Mendelevski's Box

by Roger Swindells

  ‘Please let me explain.’

  ‘I think you’d better.’

  ‘Abe and I have known each other for years. I helped him and his wife when they needed somewhere safe to spend the war. He told me about a quantity of gold in the form of coins that was for sale, the price of which was too much for him but which he regarded as a good investment for someone who could hold it until the price rose. He told me the gold was being sold by a young man called Mendelevski who was the son of a Jewish watchmaker, and straight away I knew it was you. I knew I could never have any more of your father’s wonderful watches, but I could invest in his gold. I had an amount of money I needed to dispose of, not for the same reason I bought the gold watches in the war, but so that the taxman didn’t get hold of it. This time though I couldn’t pay twice the going rate like I did for the watches, but I decided to round the figure up to 7,000. I thought old Abe had struck too hard a bargain with you.’

  ‘It’s black money then?’ Jos glared at van der Meer and Hirschfeld.

  ‘I wouldn’t exactly call it that. It’s just a few guilders I earned without broadcasting it. Surely you have done the same on occasions in the past. Bar takings are notoriously hard to calculate correctly for tax purposes, I believe.’

  Jos looked sheepish then broke out in a grin. ‘As you say, as you say. Please will you take a drink with us?’

  Simon was still concerned. He thought van der Meer had used him in some way just as he had felt he had used his father years ago.

  ‘I only wish I’d known.’

  ‘And if you had known? Would you have refused my money? It’s not stolen, you know.’

  ‘But it is in a way, from the tax people I mean.’

  Jos broke in. ’Ignore him, please, our Simon is still learning the way of the world. He’s a little too honest and innocent sometimes.’

  Simon shrugged his shoulders in acceptance and even managed a smile. ‘Then it appears that I have you to thank for both parts of my father’s legacy, thank you.’

  Hirschfeld poured himself another drink. ‘Your father wanted you to benefit from the gold, he hid it knowing that if he did not return then maybe, just maybe, you would come through it all and it would help to start your life again.’ He turned and smiled at Maaike. ‘Now you can afford to marry, perhaps?’

  Van der Meer reached across the table and picked up one of the bags. ‘Can I see what you have spent my money on, Abe?’

  He broke the seal, untied the tape and poured the contents out on the table. It was the bag with the watch cases, and he picked up one of them.

  ‘If only your father was here to make more watches to fit these cases.’

  He nodded sadly and felt Maaike reaching for his hand.

  ‘These two young people are leaving me to go to Friesland.’ Jos looked at them kindly.

  ‘That’s why I want to see you on Tuesday, I have some things I want you to do for me professionally before I go,’ said Simon.

  ‘Until Tuesday morning then.’

  Hirschfeld, van der Meer and Jos all shook hands. Joost swept up the coin bags and the three men made their way to the door.

  Hirschfeld turned and spoke. ‘Tot ziens Maaike, look after this young Jewish lad, make an honest man of him and produce lots of children.’

  They sat in silence for a few moments until Simon spoke. ‘Well, I didn’t expect that!’

  Jos nodded, ‘I see what you mean, he’s somehow too crafty, too smooth. Not the sort of man I normally rub shoulders with.’

  ‘He’s a highly rated lawyer, his life is a long way from ours, but love him or hate him he’s helped make my Simon a rich man.’

  ‘And he’s going to sort out your remaining business so you two can leave.’

  ‘On the subject of remaining business, what about Berger?’

  ‘I told you, I don’t want you confronting him. Leave it to me, I’ll sort the bastard. Sorry Maaike.’

  ‘But I wanted to challenge him I…’

  She interrupted. ‘Leave it to Jos, let him do it for you.’

  ‘Just make sure you get father’s painting.’

  ‘I will, and a confession too if I can.’

  Jos sent them home early as both of them had been in since ten.

  They sat and talked long into the night and, the coin sale being concluded, Jos dealing with Berger for him and van der Meer handling the other matters, he nervously told her his plan for their future, fearing she might not agree.

  ‘Of course I’ll go with you. I’ll go to the end of the earth if you ask me. I love you and want to be with you.’

  ‘I don’t know how we’ll get there, I still have to sort that out, and I don’t know where we’ll live but I have plenty of money. It will be totally foreign to both of us and you know I’m going to be an observant Jew again.’

  ‘I don’t care so long as we’re together.’

  It was two in the morning before he took her in his arms, kissed her and carried her into the bedroom. They undressed, each of them shy and embarrassed seeing the other naked for the first time. She looked down at her stump and then up at him, biting her lip, terrified of his reaction. She need not have worried. They lay naked on the bed, each exploring the other’s body, before they made love for the first time. Their inexperienced lovemaking was hurried and frantic, lasting only a few moments before they lay back exhausted in each other’s arms and fell asleep.

  Monday 19th November 1945

  After a wonderful start Sunday had turned sour. They had made love again and stayed in bed until lunchtime, then they’d spent the afternoon deciding what they had to take with them and Maaike had cooked a meal for Grietje and Irene when they returned.

  After the meal they had told Grietje their plans. She had become very angry and then upset that they were leaving and had said some very unpleasant things but, like on previous occasions, by breakfast time the next morning she acted as if nothing had happened.

  ‘When are you hoping to leave?’

  ‘As soon as Maaike’s Aunt Nel replies. We don’t have a lot of belongings to pack, just clothes.’

  ‘What about your jobs?’

  ‘Jos is upset of course but he understands and is pleased for us.’

  ‘So am I, it’s wonderful to see you starting a new life, and Maaike too. What is she going to do about her rooms?’

  ‘The rent’s paid until the end of the month so she’s just going to leave I think. She doesn’t own any of the furniture or anything. She and her father arrived here with nothing.’

  ‘I wonder if old Aart might want to move down, it would be easier for him, and less noisy for us,’ she laughed.

  ‘Maaike and I were concerned about who would look after Irene for you.’

  The girl looked up from her porridge. ‘I can look after myself, I’m nearly four, you know.’

  ‘She can go to the kindergarten, they’ll take her as she’s almost four and it’s not too expensive.’

  ‘Can I come and see you and Maaike? I’m going to miss you so much. Are you getting married?’

  ‘Eat your breakfast, too many questions for a little girl. I’m sorry, she’s a bit nosey.’

  ‘I’m not nosey.’

  ‘It’s alright, Grietje, we’ll miss her too.’

  He took Irene downstairs to Maaike and the three of them spent the whole day together.

  Jos walked purposefully down Nieuwe Spiegelstraat and it was a few minutes before five when he entered E.B. Antiek. The bell rang as he closed the door and Berger came through from the back room.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m closing now.’

  ‘That’s alright then, we won’t be disturbed.’ Jos locked and bolted the door, turned the sign to ‘gesloten’, pulled down the blind and approached the counter.

  Berger managed a worried smile. ‘How can I help you? I really don’t have long.’

  ‘I hope it won’t take long. I’m interested in the painting in the window, the one of the little girl in the gilt frame.’


  Berger visibly relaxed and smiled, showing his gold teeth. ‘Ah yes, meneer obviously has a good eye. It’s a lovely work in an extremely fine frame. There has been a lot of interest. Would you like to see it?’

  He reached into the window and, looking Jos up and down to judge his ability to pay, passed the painting out.

  ‘Just 300 guilders, and cheap at that.’

  Jos feigned interest in the painting. ‘It’s nice, that’s true, 300 you say? Where did you get it from?’

  ‘A lady brought it in just a few weeks ago, it’s from her family’s collection I believe.’

  ‘Really? That’s strange.’ He moved menacingly towards Berger. ‘It’s part of a pair owned by an old Jewish friend of mine. Perhaps you know him, he made watches.’

  ‘I don’t know anything about that, a woman sold it to me a couple of months ago.’ Berger looked frightened as Jos moved even closer. ‘I don’t know any Jewish watchmakers.’

  ‘Like hell you don’t.’ Jos grasped Berger’s collar and with his other hand he tore the gold watch and chain from the terrified man’s waistcoat. ‘He made this watch for you, didn’t he?’

  ‘Alright, yes, yes, a Jew did make me the watch but I didn’t get the painting from him, I swear. Please, you’re hurting me.’

  ‘How did you know the Jewish watchmaker?’

  ‘I didn’t know him at all.’

  ‘So how did you order a watch from him?’

  ‘Through my lawyer, his name is van der Meer, you can check.’

  ‘He introduced you?’

  ‘No, no. I was at van der Meer’s house when a man delivered three watches he’d had specially made. They were beautiful and I decided I wanted one.’

  ‘How did you get in touch?’

  ‘I… I don’t remember. Please, you’re frightening me.’

  ‘So bloody tell me. How did you order the watch?’

  ‘I recognised the man who brought van der Meer’s watches. I’d seen him before.’

  Jos tightened his grip. ‘Where had you seen him and how did you know about the Jew making the watches?’

  ‘I’d seen the man before, going in and out of the door to an apartment above where I store some of my stock. He never saw me, I saw him through the crack between the doors. I’d always thought the place was empty, but when I saw him taking food in and when van der Meer said the watchmaker had closed down at his business address I put two and two together.’

  ‘Meaning what?’

  ‘It was obvious, the man had to be helping and working for a Jew who was hiding upstairs making watches. I wanted a watch so…’

  ‘So what, you little bastard, what did you do?’

  ‘There was a key, it was on the ring I had with the stable key. I think de Jong who rents me the stable must own the upstairs too, and somehow I’d got a key for both. I tried it in the front door and it worked. The Jew came to the top of the stairs as I went in, he looked frightened so I knew straight away he was hiding.’

  ‘So you threatened him?’

  ‘No, not at all, I just asked if he’d make me a watch.’

  Jos pinned him to the wall and his large docker’s hand closed around Berger’s throat. ‘You lying bastard, you threatened him, tell me the truth. What did you do? Did you threaten to tell the Nazis about him?’

  ‘Please, I can’t breathe.’

  ‘So tell me, you little shit.’

  ‘He agreed to talk to me down in the stable. He said his family were upstairs. He said he’d make me a watch but he wanted a ridiculous price, the dirty Jew was trying to double or even treble what the watch was going to cost.’

  ’So you threatened him?’

  ‘I said I wouldn’t tell anyone if he made a watch for me for nothing.’

  ‘You blackmailed the poor bastard?’

  ‘He could afford it, the Jews have been getting rich on us Dutchmen for years.’

  ‘And what else did you get from him? The painting, I suppose?’

  ‘No, honestly, I bought it from a woman, I swear to you.’

  Jos punched him in the stomach. ‘You lying bastard. What else did you take from him?’

  Berger doubled up, gasping for breath. ‘Alright, alright, please don’t hurt me. I admit it, I asked him for money, 2,000 guilders. But not the painting, I swear, a scruffy looking woman came in with it.’

  ‘And he had to pay or you would report him?’

  ‘Yes, he paid, he could afford it. You know what? The dirty Jew asked me to send him an invoice for his records to show where the cash had gone, unbelievable.’

  ‘And the watch, I suppose you got it for nothing?’

  ‘Yes, he was scared, I got it for free, but would you believe it, he actually gave me an invoice. He actually thought I was going to pay him for it.’

  Jos tightened his grip on Berger’s throat. ‘And then you betrayed him.’

  ‘No, no, really, I didn’t, please let go.’ Berger started to cry. ‘Why would I do that?’

  ‘Because he refused to pay you any more money? Tell me, you fucking bastard, or by God I swear I’ll kill you.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I did, he got angry. He said I’d had enough out of him. He said he was going to tell those who were hiding him.’

  ‘So you sold them all out to the Nazis you little shit.’

  Berger begged then whimpered, terror showing in his eyes as Jos moved closer. ‘Please don’t hurt me, please, I beg you. What do you want? I have money, anything.’

  Jos put both hands around Berger’s throat and squeezed, lifting him off the floor. To his surprise Berger didn’t put up a fight. His arms hung loosely by his side, his tongue protruded hideously between the gold teeth and, after convulsing for a few moments, he went limp and Jos allowed his body to fall to the floor, out of sight behind the counter.

  Back at the Café van Loon Jos poured himself a very large jenever then he placed the watch and chain, Simon’s twenty guilder deposit, the thirty guilders betrayal reward money and the painting of the girl alongside its matching brother in Simon’s box. He couldn’t understand why Berger hadn’t fought him or even struggled. It was almost as if he had been resigned to his fate.

  ‘Is that you, Jos?’ His wife’s voice came from above. ‘What the hell are you doing down there and where have you been? Get your arse up here, I’ve got your meal ready.’

  ‘I had something I had to do for Simon, I’ll be up in a minute.’ He poured himself another drink and tried to stop himself shaking before he saw his wife.

  Tuesday 20th November 1945

  The fearsome Joke must have heard of his good fortune. He was received as a highly respected client on his arrival at Johannes Vermeerstraat, rather differently to his reception on his first visit. ‘Meneer Mendelevski, goedemorgen. How nice to see you again, please come in, he is expecting you.’

  Van der Meer was equally welcoming, if perhaps a little patronising. He felt that he might be reminded any minute where the money that he now wanted van der Meer to handle had come from. The lawyer was as polished and if possible even more professional than on their previous meetings. ‘What can I do for you? Do I understand that you wish to instruct me?’

  ‘Three things, I hope. I am leaving Amsterdam and I want you to deal with some outstanding matters for me in my absence. Firstly, these four insurance policies on my parents, my sister and myself.’

  Van der Meer put on his spectacles and quickly scanned the policies and the letters from the insurers. ‘I can try for you, but I’m afraid it is not an uncommon problem. There are many Jewish survivors, or relatives of those who did not return, who are in your situation and I fear it could take a long time and may not be worth pursuing in the end. I can’t see a way, certainly not in the short term, that any of the companies are going to pay on the life policies of those who died in the camps, without death certificates, especially when the premiums were not paid. It’s harsh but there it is, I’m being very honest with you. I can take your money but in fairness it may be better for yo
u to accept defeat and sadly I think the same will apply to your sister’s policy.’

  ‘What about the one in my name?’

  ‘As far as yours is concerned it is true that it lapsed when your father stopped paying the premiums, but it should be regarded as a ‘paid up’ policy to that date, so although it won’t pay the full amount that would be due when you turn twenty-five, there should be something to come. I will fight this one for you.’

  ‘I have these papers about our house on Dijkstraat. Dutch people have taken it over, and I don’t know if I can get it back.’ He passed the documents to van der Meer. ‘I don’t really understand them.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but it’s clear your father did not own the house. It was leased to him on a long-term lease by the City of Amsterdam so you have no real claim on it. In fact you need to be careful. I have it from an inside contact that the city council is about to start charging people for unpaid ground rents and city taxes.’

  ‘Charging taxes and rents that were unpaid because people were in the camps?’ He sounded incredulous. Jos had mentioned it to him before, but to hear it confirmed by a lawyer shocked him. ‘That’s crazy. How can they do that?’

  ‘I know, and I’m sure people will fight for years to get it reversed. It’s probably best that they simply don’t know where you are now so they can’t charge you.’

  ‘But they do know.’ He looked frightened. ‘They put my new address in Slootstraat on my central record card when I got my new ID at the Prinsenhof.’

  ‘That could be a problem, but as you are leaving Amsterdam can I suggest, and you didn’t get this idea from me, you understand, that you keep a low profile and ignore any letters from City Hall and don’t leave a forwarding address when you go. Where are you going, by the way? A long way from Amsterdam might be best.’

  ‘Friesland to start with, but after that much further away than you might imagine, and I want you to administer my bank account and do certain things for me in respect of payments here in Amsterdam. Can you still do that if I have ‘gone missing’, so to speak?’

  ‘Providing the financial arrangements you want me to make in no way involves City Hall, or if they do, are not made in your name.’