“War?”
“Oh yes,” Paul nodded his head as if in confirmation, “there will be one, mark my words. Eventually the world will realise what Hitler is up to, but, until they do, the Nazis try to keep the lid on what is actually happening in Germany.”
“So you think the Gestapo opened this parcel before it reached the Meyers?”
“Almost certainly. And when they saw what it contained they decided to set a trap.”
“They took Leah,” Kurt said slowly, “and told Leo that he must tell them immediately if I turned up.”
“It would seem that way.”
“But what would have happened if I hadn’t turned up?” wondered Kurt.
Paul shrugged. “They would probably have held on to her and used Leo as a spy in other ways.”
“Leo said she was away when I asked,” mused Kurt. “That must be the line he’s had to use.”
“He would be no use to the Gestapo if everyone knew that they were holding her hostage. Leo has to have credibility or people won’t tell him anything he can pass on. I doubt if you are the only one he has betrayed.”
“I’d probably do the same if they were holding Ruth,” admitted Kurt.
“Would you? Well, one never knows until one is in that position, so it’s not fair to judge. However, I am in the happy, or unhappy position, of having no one they can hold hostage. If they come for me it’s only I who will suffer.”
Kurt tore the brown paper wrapping from the packet and saw that it did indeed contain his passport… and to his delight a letter written in Ruth’s strong, upright hand.
“Leave it till I’ve gone,” said Paul. “You’ll want to read that when you’re alone. Now, I suggest you stay here for the night. You should be safe and warm. I’ll go home as usual, and come back in the morning with some more food and some different clothes for you. You’re quite right, they will know about the boiler suit now.” The old man got up and checked the curtains were covering the windows and no crack of light would shine through. “Keep the stove alight,” he said, “there’s plenty of wood. I’ll be back to open the shop in the morning.” He showed Kurt the lavatory, with basin and toilet, and then putting on his overcoat went to the door.
“I’ll lock you in,” he said. “Try and get some sleep.”
As soon as he was alone, Kurt ripped off the last of the brown paper and took out the letter from Ruth. It was written on thick, stiff notepaper, her sister’s address and telephone number printed in heavy dark type in the top right-hand corner:
My darling Kurt,
I don’t know if you will ever get this letter. I have hesitated to send it to the Meyers as I know Leah was very worried that the post was no longer private and asked me not to write to her again. However, I’ve had to take the risk. You need the enclosed. We are all safely at Edith’s now, Mother included. I won’t go into all that has happened to us, but should tell you that the price of our being allowed to leave Germany was the title deeds to the shop and apartment. Perhaps I shouldn’t have handed them over, as they were not mine, but it seemed a small price to pay for our children’s safety… their lives even. Things had been making life impossible both in Munich and Vohldorf, and so I did what I thought necessary.
Dearest Kurt, I have no idea where you are. Maybe you’re still in prison somewhere, but if you do get this letter please come to us. The enclosed should make it easier for you to leave Germany and join us here.
Obviously we cannot stay with Edith and David indefinitely, so we shall find a home of our own in the next few days, for Mother, me and the children. They are all well, you’ll be glad to hear, and constantly ask when you are coming back. I tell them soon. I just hope and pray that I am right.
Whatever happens, my dearest love, I shall be listening for your step, watching for your face at the window. Go with G-d.
Your Ruth
Kurt brought the letter up to his lips, closing his eyes and drawing a deep breath in an effort to conjure Ruth from the paper on which she had written. Tears of relief slipped down his cheeks. They were safe! They’d had to leave Germany, but they were safe in Vienna, a city where the Nazi writ did not run. He kissed her name at the bottom of the page and then read the letter through again. His wonderful Ruth had not only saved the children, but had found a way of getting his passport to him, so that he could try and reach them.
Then he thought of the Meyers. They had taken his family in when their home had burned down, they had done their best to help, as good neighbours should, and now, because Ruth had written to him at their address, they were in the hands of the Gestapo. Kurt’s euphoria at having received Ruth’s letter evaporated as he thought of the price that had been paid for him to be free. The letter had explained so much; why the shop and apartment were already being restored. She had given the deeds away already. Oberführer Loritz would never get his hands on the property now, which made Kurt’s own position even more perilous. The Oberführer would find someone else in possession of the property he had thought would be his, and his fury at being tricked would know no bounds. He would hunt Kurt like a fox, and when he found him he would slam him back into the hell of Dachau and throw away the key. Kurt would be worked until he dropped dead like poor Rudy Stein. In the meantime, with no property and no money, he had nothing else to bargain with should the need arise, and Kurt thought, it probably will!
Leo and Leah Meyer had lost their freedom, but, as a result, he, Kurt, was still free. He must escape; he must ensure that their unwilling sacrifice had not been for nothing. He had a fleeting vision of Leo sitting in the back of the Gestapo car, pale and terrified. Where had they taken him? To Dachau? And Leah? Where had they taken her? Where did they take women prisoners? Kurt didn’t want to imagine, but he knew the thought of the elderly couple who had lost everything, including each other, because they had been good neighbours, would haunt him forever.
He picked up the letter again and looked at the address so boldly inscribed at the top. At least he knew how to contact Ruth now, he thought, as he memorised both the address and the telephone number. He could telephone Edith’s house and ask for her, and he would hear her voice. Paul Schiller had a telephone in his shop, perhaps he could ring from there. Kurt pictured Ruth’s face when she heard his voice on the phone at last, and it was all he could do to stop himself from creeping back into the shop to find the telephone tucked away under the counter and place the call… now, that very minute. He fought the temptation. In the morning, he would ask Paul if he might use it.
Kurt folded the letter carefully and put it into his pocket, then he stoked up the stove and made himself as comfortable as he could on the sofa and settled down for the night. Certainly warmer than last night, he thought. And despite the perils and fears of the day, he soon drifted into a deep and dreamless sleep, not stirring until the winter sun had risen to cast its light on the grey streets beyond the window.
Paul Schiller arrived early to open the shop. He carried a small case and a paper bag with him, and these he handed to Kurt. “Breakfast,” he said, nodding at the paper bag, “and clothes in there,” he indicated the case. “They should fit you all right… my son Günter’s. He was about your size.” He turned away abruptly, saying as he left the room, “Get changed, and then stay in the back here. I’ll come back at midday. I must be in my shop all morning, or it will be noticed.”
Kurt vaguely remembered Günter, a boy of about his own age, studious and solitary, and interested in different things. They had never been close at school. Where was he now, Kurt wondered? Paul had said ‘was’. Was he dead then?
Kurt opened the suitcase and pulled out winter underclothes, a shirt, jacket and trousers. There was a pair of woollen socks and a sturdy pair of boots. He quickly removed the boiler suit and the clothes he’d been wearing for the last week and went into the lavatory. The water was cold, but Kurt didn’t care. Standing naked beside the little basin, he scrubbed himself from head to foot, the cold of the water making him gasp as he plung
ed his head to wash his hair. At last he felt clean and he towelled himself vigorously to restore his circulation. He dressed quickly in the clothes Paul had brought, enjoying the clean cloth against his skin, and then turned his attention to the paper bag. There was some bread and an apple. Kurt set the kettle to boil and made himself a cup of coffee to drink with his breakfast.
At midday Paul Schiller closed the shop and came through to the back room. He nodded approvingly at the sight of Kurt, sitting warmly dressed on the sofa.
“You look very respectable,” he said with a faint smile. “Not at all like a man on the run. Now,” he went on, waving away Kurt’s thanks, “I have to go out. I’ll go to the station and buy you a ticket for tonight’s train to Hamburg…”
“Hamburg!” exclaimed Kurt, “I don’t want to go to Hamburg…”
“No one said you had to,” Paul said calmly, “but if there is someone keeping an eye out for you, they may not see you get on the Hamburg train. You do have to leave this town as soon as you can. Anyone might recognise you and report you to the Gestapo. And you can be sure they will be watching the trains to Vienna.”
“Why… ?” began Kurt.
“My dear boy! Don’t forget, they’ve read your wife’s letter. They know where she is. You have her address now, but so does the Gestapo. They will be watching for you to board the Vienna train.”
Kurt hadn’t thought about the Gestapo reading the letter, only about them finding the passport. He felt a chill run through him; now they knew where Ruth and the children were.
Kurt asked Paul if he might use the telephone in the shop to phone Ruth, but the little jeweller shook his head, horrified.
“Definitely not!” he said. “Who knows who is listening in at the exchange? The call could well be reported and immediately traced back here. You must wait until you can get to a public telephone, and then keep your call extremely short.”
Kurt thought guiltily of how close he had come to using the telephone last night. Even though he knew Paul was right, Kurt longed to ring Edith’s number, to hear Ruth’s voice just once, to tell her that he was on his way.
Kurt dozed by the stove as the afternoon dragged by, but at last the early evening darkness fell, Paul Schiller closed the shop for the day and came through to the back room.
“There’s a lot of activity out in the streets,” he told Kurt as he made them more coffee. “Perhaps it would be better if you waited here for another few days.”
“No!” Kurt was adamant. “Every moment I’m here in your shop puts you in greater danger. Enough people have suffered because of me and my family. I’ll go tonight. I’ll take the train to Hamburg as you suggest, and then somewhere along the way, I’ll get off and head for the Austrian border.”
“Are you sure that is the best thing for you to do?” Paul asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Going to find them in Austria. Is that really the best thing to do?”
Kurt stared at him. “What else should I do?” he demanded. “I’ve got to get to my family. They need me.”
“Kurt, I understand that’s what you want to do,” Paul said, “but just think for a moment or two, is it what you ought to do?”
“Why ever not?”
“Well,” Paul said slowly, “I’ve been thinking about this all day, and it seems to me that the most help you can be to your family is to get right out of the country…”
“But that’s what I’m planning to do,” Kurt broke in. “Get out of the country, into Austria.”
Paul waved his hand in acknowledgement. “I know, I know, but you have to look at the overall situation. Have you considered that if Hitler has his way, Austria very soon won’t be ‘out of the country’?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” said Paul patiently, “that Hitler is set on annexing Austria. He has the power to do it and he will. Sometime in the next couple of months, maybe much sooner, Austria will become a province of Germany. The Nazis will rule and German laws will prevail. If you’re in Austria with your family, you’ll be just as badly off as you were before. You’ll have jumped out of the frying pan into the fire… and it will be some fire, believe me.”
“Then I should be with Ruth and the children,” returned Kurt. “If what you say is going to happen does happen, then I should be there, with them.”
“Where you will be arrested again, and of no use to them at all.”
“But I can’t just save myself and leave them there!” Kurt was almost shouting now. “I can’t just walk away! I have to be there to help them, to be with them.”
“I think,” began Paul and held up his hand to cut off Kurt’s interruption, “I think that you could do far more for them if you were safely in England, or Holland or France. In those countries you could arrange to get them out of Austria.”
“How?” Kurt snapped. “How could I do that?”
“I’ve heard there are Jewish societies and groups in London and other places who are helping Jews to escape from the Nazis. Sending money, arranging sponsors, finding jobs. Remember, you were going to be allowed to leave once the Nazi colonel had his hands on your property. Jews are being allowed to leave, at a price. You have nothing to offer here anymore, so, now you should go to England and ask for help.”
“Why would the English help me?”
“Why wouldn’t they? There are English Jews who are doing their best to bring their fellow Jews out of Germany, and I think I am right when I say that soon it will be out of Austria too.” Paul reached over and placed a hand on Kurt’s arm. “If you go to Austria now, you will be trapped, too. You can do more for your family as a free man… in a free country.”
Kurt stared blankly at the stove, his mind in turmoil. How could he possibly save himself and leave the rest of them to their fate?
“Kurt, it is your decision. Yours and yours alone.” Paul spoke gently: “Whatever you decide, I will do all I can to help you. All I am asking you to do is to consider your options, and to remember that if the Gestapo are looking for you anywhere, it will be trying to cross into Austria. They, too, know that’s where you want to go.” Paul sighed. “They call us Jews subhuman, but they recognise the very humanity in us that makes us love our families above all else and they use that knowledge to their advantage and our destruction. Threaten a man’s son, and you have the man.”
Kurt looked across at him and said softly, “Paul, I don’t know what to do, but I thank you from the bottom of my heart for all you have done for me. I will consider what you say, but whatever I finally decide, I must leave here now.” He got to his feet, and taking off his watch again, tried to hand it to Paul, but the little jeweller waved it away.
“Keep it, Kurt. It was your father’s, and it may yet provide for you if necessary.”
“But I must have some money,” protested Kurt. “And that’s all I have to sell.”
“Then keep it to sell another day,” replied Paul, and, reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a brown envelope and passed it to Kurt.
Kurt looked at it uncertainly. “What’s this?”
Paul shrugged. “You said you need money. It’s money.”
Kurt looked into the envelope and his eyes widened. “But I can’t take all this!” he exclaimed dropping the envelope on the table.
“Of course you can,” replied Paul. “Your father and I were friends, Kurt… and I have no one else who needs that money now. My Günter died in the ’flu epidemic last year. There’s no one to have my money when I die… except the Nazis, and I’d rather they didn’t.” He gave a bleak smile. “I have something else for you,” he said, and reaching again into his inside pocket, he produced a document, which he handed to Kurt. “Günter used to travel for me quite a lot. He often went to Amsterdam or London to buy stones for our business. This is his passport, I thought it might prove useful.”
Kurt took the passport and opened it, staring at the photograph inside. “It doesn’t look much like me,” he said doubtfully.
“He had a beard for a start!”
Paul smiled. “So he did,” he agreed. “But beards can be shaved off… or re-grown. You have the same dark hair, and are roughly the same age. I just thought there might come a time when it would be useful to have some papers in another name.” As Kurt continued to stare at the picture, Paul went on, “It’s still valid. No ordinary border guard will know that he’s dead. It might get you through… wherever you decide to go. Take this, too. Learn the names and addresses and then destroy it.” He handed Kurt a slip of paper. Kurt looked at it and saw two names and addresses written on it in Paul’s neat script; one in Hamburg, the other in London.
“Two men I do business with,” Paul said. “They both knew Günter, they may be able to help you.” He sighed. “Who can tell in these dreadful times?”
“Come with me!” Kurt said suddenly. “Come with me, we could travel together.”
The jeweller shook his head. “No,” he said, “I’m too old to start running; too old to start another life somewhere else. I’ll be all right here. They can see there’s no harm in me… I’m too old for one of their labour camps.” He picked up the envelope and thrust it at Kurt again. “Take it, Kurt, and use it to save yourself and your family. Go to America if you can, we shan’t see the end of these Nazis in Europe for a long time to come. Take the money, Kurt, and the passport, so that I can meet my maker knowing that I did something that made a difference.”
The Runaway Family Page 19
