Mendelevski's Box

by Roger Swindells

  He smiled. ‘You’re very diplomatic. I went to Auschwitz a fit teenage boy and came back a haggard old man.’

  It was her turn to smile. ‘Nonsense, you’re a very good-looking young fellow, a pretty girl will soon snap you up, I’m sure.’

  With one question answered at least, he thanked her and prepared to leave.

  ‘Please come back if there is anything we can do to help you, I think we will be working for many years yet. Bits and pieces for your home perhaps, or simply advice. Surviving must have been extremely difficult, but I’m afraid that for many returning to normal life is proving harder. Tot ziens.’

  Back at van der Meer’s Joke again answered the door and showed him into van der Meer’s study.

  ‘Simon Mendelevski, how nice to see you again. How can I help you this time? Are you here to see me professionally?’

  ‘No, although I may need your help soon about my family house, my father’s insurance and some financial matters.’

  ‘Of course, I told you last time that if there is anything, please ask.’

  ‘I have another question about my father’s watch making business, and in particular about another of his customers I am trying to contact. Do you know an Edwin Berger by any chance?’

  ‘The antiques dealer? As it happens I do, he’s a client of mine. Why do you ask?’

  ‘I think he also bought a watch from my father and I want to ask him about it.’

  ‘Did he really? I thought he might have, but he never told me.’

  He looked puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He was here the day when your father’s employee delivered my watches, he was the client I said I was with when they arrived. I paid your father’s man and then after he had left I showed Berger the watches. Like me, he was extremely impressed with the outstanding quality. I told him I had had them specially made, and he said he too would like to have one, but I told him I thought the maker, your father, had closed his business down. He didn’t ask who had made them so I assumed it was probably no more than a passing thought on his part.’

  Suddenly a thought flashed into his mind. ‘Did he ask the man who brought the watches to you?’

  ‘No, he didn’t speak to him at all, he was just sitting in the room while I paid the man and showed him out again.’

  ‘But he saw him?’

  ‘Of course, why do you ask?’

  ‘No reason, I just wondered if that was how he got in touch with my father. Do you know how I can contact Meneer Berger?’

  Van der Meer thought for a moment. ‘It’s difficult, he’s a client, or rather he was, so I am bound by confidentiality, but our business was purely a civil matter about shop leases and it’s finished as of yesterday. I can tell you I believe he may have premises in the Spiegelstraat area, but I can’t give you his home address.’

  ‘I understand that and thank you. You’ve finished your work with him, you say?’

  ‘Yes, it was a long-running problem about a shop lease going back to 1942. I never thought it would end. I won’t be seeing him again, thank goodness. I hope when you find him that he is as proud of his watch, if he ever managed to get one, as I am of mine. And don’t forget, if you need my help or advice, don’t hesitate to contact me.’

  ‘Thank you, I will.’

  He got to Café van Loon an hour early anxious to see Jos and to explain that he now thought he knew how Berger had realised his father was a Jew in hiding and where he was.

  It was was very quiet, and Jos was behind the bar on his own when he walked in.

  ‘Simon, what are you doing here so soon? I’m glad you’re here, but it’s only three.’

  ‘I’ve just seen van der Meer and I’m convinced I know how Berger found out about us, and I also think I might be able to find him. I’ve just got to tell you.’

  ‘Calm down, you’re more and more excited every time I see you, this is twice in two days.’ He looked at the three sitting at the bar. ‘They’re alright for a moment, come on, let’s sit up there.’

  It all came tumbling out. ‘Van der Meer and Berger aren’t friends at all. Van der Meer was just acting for him professionally about the Lijnbaansgracht premises and that’s all over now. He wouldn’t tell me Berger’s home address but he said there’s a new shop somewhere on Spiegelstraat, so I’ll look for him there.’

  ‘You’re sure they won’t be speaking to each other again? He won’t tell Berger you’re asking?’

  ‘No, no, but Jos, there’s more. I think I know how Berger found us. He was in the room when Gerrit delivered the watches and father’s invoice to van der Meer and when van der Meer paid him. Van der Meer showed Berger the watches and Berger admired them and said he wanted one then van der Meer told him the maker, my father, was no longer at his business address.’

  ‘Slow down, how did that lead to Berger knowing where you were all hiding?’

  ‘Jos, don’t you see, it’s so obvious. Berger must have recognised Gerrit as the man he’d seen going in and out of the Kromme Palmstraat house when he was at his store in the stable. He probably saw Gerrit going in there with food and things when it was supposed to be an empty house and put two and two together. It all fits. He knew from van der Meer that the watches had been made by someone who had closed down his business and disappeared, so he must have guessed the watchmaker was a Jew. It’s the answer to the biggest question, how the person who betrayed us knew we were there.’

  ‘I agree it fits, it’s one possibility, but you can’t be absolutely sure, can you? Berger must have somehow communicated with your father, they exchanged invoices, don’t forget.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s how it happened, it’s the only explanation. I’ll find out when I find Berger. I’ll ask him.’

  ‘Not without me, you won’t. You’ll steer clear until we think it through.’

  ‘But Jos, I’m so close now, it’s all falling into place.’

  ‘All the more reason to take care, you can’t go challenging the man who you think sold you out to the Nazis on your own. What about van der Meer?’

  ‘I have to say I’ve changed my opinion of him. I still don’t like him, but I don’t think he was in any way involved. Him and Berger was just business, I’m sure. In fact, I think he can probably be trusted, he’s offered to help me if I need anything.’

  Jos looked concerned. ‘In what way?’

  ‘With father’s insurance, the house and stuff, possibly. The woman at the Jewish Co-ordination Council said I should get a lawyer.’

  ‘You didn’t mention the gold, I hope.’

  ‘Of course not. I’m going to look for Berger’s shop tomorrow after the delivery.’

  ‘But you don’t approach him, understand?’

  ‘Of course not,’ he lied.

  Wednesday 7th November 1945

  He slept well, so well in fact that without Grietje to wake him he was almost late for the brewery delivery. He had wanted to be early, and he had hoped the delivery driver would be too, as he had a dental appointment at twelve and was determined to find Berger’s shop and visit the registry at City Hall about a new ID card if Jos was able to spare him between the delivery and starting work again at four.

  He arrived at the bar breathless and without having eaten breakfast just as the brewery dray was pulling up.

  ‘Bloody hell, you’re cutting it fine again, that’s twice recently, what’s going on?’

  ‘Sorry, but Grietje’s away as you know and I overslept.’

  ‘Let’s get on with it, it’s a big order today.’

  ‘Do you need me after this? I have the dentist and I want to see about a new ID card.’

  ‘No, I suppose I can manage until four. You said you would need a new photograph, didn’t you? A friend of mine, Ruud, has a little studio on Rozengracht. He’ll do some photos for you and develop them in a couple of hours.’

  He laughed. ‘Thanks Jos, once again one of your contacts comes to the rescue, but he won’t take long, will he?’

&nbs
p; ‘You’ve got all day till four, what’s the rush? What else have you got to do?’

  ‘Just the dentist, but I can’t go for the ID card until I have the photographs.’ He felt guilty about not telling Jos the truth as he didn’t want him going near Berger on his own, but he knew that if he managed to find the shop he wouldn’t be able to resist.

  The delivery went smoothly and he was at the photographer’s by eleven thirty. Ruud told him he could have the photographs ready by one, which fitted in with his dentist appointment in nearby Lauriergracht.

  Complete with a very sore mouth, an appointment for yet more dental treatment and his two head and shoulders sized photographs, he made his way to the City Hall in the Prinsenhof only to find that the entire staff of the ‘Persoonsbewijs Sectie’ were all still out at lunch. Abandoning all thoughts of a new ID card until another day, he hurried over to Spiegelstraat.

  Van der Meer hadn’t specified exactly where Berger’s new shop was, so he found he had the choice of Nieuwe Spiegelstraat or Spiegelgracht. He decided to work his way down one side and back up the other, looking for Berger’s name.

  A large number of the shops were stocked with high-quality antiques and many did not even carry the owner’s or dealer’s name above the door. He had almost given up hope when, halfway back up towards Herengracht, he saw a slightly less expensive looking shop, its frontage narrower than many of the others with an untidy window full of mixed objects rather than the single Golden Age painting or large Delft pot of the more expensive businesses.

  The name above the small window announced it to be ‘E.B. Antiek’, which initially meant nothing to him, his attention being immediately drawn to a painting on a small easel in the centre of the window. In its beautiful gilt frame, he found himself looking at the portrait of the girl, the missing sister painting to the one hidden by his father in the base of the box.

  His head was spinning at the sight of the painting, made worse by the realisation that ‘E.B.Antiek’ was of course Edwin Berger and he had at last found the man he thought had betrayed his family. Forgetting Jos’s warning, he entered the shop.

  Hearing the bell, a man emerged from the back room. Simon recognised him immediately as Edwin Berger from his earlier sightings of him at Kromme Palmstraat and outside van der Meer’s house. Immaculately dressed in a crisp, freshly laundered white shirt and silk tie, waistcoat with a heavy gold watch chain visible between the two pockets and matching, beautifully pressed trousers, Berger looked him up and down, noting no doubt his old overcoat, cheap trousers and scuffed shoes.

  ‘Can I help you with anything?’ Berger almost sneered at him then, smiling, he showed his gold teeth and smoothed his moustache.

  Simon’s mouth was dry and at first he was unable to speak. Despite waiting for weeks for this moment he realised, that as Jos had warned him, he didn’t know what to say.

  Eventually he managed to ask, ‘The painting in the window, the one of the young girl. How much is it? I might be interested.’

  Berger gave him another disparaging look. ‘It’s not cheap, it’s a very well executed portrait and the frame is very fine too. I’ve only had it a month or so, a very expensive looking lady came in and sold it to me from her family’s collection.’

  ‘How much is it?’

  Berger sneered again. ‘I told you it’s expensive, a hundred and twenty guilders, but it’s a good painting in a very valuable frame. Can I suggest that you may find it a little beyond your means?’

  He was tempted to take out his wallet and pay for the painting on the spot if only to wipe the patronising look off Berger’s face. He knew he just had to have it, he had to recover it somehow from this evil man, but he quickly realised that once he had bought it he would have no reason to return to Berger’s shop.

  ‘May I see it? You bought it recently from a woman, you say?’

  Berger reached into the window and handed him the painting. ‘Yes, a very well-to-do lady came in. She said times were hard, after all the Nazis have left the country on its knees, so I paid her a hundred guilders. I’m only making twenty on the deal.’

  He examined the painting closely and was left in no doubt that it was indeed the other one of the pair that had hung on the wall above his father’s desk in Peperstraat. A glance at the back confirmed it when he saw his father’s initials ‘A.M.’ in pencil in the corner. Added to the discovery of the books in the crate in the stable, he was sure that the story of a woman selling the painting from her family collection must be a complete lie and that Berger had either obtained the painting from the Germans and police after they looted the Dijkstraat house or, more likely, from Kromme Palmstraat after his betrayal of them and their subsequent arrest.

  ‘I would like to buy it but as you say I can’t afford it today. If I give you a deposit, will you keep it for me?’

  Berger smiled and replied in a condescending voice, ‘If you think you will be able to raise the money I would be absolutely delighted to hold it for you. You are obviously a man with a good eye. Can we say twenty guilders today and the rest in a month? I’m sorry, but if you can’t pay the balance by then I reserve the right to sell it elsewhere.’

  He gave Berger twenty guilders, taking care not to let him see that he had sufficient funds in his wallet to pay the full price five times over.

  Feeling more confident, he quickly thought up a story and, in an effort to draw him out, asked Berger about two battered silver pocket watches in the window.

  ‘You like watches too?’

  ‘Not really,’ he lied. ‘My uncle collects them, only cheap silver ones of course, not gold or anything.’

  ‘I don’t suppose he can afford it but tell him to get himself a gold watch or two, a great investment, the others will never be worth anything. Those two in the window are worth virtually nothing. Do you want them?’

  ‘No, not today, but I’ll tell him they’re here.’

  Berger was patronising again. ‘Tell your uncle to save up his cents until he can afford one like this. A Jew made it for me during the war.’

  Berger reached into his waistcoat pocket with his thumb and forefinger, pulling out a gold watch, which Simon immediately recognised as identical to those made by his father for van der Meer. Proudly opening the case, Berger showed him the beautiful face of the watch.

  Simon felt the anger rising within him at the sight of an example of his father’s wonderful skills in the hands of the evil man, who he was sure had sent its maker, his wife and his daughter to their deaths. He made his excuses, promising to return with the money for the painting, and left the shop before he blurted out his real reason for being there.

  His head was spinning, his brain working overtime and he remembered little of the walk back to the Jordaan. He had no idea of the time until he walked through the doors of the Café van Loon, which was extremely busy for mid-afternoon.

  ‘Simon! There you are, half an hour early, thank goodness. Get your apron on and start collecting glasses. It’s been as busy as hell all afternoon for some reason. I could have used you here, her upstairs has been no help at all. Come on, don’t just stand there. Whatever’s the matter with you? Get working!’

  ‘I’m sorry Jos, something’s happened with Berger, I need to talk to you. I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘I’ll tell you what to do, get those bloody glasses collected and washed, bring up two crates of Heineken and then we’ll talk.’

  Without Maaike at six, and Jos’s wife refusing to come down to help, they were busy and unable to talk at any length until ten when Jos, apparently satisfied with the day’s takings, decided to close the door. They settled down at an upstairs table, Jos with his usual beer and jenever and Simon with a beer.

  ‘Now then, what the hell has been going on? I thought you were off to the dentist, the photographer’s and then the Prinsenhof about your ID.’

  ‘Well, I was, I mean I did. I went to the dentist and got the photographs but they were out to lunch at Prinsenhof, so I went to
look for Berger’s shop.’

  ‘And you found it?’

  ‘Yes, and I found him as well.’

  ‘You didn’t approach him, I hope.’

  ‘I did. I’m sorry. I know I said I wouldn’t but I saw…’

  Jos interrupted angrily, ‘You bloody fool, what did I tell you? Why on earth couldn’t you leave it just for today?’

  ‘But I saw father’s missing painting in the window. It was there, right in the middle on a little easel, the one of the girl that went with the one of the boy we found in the box. I just had to go in and try to find out about it, I’m sorry, but I just had to.’

  ‘And it was definitely him? The man we saw that day and the one you saw at that lawyer’s place?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And it was definitely your father’s painting?’

  ‘Yes, he tried to say he bought it from a woman a few weeks ago but father would never have sold it. It was obviously a lie, there was no woman, it was probably with all the other things of ours that I saw in that crate in the stable when we went in with Piet. It even had father’s initials on the back. He was trying to charge a hundred and twenty guilders for it.’

  ‘It’s strange though, why was that painting separate from the other one? Why didn’t he put both paintings in the box and how did Berger get his hands on it?’

  ‘It must have been on the wall at Kromme Palmstraat, up in the attic where father was working. I never saw it though, we weren’t allowed up there, but it’s the only possible explanation. Maybe he wanted to be able to look at it every day and he just never got around to putting it in the crate with the other one before we were arrested and the Germans got it. Either that or Berger got it from my father another way, by blackmailing him or something. I just know a woman couldn’t have walked into his shop with it, how would she have got it? He even said it was part of the woman’s family collection.’

  ‘So, what did you do about it?’