Mendelevski's Box

by Roger Swindells

  He still felt thoroughly miserable at breakfast, noticed first of all by little Irene rather than Grietje. ‘What’s the matter, Simon? You look sad.’

  ‘I’m alright, I’m just thinking about things, that’s all.’

  ‘Maaike was sad yesterday as well, she didn’t want to play with me. I think she cried so I gave her kisses.’

  Grietje sounded almost pleased. ‘You two still not talking then?’

  ‘I’m afraid not, I should have told her, it’s my fault, but I thought it was for the best.’

  ‘She’ll come around if she has any sense, you’ll just have to wait and serve your sentence.’

  ‘I hope so. I’m off to work, delivery day today. I don’t know if Jos will keep me on all day or if I’ll get a few hours off this afternoon. I’ll try and speak to Maaike then if I can, it’s no good at work.’

  ‘Go and see her now.’

  ‘No, she might not be up and dressed and I want to get in early, I have some questions for Jos.’

  The mail arrived just as he got to the bottom of the stairs. Maaike must have seen the postman passing the window and her door opened just as he was picking up the mail.

  He straightened up to see her standing in her doorway.

  ‘Is there anything for me? I thought Aunt Nel might have replied by now.’

  He looked at the envelopes. ‘Yes, there’s one from Leeuwarden.’

  He passed her the letter. She took it without a word and closed the door. The rest of the mail was for Grietje and Aart. He left it on the shelf in the hallway so they would see it when they passed and went out into the street.

  He took a slow walk to the bar.

  Jos was sitting outside with a coffee, smoking a cigar. ‘Nice morning, chilly but at least it’s fine and the sun is up there somewhere.’

  ‘Hello Jos, yes, nice day.’

  ‘Alright, so what’s the matter? What’s going on with you and Maaike? The atmosphere last night was awful, put the customers off their beer. You’ll have to keep your lovers’ tiffs away from work, I won’t have it interfering with my business. Understood?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I’ll sort it out.’

  ‘You’d better. What is it all about anyway?’

  He explained why they had argued and how they hadn’t spoken since Sunday because he had lied.

  ‘Bloody hell, is that all? If that’s the worst you’re ever going to do, you’re in for a rough life. Just look at me. Sort it out now before it gets out of hand, put your foot down and tell her you did it for her. Don’t you know anything about women?’

  ‘No, I don’t. I don’t know much about anything apart from death, hunger and loneliness. When I went to the camp I was a boy, it may have forced me to become a man, but a very bitter one. I know nothing of real life. Life outside the camp only goes up to when I was seventeen or eighteen.’

  Jos sat in silence for a moment. ‘You’re making a great job of rebuilding your life. You might be totally innocent in the ways of the real world, but you’ve been through more than we’ll ever experience. You’ve got Grietje, me and best of all Maaike, grab it with both hands, lad. Put this Berger stuff behind you. You’re tearing yourself apart. Look to the future and make sure it’s with Maaike. Right, end of speech, let’s get ready for the delivery.’

  ‘Thank you, you’re right, of course. What would I do without you? I have some things I want to discuss and ask you about.’

  ‘What? More jobs for old Jos? Only joking, we’ll talk after the delivery.’

  Jos’s wife called him upstairs, so he handled the delivery on his own, assisted by the drayman. He remembered to double check everything before he signed for it and was pleased with himself when he noticed the delivery was one case of Amstel short. It turned out to have been on the cart all the time behind the barrels for another bar. The drayman dragged it out reluctantly and rather shamefaced, handing it to him before he signed the receipt. He offered the usual beer but the driver declined, saying he was busy and behind schedule but he suspected he was too embarrassed to accept.

  Jos went into town at lunchtime for one of his mysterious business meetings, which inevitably also led to a drinking session, leaving Simon to run the bar so he didn’t get any time off in the afternoon as he had hoped. Business was slack so he coped easily and didn’t have to call on Jos’s wife for help.

  Maaike arrived early, closely followed by Jos. She settled herself on her stool and exchanged greetings with the early evening regulars. Jos, slightly the worse for drink, went straight upstairs to face his wife, casting him a glance and pointing towards Maaike as he left. He had to change a barrel, so he took refuge in the cellar for a few moments before facing her. He began hesitantly. ‘Maaike, can we talk?’

  ‘Can I go first? I’m sorry, I’ve been acting stupidly, like a little girl. I know you didn’t tell me because you didn’t want to worry me. Can we start again? I’ve hated us not being friends.’

  ‘I’m the one who needs to apologise, please let’s go back to how things were between us. This Berger business is ruining everything. I’ve made a big decision. I know it was him, but I’ll never prove it and if I could what would I do? It’s over, no more, finished. I just want to concentrate on rebuilding my life, forgetting as much as I can and starting again.’

  He leaned forward and they kissed.

  Three of the regulars at the bar applauded and they both blushed.

  ‘Stop it you lot and drink your beer. Simon, I need to know, will you still help me go to Leeuwarden?’

  ‘Of course, I was always going to help you.’

  ‘Aunt Nel says she can’t get to use a telephone. I think she’s a bit afraid of using one, but she’s written to say her sons, my cousins, will be at Zwolle station on Monday at three when the Amersfoort train arrives. Can you go with me to Amersfoort and put me on the Zwolle train?’

  ‘I’ll go as far as Zwolle with you if you want, just in case they’re not there.’

  ‘They’ll be there, I’m sure. If Aunt Nel has said so it’ll happen. They’ve checked what time the train arrives so there’s no need to get in touch again. We just need to work out the times from here to Amersfoort to catch the train that gets to Zwolle at three.’

  ‘Thank you, I’m glad we’re friends again.’

  ‘So am I, and Jos will be too, he told me off this morning. He said we were spoiling trade. Well, he hinted at it.’ He indicated the men at the bar. ‘These four seem pleased we made up anyway.’

  Jos came down at seven thirty and, unusually, told them to take a break for an hour. Whether he felt guilty about leaving Simon on his own all day or whether he thought he was helping their relationship they didn’t ask, but gratefully took him at his word and went out into the dimly lit street. The recent change of clocks had brought the darkness forward.

  They sat on their bench by the canal, watching the reflection of the lights on the water.

  ‘I hated it when you weren’t talking to me.’

  ‘So did I, I was being very silly. But tell me what happened when you went to the stable?’

  He told her all about his Sunday morning adventure and finding some of his and his family’s possessions in the crates.

  ‘How awful for you, I’m sorry we didn’t talk about it on Sunday, you must have been so upset.’

  ‘There were lots of things from other Jewish homes, much more than there was from ours. Furniture and many religious items too, there were even unopened crates—who knows what’s in them. Berger was obviously working with the Germans or at the very least dealing with them. There was nothing to indicate where he is living or trading from so that’s it, it’s over. No more heartache. Jos is selling the gold for me. I’ll keep father’s tools and stamps, at least for now. I’ll have one more try with the insurance company and the house if I can get professional advice, and then it’s all over. Life starts again from then.’

  She snuggled up close to him and he put his arm around her.

  ‘Does that new
start include me?’

  ‘It certainly does. I have plans, big plans and dreams, and I hope you’ll want to join me in them.’

  ‘What plans? What dreams? Do tell me Simon.’

  ‘Not yet Maaike, not yet, it’s just a crazy idea at the moment. I’ll tell you when.’

  She playfully smacked his thigh. ‘That’s awful! Don’t tease me.’

  He changed the subject. ‘I’ll go to Centraal tomorrow and check those train times.’

  They went back to work to find the bar absolutely packed, so much so that both Jos and his wife were behind the bar. She looked her usual angry self.

  ‘Ah, there you are. Get yourselves back to work right now, I don’t know what the old fool was doing giving you time off halfway through the evening. What we pay you for I really don’t know.’

  Jos smirked and his wife stormed off upstairs. Simon put on his apron and Maaike hopped to her stool.

  ‘You two lovebirds look happier, all sorted?’

  Maaike smiled at Jos. ‘Yes, thank you, all sorted. Now where on earth have all these customers come from?’

  ‘It’s some wedding anniversary party, they ran out of booze at home I’m pleased to say. Could be a late night, you’ll be glad I gave you a break.’

  Jos was right. It was after midnight before he finally bolted the door behind the last of the revellers, a couple who had just returned from the East Indies after years of internment as civilians under the Japanese. Totally unconnected with the anniversary group, they had come in for a quiet drink and had been swept along with the celebrations and free drinks from Jos when he had learned what they had been through. ‘Poor sods, starved by the Japs for years and now there’s a bloody civil war so they can’t even live in their home anymore. They’d been out there for twenty years, he was in rubber. Now they’ve got nothing and if this independence thing goes through I suspect they’ll never go back.’

  ‘At least I have father’s box.’

  ‘That reminds me. Pour some drinks while we clear up. Maaike, you stay there, we’ll do it, and then I need to talk to you about your father’s gold.’

  He and Jos wiped the tables and counter and emptied the ashtrays while Maaike washed the glasses behind the bar.

  ‘That’ll do for tonight, it’s late. I’ll mop the floor in the morning. Let’s sit down, I have some news for you about your gold.’

  ‘You saw someone?’

  ‘Yes, not the man who’s buying but a contact of his. The man himself, the buyer, sent a message that he wanted to see us at his place tomorrow, but I said I wasn’t keen on you and me carrying all that gold across town to an area we don’t know.’

  ‘So, what’s happening?’

  ‘He’s coming here before opening tomorrow. He’ll have someone with him but there’ll be two of us so it should be alright.’

  ‘Isn’t it a bit risky, him knowing the gold is here?’

  ‘I don’t think so, my contact vouches for him. He’s one hundred percent reputable allegedly, and anyway we won’t let him see where we keep it. He’ll weigh it and work out a price but the rate per gram changes so we may not be able to finalise it tomorrow. I don’t expect he’ll have all the money with him just like I didn’t want us to take the gold to him. Also, I’ll need to verify the current price with an independent source. I know someone who knows the weights and the prices but he doesn’t buy, not in this quantity at least.’

  ‘How will we do the deal?’

  ‘I’m not sure, we’ll have to see what we think of him and he of us. One of us is going to have to transport money and gold across the city eventually. Let’s meet him first and let him examine the goods here under our control.’ He laughed. ‘I suppose it depends on whose bodyguard is the biggest.’

  ‘Who’s my bodyguard?’

  ‘You’re looking at him.’

  ‘Do you know who the buyer is?’

  ‘I’ve never met him, and I don’t know his name, but I do know he’s one of your lot.’

  ‘A Jew?’

  ‘Yes, another survivor like you.’

  ‘What time is he coming?’

  ‘I didn’t think we’d be so late tonight so I said nine, that gives us two hours before we open. We won’t be able to dash into negotiations, we’ll have to offer drink and talk first. Is that alright with you?’

  ‘I’ll be here.’

  Simon and Maaike took their normal route back to Slootstraat without stopping at their bench in view of the lateness of the hour.

  ‘You’re quiet, aren’t you excited about selling the gold? I’m sure it’s going to be worth a lot of money.’

  ‘Yes, of course I am, but it’s yet another connection to my father that’s being severed. In this case I’m cashing in on what he thought would be our family’s investment for after the war. He put it away so we could rebuild our lives and not be in poverty.’

  ‘And that’s exactly what’s happening. Those coins are your inheritance, a legacy he left for you and you’re using it just as he would have wanted, to rebuild your life.’

  ‘But it was meant for all of us, father, mother and Esther, not just me.’

  Thursday 1st November 1945

  Jos took the bags of coins and the watch cases out of the hiding place in the cellar before the buyer arrived and put them behind the bar.

  ‘I don’t want them to know that we keep them in the cellar. I think my secret place in the floor is quite safe but there is no point in risking it.’

  The door rattled at exactly nine and Jos went to unlock it while Simon stayed sitting at the table facing the door. Two men entered, each vastly different to the other. Jos locked the doors again behind them and drew the heavy leather curtain, which ran on a curved rail, across the doors.

  The man he took to be the buyer was at least seventy if not eighty years old. Bent and shuffling he sported a long straggly goatee beard, a black velvet yarmulke on his thinning grey hair and a threadbare and stained black knee-length jacket. He carried a small leather case.

  His companion was totally different. He was clearly Dutch, at least two metres tall, unshaven, barrel chested with close cropped blond hair and dressed in a smart blue suit.

  Jos offered his hand. ‘Goedemorgen gentlemen, I’m Jos van Loon, please sit down. This is Simon, he’s the owner of the goods you have come to see. I’ll bring coffee and anything else you want to drink.’

  The big Dutchman spoke. ‘Just coffee for us, please.’

  The old man spoke at last. ‘Shalom.’

  Instinctively he replied, ‘A gutn tog, Shalom Aleichem.’

  A look of surprise crossed the man’s face. ‘Aleichem Shalom. You’re a Jew?’

  ‘Yes, meneer, I am.’

  ‘I’m Abraham Hirschfeld, but please call me Abe.’

  He felt the ice was already broken.

  Jos arrived with the coffee and they settled down to talk.

  ‘You survived Simon. Did you hide?’

  ‘We did, but they found us. We were in a camp, I survived but my family were killed. What about you?’

  ‘I hid from 1941. I was in a farmhouse near Nieuwlande in Drenthe. The whole place was full of Jews, all over the village and the surrounding countryside. I was very lucky, my wife Miriam and her brother and I, we all survived. The Canadians came in April and we were back in Amsterdam in early May.’

  ‘We were betrayed. I am the only survivor.’

  ‘I understand you have gold you wish to sell. Can I ask how you still have it? Our people who were sent to the camps lost everything. All the gold the Nazis found was sent to Berlin.’

  ‘My father put it in a box and hid it where we were in hiding. The Germans and the police didn’t find it and a Dutchman who was helping us rescued it.’

  ‘And he kept it safe for you?’ Hirschfeld sounded incredulous. ‘You got it back when you returned?’

  He felt the old man was checking him and his story out.

  ‘A relative of his kept it, they had promised my father it wou
ld be kept safe for our return. The box was still locked and what I want to sell was hidden in the bottom.’

  Jos spoke up. ‘I’ll get the items, shall I? Then you can see for yourself. Simon, lay that cloth on the table, please.’

  He spread a clean drying cloth out on the table between them and Jos placed the wooden box containing the watch cases and the two cloth bags of coins in the centre. ‘I’ll speak for Simon if I may, Abe, I’ve been helping him since he found the things his father left behind.’ Jos reached for one of the bags. ‘What would you like to see first. I presume you want to make a close examination?’

  The old Jew grabbed his arm. ‘Wait a moment please, let me look at the bags before you open them.’

  Simon looked at Jos then at Hirschfeld with a puzzled then worried look on his face. ‘Is there a problem? They are just as they came from my father’s hiding place.’

  Hirschfeld picked up each bag, seemingly oblivious to the weight of the gold each held. He took out a magnifying glass and, holding both bag and glass close to his rheumy right eye, closely examined each one in turn before returning them to the table.

  ‘These were your father’s, you say?’

  ‘Yes, meneer.’

  ‘What was his profession?’

  ‘He was a watchmaker, some say the best in Amsterdam.’

  ‘Where was his workshop?’

  ‘Peperstraat.’

  ‘And which shul did he attend?’

  ‘Father was a reader, a baal keriah, at the shul on Nieuwe Uilenburgerstraat, it was the nearest one to our home.’

  Hirschfeld smiled, showing a single tooth. Seemingly satisfied he held out an almost skeletal hand. ‘Simon, Simon Mendelevski, I am honoured to meet you. Your father was a fine and much respected man, I was proud to know him, and I am proud to know you too. I am sad to hear of his death, so many friends and acquaintances have gone.’

  Simon looked confused. ‘Thank you, but how do you know who I am?’

  ‘The coin bags and, I assume, their contents. I sold gold coins to your father five years before the war and then again when the Germans came. Look, the bags have my mark, if you look closely you can just see it. Your father had closed the business and sold many of his things. He didn’t want to put the proceeds into that Nazi bank. He was already investing in gold coins, but when the war started he wanted to change all his guilders into gold. He thought they would be worthless if the Germans introduced the Reichsmark. It was good business for me, I admit it.’ He smiled and rubbed his hands together. ‘Especially as I also knew where I could get rid of the guilders again and buy more gold.’