam looking for work after the Afsluitdijk was finished.’

  ‘So how did you get here?’

  ‘We were bombed when the war started, my mother was killed and my father is dead now too.’

  ‘Will you go back to Friesland?’

  ‘I don’t know, Simon wants me to go on a visit to see my aunt but I don’t really want to stay there, unless of course he comes with me.’

  ‘He will if he has any sense at all. And what about you, young man, are you from Amsterdam?’

  ‘I was born here but my parents came from Lithuania originally.’

  ‘You’re a Jew, I think, yes?’

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘And you survived the war. There don’t seem to be many Jews left, there used to be quite a lot living around here but now there is no one.’

  Apparently satisfied that everybody’s background had been fully explored, he sat down opposite her. ‘Now then, young lady, what can a lonely old man do for you?’

  ‘Well, it may be what we can do for you. Simon, why don’t you explain?’

  ‘We are here about your gold watch.’

  ‘My watch! I don’t have a watch anymore!’ He suddenly grew very agitated. ‘I took it for repair, I paid his invoice, but the thief never returned it to me. I think he probably sold it to the Nazis, the bastard.’

  ‘No, you don’t understand. The watchmaker was Aviel Mendelevski. I’m Simon Mendelevski, the watchmaker was my father.’

  The old man looked confused. ’But why are you here? I paid your father’s bill, but he kept my watch.’

  ‘He kept it because I think he was arrested and sent to Auschwitz before he could send it to you. How did you pay him? Where did you take the money?’

  ‘I didn’t take it, I sent him a cheque. Wait a minute.’

  He crossed the room and frantically looked through a pile of letters and papers stacked high on an old bureau.

  ‘Wait, it’s here somewhere, I know it is. Ah! I have it. Look. He sent me this by post in August 1942, I’ve written ‘received 15th August 1942’ on it and I sent him a cheque by return. It was cheque number 233, I noted the number.’

  ‘You sent it by post? What address did you use?’

  ‘I posted it to the address on the invoice, Peperstraat, the same place I took the watch. He had it for a long time, I know that.’

  ‘That would be right, my father left there in 1941 and worked from our home until the middle of 1942. This is an old invoice, I suppose he just forgot about the address and sent it out. A lot of things were happening. We were in hiding by then and I think he probably finished working on your watch at that time. I don’t think he could have got your cheque. Was it cashed?’

  ‘I’ve no idea, it was so long ago. I assumed it was but maybe not, I don’t know. My wife used to check the bank account. I just remember sitting here waiting for my watch to arrive and when I went to try to collect it the place was boarded up.’

  He exchanged a smile with Maaike and reached into his pocket, ‘Well, it’s finally arrived, I’m sorry it’s so late.’

  She dried a tear as the old man reached out, his pale bony hands shaking almost uncontrollably, to take the watch from Simon. Like de Groot earlier, he turned the watch over and over in his hands, his nicotine stained fingers exploring and remembering the dents and scratches in the gold case.

  ‘What can I say to you, Simon Mendelevski? You have returned my watch, the watch my wife bought for me so many years ago. It’s all I
have left of her. I thought I would never see it again. I am so sorry I doubted your father, please thank him for me.’

  Before he could speak she interrupted, ‘Simon’s father is dead, his whole family is dead, but he wanted to finish his father’s business.’

  The old man sat in silence for a moment. ‘I have no words, young man, what a wonderful gesture that you should seek me out today. I can never thank you enough.’

  They left Dykstra sitting in the chair in the dim room, holding the watch to his ear. Simon went slowly down the steps in front of Maaike in case she needed support and they walked in silence to the tram stop.

  She was the first to speak as they waited for the tram. ‘I don’t think it was him either, but how was your father ever going to get the cheque?’

  ‘We’ll never know, maybe Gerrit was supposed to pick up the mail at Peperstraat, maybe father just got confused and forgot about the address on the invoice, but then he could hardly change it to Kromme Palmstraat, could he? Probably the Peperstraat landlord got it. Anyway, I’m not going to worry about it, we’ll never answer every question. One thing I do know is Cornelis Dykstra didn’t betray us, I’m sure of that.’

  They got back to Slootstraat at five thirty. Grietje had a beautiful meal waiting and the atmosphere was very different to the last time they all ate together.

  ‘Tell me, did you two make any progress today?’

  ‘Yes and no. We saw two of father’s customers and I think we established neither of them betrayed us to the Germans, but as far as who did we’re no further forward.’

  ‘I think we made them both very happy though,’ Maaike said and looked at him. ‘Simon gave them both their gold watches back. He finished his father’s work in a way.’

  Grietje looked surprised. ‘So there were gold watches in the box? You didn’t tell me that.’

  ‘Yes, but the watches weren’t mine, father didn’t manage to get them back to their owners so I did it today.’

  ‘That’s wonderful, Simon.’ She looked at him and then at Maaike. ‘He’s a wonderful boy, it’s no less than I expected of him. You’re a very lucky girl.’

  Monday 22nd October 1945

  Jos hadn’t specified a time to go down to see Theo Visser at the Westerdok, so he was outside the Cafe van Loon far too early and had to hammer on the door to attract attention.

  Jos’s wife threw open a side window and looked down. ‘What do you want? It’s Monday, we’re closed. What are you doing here anyway?’

  ‘I’m here to see Jos.’

  ‘He’s still in bed, lazy bastard, he was out with some of his drunken friends last night. You’ll have to wait.’

  He sat on the bench outside.

  She had left the window open and he heard her cursing her hungover husband.

  Jos cursed back and after a few minutes the door opened. ‘Simon, for goodness’ sake, it’s still night time, come in, come in, I’ll get dressed.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but you didn’t say what time.’

  ‘Have a seat in the bar, I won’t be a minute. I’ll bring down some coffee. We don’t have to be down at the dock until at least eleven.’

  He told Jos about the visits he and Maaike had made the day before and how he thought neither of the two watch owners could have betrayed his family.

  ‘So that’s two of the watches your father left you gone.’

  ‘Yes, but they weren’t mine at all really, in fact they always belonged to de Groot and Dykstra, they just gave them to my father for repair. I had to return them to their rightful owners.’

  ‘You’re a good boy but it’s cost you a few guilders.’

  ‘Not when they weren’t mine anyway, father may have put them in the box for safekeeping but I’m sure he wanted to return them after the war and I know he would have if he’d lived.’

  ‘How many watches, complete ones not just cases, are left now?’

  ‘Just the one that should have been David Meijer’s. I’ve still got to see van der Meer, he had three according to father’s invoice—somehow he must have got them. His invoice is marked ‘paid’ as well, we just don’t know how.’

  ‘It could it be him then, the man who betrayed you all?’

  ‘We’re going to see him this afternoon, he lives on Johannes Vermeerstraat. I’ll tell you tomorrow.’

  ‘Nice address, there’s money there, probably a rich bastard who did well out of the war. Black marketeer or collaborator, you’d better be careful, it could be him.’

  The Westerdok was very busy with small coasters, so different to the huge vessels from the Indies Jos had helped to unload out on Java-eiland and KNSM Island.

  ‘I can’t see her, Triton, registered in Groningen and owned by Becks. She should have a blue funnel with a ‘B’ on it. She could be anywhere along this quay, perhaps we’re too early.’

  ‘There it is.’ He pointed to a small vessel, painted light grey with white accommodation topped with a dark wood stained bridge, in the process of tying up on the opposite side of the dock.

  ‘Well spotted, your eyes are younger than mine and she’s a ‘she’ not an ‘it’. Come on, let’s go before he goes ashore.’

  They hurried down to the lock gates and crossed to the other side of the dock. A crewmember was struggling to put out a gangway and Jos took hold of the end and pulled it further onto the dockside. ‘Lucky she’s in ballast, if she was loaded he’d never have got that gangway up and onto the quay.’ Jos clearly enjoyed being around docks, ships and shipping again.

  He called across to the crewmember who was busy securing the end of the gangway to the hatch cover. ‘Is Theo Visser aboard?’

  The man grunted and shrugged his shoulders just as Theo emerged from the door leading out onto the deck.

  ‘Theo! There you are. Thank goodness I asked where you were, but this miserable bugger doesn’t seem to understand basic Dutch.’ Jos started down the gangway onto the ship.

  ‘Of course, he does. He’s from the Indies, he’s been on here for years, all through the war apparently, but he’s started to be a problem ever since that independent Indonesia shit started. It’s got worse this trip since he heard about the fighting around Surabaya—that’s where his family is. He hasn’t been home for years, but his family survived the Japanese and now they’re in the middle of a civil war.’

  ‘I would have thought he could have rigged a bloody gangway by now then.’

  ‘He’s really the cook and in fairness he’s damn good. There are only five of us on board, the old man, the mate, the engineer, him as cook and me as the only AB. He helps me on deck, that’s why he was doing the gangway. It’s a bit different to the big Rotterdam Lloyd ships, that’s for sure.’

  ‘Can you go ashore, or do you have to stand by the ship?’

  ‘The old man said I can go as I live so close, but I have to be back by six as we’re moving across to the big silo to load grain for England.’

  ‘Have you got time for a beer with me and a chat with Simon here before you go home?’

  ‘I’ve got time for a beer and a chat instead of going home,’ he joked. ‘Seriously, I’ll have to call in to see the old girl, but so long as she doesn’t know exactly what time we got in all is good. I’ll just get my washing and we’ll go.’

  They walked across to Prinseneiland passing two customs officers on their way to the ship and entered a small, very old, bar on a corner.

  Jos knew the landlord, and so did Theo.

  ‘What are you having? These are on Simon.’

  Simon paid for the drinks, beer for him and beers and jenevers for the two men.

  ‘So what else can I do for you? What was in the box? Thank you for collecting it, one less thing for my wife to complain about.’

  ‘First of all, thank you and thank your sister for keeping it safe for me. My father had put lots of our family’s valuable things in there for safekeeping and there was some of his paperwork which I’m hoping will be helpful in the search for whoever betrayed us and your
brother-in-law. Next time I see you I’d like to give you something for your sister for her trouble and for Gerrit’s sacrifice for my family.’

  He waved his hand dismissively. ‘That’s not necessary. What can I do for you today?’

  ‘I appreciate it’s a long shot, but do you know if Gerrit did any favours or ran any errands for my father or did he simply deliver our food and check on us?’

  ‘My sister might know more, she knew a little bit of what he was up to. I had an idea he was minding a Jewish family in hiding but I didn’t know who or where until you and he had already been arrested, until my sister told me about the box in fact, but I do know he posted letters for your father.’

  ‘Ah, yes! That would have been the invoices. I know now that some went out while we were hiding, my father was still working, you see, but I didn’t know how.’

  ‘My sister told me he also made deliveries on at least two occasions. One in particular he told her about, no details, you understand, just that there were three solid gold very expensive watches, worth more money than Gerrit had ever seen.’

  ‘Van der Meer’s watches. That solves one mystery at least. Did he ever mention Lijnbaansgracht?’

  ‘I’m sorry, lad, I don’t know. I’ll ask my sister but Gerrit was very careful about what he did. He kept it secret for the Jewish families’ sakes as well as for his own. I think he mentioned running errands almost in passing as part of his general duties looking after you. As for the watches, I know he wouldn’t have given any details about you or your address, the less my sister knew the better for her. He probably mentioned it just because they were so valuable. How he knew, I don’t know.’

  ‘I think he collected the money for my father too, that’s how he would have known their value and, honest man that he was, it got to my father safely.’

  Jos broke in. ‘Your sister’s husband was a brave man, what a shame there were not more like him.’

  ‘I’m sure you did your bit too, Jos.’

  ‘Not like that, a bit of sabotage on Nazi equipment and stuff down the docks. I took part in the docks strike and did a bit of thieving to keep people warm and fed last winter, that’s all.’