Night Sky

by Clare Francis

  He got off at the end of Tiergartenstrasse and walked. In the park he could see a group of Jungvolk training for their initiation into the Hitler Youth. Some were running the compulsory sixty metres, others jumping the 2.75 metre long jump. Another group were sitting in a circle chanting the Schwertworte, the short version of the Nazi dogma which had to be learnt by heart. The children looked so sweet, sitting there in the sun in their neat uniforms, that David stopped to watch them for a moment.

  As he neared the embassies he pulled his raincoat on. It wasn’t raining but he wanted to hide the star stitched onto his jacket. They might stop him otherwise; they might prevent him from going in.

  The first embassy was just visible through a thick screen of trees, an imposing white mansion set back from the road behind metal railings. David was fairly sure it was the United States Embassy. Perhaps he should try there first: in the last ten years the country had taken a lot of Jews in. Yet at the same time it was neutral – perhaps they wouldn’t be interested in trading his information.

  David strode on, still undecided. Suddenly he stopped and frowned. There was a group of people on the pavement, standing quietly, waiting. Between them and the gates of the mansion were stormtroopers. The troopers were facing the people, weapons held ready across their chests.

  David walked slowly up. It was definitely the United States Embassy. The waiting people were Jewish. No-one was being allowed in. He asked one of the waiting men: no-one had been allowed in for weeks.

  It was the same outside the French Embassy, and the British. Except that there were fewer people waiting.

  He thought: I’m so stupid; of course they’re not going to let people in. Of course!

  The telephone, he should have used the telephone. He walked rapidly throught the streets until he found a post office. He went up to the counter and asked for a booth. The girl behind the counter was young and quite pretty. She glanced up and then stared at him hard. David thought: There’s going to be trouble; she’s going to make trouble. The girl blinked then asked, loudly and deliberately, for his identity papers. The other counter staff fell silent; people looked. David felt in his jacket pocket and passed over his papers. Quickly, he pulled open his raincoat: it was a serious offence to hide the star on his jacket. The girl looked at him triumphantly and said, ‘Non-Aryans are not permitted to use the telephones here.’

  It was a new restriction David had never heard of. In fact he was certain that no such restriction existed. But there could be no argument: that was one thing he’d learnt during the last week.

  They watched him as he turned and walked into the street. He heard the girl laughing as he closed the door, and the heat of humiliation burnt his cheeks. He shrank into the porch and leant against the cold stone. The tiredness hit him like a hammer. He hadn’t slept properly for three days and now he felt sick with fatigue.

  He looked at the time: it was nearly six. The embassy staff would have shut their offices by now anyway. It was too late to do anything more today. Another day gone and nothing achieved.

  He thought: I’m tired, just tired.

  He went to the station and took the train home. As he walked towards his house he passed the little shoe shop and looked in the window. The posters marked ‘Jew!’ had long since disappeared. Now there was one small notice discreetly placed among the shoes on display. It read: Under new management. David wondered what had happened to Finstein. No-one bothered to ask about their neighbours any more; it was better not to know.

  When he came round the bend in the road the sight of the small cosy house no longer thrilled David. Instead it reminded him of his family and his responsibilities. He wanted to protect his family, to provide and care for them. If a man couldn’t do that then he wasn’t worth much.

  As he opened the door he wondered if Ellen would be crying again. She had been crying almost continuously since he had lost his job. He couldn’t blame her, of course; she had every reason to cry.

  He called a hello and waited for Cecile to come bounding into the hall and give him a hug as she always did.

  There was silence and he called again.

  The kitchen door opened and Cecile came out. She was sobbing into a handkerchief. She didn’t run up to him but hovered miserably by the door, shaking her head from side to side. ‘Oh Daddy, Daddy!’

  David stepped forward, his arms outstretched. ‘My little rabbit, whatever is the matter?’ Cecile had never cried before, not like this. She was usually so brave, so fearless.

  Ellen appeared in the doorway behind her. ‘It was no good, I suppose? You haven’t got the papers?’

  He shook his head. ‘They wanted … too much.’

  Ellen said firmly, ‘Go upstairs, Cecile. I want to talk to your father.’

  Cecile gave a sob and ran past him up the stairs. David looked at Ellen in bewilderment. She beckoned him into the living room.

  ‘David, I have something to tell you.’ She paused and started fiddling with a china dog on the mantelpiece. Eventually she said, ‘Cecile and I are going away. I’ve been talking to my father and we’ve agreed that it’s the only way.’

  David looked at her blankly. ‘What do you mean?’

  Ellen took a breath and turned to face him. ‘We want the best for Cecile, don’t we? Well, there’s only one way to be sure she doesn’t suffer. And that’s to get right away. I’m sorry, David, but I think it will be better if we …’ She licked her lips nervously, ‘… if we live apart.’

  ‘Live apart?’

  ‘Yes, Cecile and I are going away, to a new place.’

  ‘A new place? But … it’ll be so difficult for Cecile … settling into a new school. And … at least everyone knows us here, accepts us …’

  ‘Accepts us? Are you mad? Don’t you realise what it’s been like for me? And for Cecile? You have no idea what she’s been through at school. They all know about you, they all know that Cecile is partly Jewish. They all taunt her, do you hear me, they taunt her!’ Ellen was spitting at him, her eyes blazing.

  David sank into a chair and murmured, ‘Oh God, oh God.’

  ‘I told you it was happening, but as usual you had your head in the clouds, where it always is. I told you last November when … when … those awful things happened, but you wouldn’t listen!’

  She was referring to Crystal Night, a major pogrom against the Jews; many synagogues, shops and flats had been destroyed.

  David shook his head. ‘But wherever you move to they’ll still know. You’ll still be my wife and you can’t hide that.’

  Ellen drew a deep breath. ‘I am going to divorce you, David. I’m going to take a new name and make a fresh start. For Cecile, it’s for Cecile. You must see … how important it is, for her sake.’

  David was dumbfounded.

  She couldn’t be doing this to him. The idea of losing his little rabbit was almost more than he could bear. They sat in silence for a while. Then a terrible thought came into his mind. He trembled as he asked, ‘When? When are you going?’

  ‘Tonight. My father’s coming to collect us in the car.’

  David felt as if a vice were tightening around his heart. He gasped, ‘Oh no, oh no. Not yet, please not yet.’ Then he remembered the telephone call and how he would sell his invention. He looked up and said brightly, ‘You mustn’t go, not yet. I forgot to tell you. I’ve got to make a telephone call in the morning. There’s a really good chance we’ll get papers. Really! The best chance yet! I’ll go to the post office first thing in the morning.’

  Ellen moved impatiently towards the door. ‘David, these schemes of yours …’ She shook her head. ‘Anyway, I don’t want to live abroad. I want to stay here with my family.’

  David cried bitterly, ‘I’m your family too, remember!’

  But she had gone.

  Oh God! He tried to think, he tried to make himself think, but it was no good, he was just too tired. Hopelessness and despair overwhelmed him.

  Dear Lord, what have I done? What have I
done?

  After a while he climbed the stairs to Cecile’s room. He found her lying on the bed, crying silently. He went to her and touched her arm. She reached out to him and together they sat on the edge of the bed, their arms around each other, rocking gently.

  David thought: Everything I want is here, my family, my daughter. Is it so very much to ask? What did I do that they should take it away from me?

  Finally, after a long time, he said, ‘My little rabbit, it’s for the best, you know, your mother is right. You will be safer with a new name and a new place to live.’ She started crying again and he said, ‘I want you to be very brave. I want you to go away and to make a success of your life. And to forget about me.’

  ‘I couldn’t, Daddy, I couldn’t.’

  ‘But you must. I’m going to go abroad. I can’t be a proper father to you when I’m away.’

  ‘But you’ll always be my Daddy.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I’ll always be your Daddy.’ David hugged her tightly and wept quietly.

  Then there were sounds from below and, without a word, Ellen came and took Cecile downstairs. David couldn’t bring himself to watch them go. Instead he sat on Cecile’s bed and put his head in his hands.

  The silence pressed in on him and, when he couldn’t bear it any longer, he lay down and put his arms over his head. Finally he fell asleep and dreamed that Cecile was dead.

  When David woke it was dawn and he was very cold. For a while he lay on the bed watching the thin, grey light illuminate the toys and gay pictures that decorated the neat, feminine room. The room looked cold and unused, as if Cecile had been gone a long time.

  He sat up. His head ached viciously. Lack of sleep and food.

  Mechanically, he got up and went into the bathroom to wash. In the main bedroom he found a clean shirt and his best suit, and put them on.

  He went downstairs. The house was deathly quiet. Normally Cecile would be chattering away in the kitchen while Ellen made the breakfast. He decided to turn the wireless on as soon as he got into the kitchen.

  But first he went into the dining room and, reaching up to the top of the dresser, felt for the black canister. As his fingers closed over it he felt a thrill of excitement. So much in such a small container!

  But small though it was, it was still too large. It would be impossible to hide on his body. Any good search would soon discover it under his arm, or strapped to his leg. He opened the canister and took out the roll of film. It was only half an inch high and an eighth of an inch in diameter.

  He went into the kitchen and found a piece of greaseproof paper. He cut an oblong strip and rolled it round the film, then tied the ends with cotton.

  David was pleased. It was small enough now to be hidden in his mouth. Or even in other places where people wouldn’t look. Well, hopefully not.

  Getting the film developed had been the most difficult part. The local photographic shop had been out of the question; they would have reported him straight away. There was a man at Gema whose hobby was developing and printing his own photographs, but it would have been far too dangerous to contact him. Then David remembered the processing laboratory which the Gema Company used for all its photographic work, and he went there. He went there straight away, before the laboratory knew he had been dismissed. He went there while he was still angry and had the nerve to ask them to process the film and transfer it onto the smallest possible negative. He said it was top secret, and they mustn’t talk about it. His own daring had amazed him.

  It was the strangeness of the request which made the laboratory carry out the work without question. The technicians were called in from the processing lab and everyone was so engrossed in deciding how the reduction could be done they didn’t stop to query it. They didn’t even notice the sweat on David’s brow or the way his hands shook as he passed over the film.

  Now David held the tiny packet in his hand and wondered where he should hide it for the moment. Best to be on the safe side. He took some surgical tape from the first aid box in the bathroom and stuck the roll on to the under side of his upper arm. It was not very satisfactory – if they were actually looking for a roll of film they would find it straight away – but it would have to do.

  He found some bratwurst and black bread in the kitchen. There was a spoonful of coffee in a jar; he put it in a strainer and poured hot water over it. It tasted foul. He sat at the kitchen table and looked out at the small, neat garden. In the summer they always spent Sunday afternoons there, just the three of them. David turned on the wireless. The set was a new Volksempfanger People’s Receiver; he had bought it as a present for Ellen’s birthday.

  David listened half-heartedly, thinking of Cecile. The announcements were always the same nowadays. People were exhorted to greater service and sacrifice for the Fatherland; they must unite against the enemies of Germany; the young men must be ready to serve in the cause of the Fatherland. Today the enemy seemed to be Poland who were even at this moment threatening the very security of the beloved Homeland. Poland? It had been Czechoslovakia for so long that David couldn’t get used to all this talk about Poland. But perhaps Poland had been the enemy for some time; he hadn’t been listening to the wireless very much recently.

  The announcer turned to home news: today another great step had been taken in the eradication of the common enemy! The filthy Jews would no longer be permitted wireless sets. No longer would they be permitted to enjoy the fruits of their thieving and usury! Millions of honest, working Germans would now be free to listen in peace, in the knowledge that not a single conniving Jew was listening to their beloved programmes!

  David froze with a piece of bread halfway to his mouth, and felt vaguely sick. He should have realised that this campaign was much, much worse than the ones before. And now it was almost too late. But not quite.

  He washed up the breakfast things and went into the hall. It was eight-thirty. He looked at the telephone which stood on a small table beside the stairs. The embassy offices would be staffed by now; he should call as soon as possible. And yet – not from here. The operator might have instructions to report all calls made to embassies; she might listen in; they might listen in. No, he would go to the post office; that would be safer.

  At the post office there was a queue for the telephones. David waited quietly. He did not mind waiting. The important thing was not to attract attention or get in anyone’s way. At one point a large woman came bustling in and, seeing the line of people, sighed loudly. Without a word David stood back and let her take his place. She started to say something but, seeing the star on his jacket, tightened her lips and turned away.

  Eventually there was only one person ahead of him and no-one behind. David eyed the girl at the desk nervously. She looked all right but you could never tell. When his turn came she glanced up quickly and, without comment, directed him to a booth.

  So far, so good.

  He gave the operator the number of the British Embassy and waited, swallowing nervously. He hadn’t really thought of what he would say. It was so difficult to know when you didn’t even know who you’d be speaking to.

  There were several loud clicks on the line and a woman’s voice said in German, ‘British Embassy.’

  ‘Hello. I wish to speak to …’ He thought: Who? ‘… to the attaché who deals with scientific matters.’

  There was another click. A man’s voice said, ‘Yes?’

  ‘I am a scientist,’ David began lamely. ‘I wish to emigrate. I—’

  The voice interrupted, ‘The immigration section of this embassy has closed. We are not dealing with any new applications.’

  ‘But you don’t understand, I … I have special information.’ David hated to say such a thing over the telephone but he had the feeling the man would soon ring off.

  ‘Who are you?’

  David paused unhappily. ‘I’d rather not say … it’s too risky. Can’t I meet someone? Or come to the embassy?’

  ‘One moment please.’

  Davi
d waited uneasily. He hadn’t thought about the problems of making contact. It was horribly dangerous …

  The voice said, ‘It is regretted, but we cannot be of assistance.’

  David felt his heart lurch. ‘What do you mean? I have vital information, of great value!’

  ‘We regret but, in view of the gravity of the international situation, it is impossible for us to become involved.’

  David stared at the wall of the booth, the receiver forgotten in his hand.

  The voice spoke again. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Yes.’

  There was a pause as if the owner of the voice was considering what to say. ‘We are not alone. Do you understand what I mean?’

  ‘Yes.’ David understood. The conversation was being listened to.

  He replaced the receiver, and tried to think. He was confused; the certain knowledge that they were listening had been a shock. He hadn’t been ready for that. He must think again.

  Perhaps the Swedes? Yes, the good neutral Swedes. He found the number in the directory and gave it to the operator.

  After a few seconds there was a reply. David was about to speak when there were two loud clicks. David froze, then slowly replaced the receiver.

  He paid for the calls and left the post office.

  He had to think: he had to think.

  He walked into the street, his head down, his mind working. One thing was clear, absolutely clear: to try to contact an embassy would be suicide. He would never get near them. If he arranged a meeting the Gestapo would be there first. If he tried to deliver a message they would intercept it.

  It was awful to give up the idea – but there was no choice. What else could he do?

  What did that leave? He thought desperately, but there wasn’t much. Only escape. Escape without papers, without help … He shook his head and strode on, head down, carefully avoiding other pedestrians.

  The black jackboots were right in front of him before he saw them. He tried to step sideways but a second pair of boots blocked his way. David looked up and felt a stab of fear. Two young SS men were facing him; they were both smiling. David stepped quickly against the wall and tried to slide along it. The young men laughed and shouted. He felt a sharp blow on his head. He knew he had to run. They were coming for him again. He gathered his strength and made for a new gap between a uniformed body and the wall. He pushed through the gap, felt a blow on his shoulder, pushed again, and was through.