—No, no we didn’t know. We’re very sorry.
—You have a grandmother where?
—In Hamburg.
Jochen again.
—Yes, in Hamburg, but also in Hemmen. We’re going to Fulda and then it’s not far to Hemmen, as my sister says.
—You are all brothers and sisters?
—Yes.
—Where are your parents?
—They are dead.
The man points at his card in the soldier’s hand.
—You understand? Yes? This is why we have to go to Oma.
Lies pour out of his mouth. Lore’s heart races; the children are quiet, watching her. The soldiers confer. The man doesn’t look at Lore again. He has stopped talking now, but is still restless, breathing through his mouth. The rain grows heavier, rattling against the canvas of the jeep roof. Jochen warms his hands on the hot, wet metal of the hood.
The soldiers hand back the gray square of paper. One of them gets out and folds back the canvas. He motions for them to get in, and the man starts his monologue again.
—Thank you, it’s very kind of you. We are tired, you see. Come on, children.
The soldier helps Liesel out of the ditch and beckons Jüri over from the field. Lore knows the children want to get into the jeep. The man from Nuremberg is standing on tiptoe, eager that they should all climb in. He tries to catch Lore’s eye. Her arms ache with Peter’s weight. He knows where we are. And Fulda leads to Kassel and Göttingen, after which comes Hannover, which is on the way to Hamburg. And Kassel is not so far from Fulda, which is near Hannover, which is on the way to Hamburg. She doesn’t trust the man. Doesn’t want to pretend he is her brother. Lies piled on lies. Hard to keep track. The rain is heavy now. She is tired. He can’t do anything to us while the Americans are there.
Lore pushes Liesel up into the jeep and hands Peter over to her. Then she lifts Jüri under the canvas and climbs up after Jochen. The man hands her the bag and the bundle, pulls himself into the jeep and sits on the floor. The soldier ties down the canvas, and they are out of the rain, in the dark and on the move again.
The man walks ahead in the dark and the children follow. Lore carries Peter and her arms ache. Their footsteps sing on the wide, metaled road. They walk for an hour, a little longer, turn off the main road onto narrower, rougher surfaces. Lore’s boots have dried tight around her feet. They ate American chocolate in the afternoon and she has stomach pains now, can’t straighten her knees. Perhaps if we stop, he will keep walking away. She pictures the man disappearing into the dark up ahead, but feels anxious, not relieved. He looked at the American map. He knows where we are. Lore needs to lie down.
—We have to stop.
The man turns round sharply. As if he’d forgotten they were behind him. He stands and squints at Lore briefly, then he climbs off the road into the field. The children follow and stand dumb and still as the man wraps his jacket tightly around himself and lies down to sleep in the bushes. Lore sways with Peter asleep in her arms. Liesel sits down and starts to cry. She is hungry. Lore tells her to be quiet. The twins ask how soon they will get to Hamburg; will this be the last night outside? Lore tells them to be quiet, too, feels the sweat on her upper lip, in her scalp, the ache in her shoulders. She needs to lie down.
She whispers to the twins about Oma’s house again as they spread out the oilskins. The walnut trees in the garden, the curly black ironwork of the gate. Lore feels the blood rush to her head, clouding black and hot in her eyes. She can’t remember the names of Oma’s maids, only the cakes they baked. She asks Liesel to continue, but Liesel is silent, running her fingers over the patchy stubble on her head. The man lies quiet in the bushes, but Lore feels him listening, not sleeping.
Peter cries when she puts him down and won’t stop. Her arms are lead, her wrists and fingers burn; she leaves him to cry. Later, she wakes and sees Liesel cradling him next to her. She sleeps again, feels the ground beneath her: cold and uneven, a sharp pressure against her ribs.
Dawn. Lore closes her eyes against the low, white sun. The man crouches over her; black hat rim and shadowed face. He says he will walk on and get food for them. Lore’s head hurts. She keeps her lids low, says they haven’t any money. She feels Liesel turn to look at her, but her sister says nothing. The man says it will help if he takes Peter. Lore stands up, trailing blankets, takes Peter away from Liesel and lies down again. Peter cries and kicks next to her, furious and hungry. Lore watches the man leave and sleeps, heart knocking hard and sore against the walls of her chest.
When she wakes again, Peter is gone, and so are the twins. Liesel sits a few meters away, watching the road.
—It was Jochen’s idea. They took him and went to catch up with the man.
Lore stands, unsteady. The road is empty and the sun is high in the sky. The wind chills the sweat in her hair, on her back; a sharp pulse beats in her skull. She hits Liesel and Liesel pushes her away. Lore falls back and Liesel kicks at her legs, boot heels hard against her shins.
—People always give food for Peter.
—He will steal him.
—Why didn’t you give him some of Mutti’s money?
—He wouldn’t come back. He would steal it. He will take Peter now.
—The twins won’t let him.
—What can they do?
Lore screams at her sister. Liesel cries, too. Lore watches the road for a while, but has to lie down. Grass against her ears, the landscape swims.
She wakes again. And again. And they are not back. Liesel watches the road; Lore sweats and shivers under the blankets.
In the late afternoon Jochen gives her porridge wrapped in a clean rag and she eats. They have got tins of American meat, bread and jars of creamy milk. Peter has eaten and sits next to Lore and smiles. The skin on his cheeks is still red and dry. The man hammers open a tin with a stone. The twins call him Tomas. Tomas says they have found a place to stay not far away.
They pull closed the shutters in the hayloft and it is dark enough to sleep. Peter whimpers in the straw and Liesel squashes bread into a ball for him to suck. Narrow tears of light glow between the planks in the roof and fade as the pale sky darkens.
The twins share a blanket. Lore lies under another with Peter and Liesel next to her, an ache gathered hot behind her eyes. Tomas sits apart from the group near the wall. He rests his head against the beam but Lore knows he isn’t asleep. She keeps her eyes open as long as she can, to watch him. The barn jumps and flickers and she sleeps.
In the night, Tomas lights matches in his corner by the wall. Light flares briefly and Lore wakes. He is a shadow against the beams. Hands cupped round the flame, neck and shoulders rigid. He does not look around. The third time, Jüri sits up and calls for Mutti. Tomas puts out the match and lies down. They are all silent. Lore sleeps again, and a little later Tomas lights another match. The pattern continues until the sky shows light through the gaps in the planks. Lore sits up and Tomas lies down to sleep.
The sun is warm in Lore’s hair and on her arms. The headache is still there, but not so bad, and she is outside, back in charge.
Liesel doesn’t want to take off her stockings. The blisters have burst and the blood has hardened. Lore peels the black wool away from the broken skin, tearing open the sores. Liesel cries and Lore makes her soak her feet in the stream. The water softens the blood and the stockings come away more easily. Liesel’s feet are raw and her toes swollen, but Lore washes them gently in the cool water. Liesel lies on her back and holds her clean feet up to the sun. She says it will help them to heal quicker and Lore laughs.
Peter sleeps in the grass on the bank and Lore wades out into the stream. She crouches down into the shallow flow; enjoys the cold water against her dry skin; takes her clothes off underwater, rinsing the sweat and sickness out of her dress. She feels light-headed, still a little weak. Hungry. Lore looks over to the barn, the clump of trees next to it. She can see the twins, chasing each other around the barn. Tomas is in the trees,
collecting firewood. He has his back to them. Lore stands up out of the water, naked, and pulls on her wet dress, buttoning it quickly over herself, facing away from the barn. She wades back up onto the bank, hangs her underwear in the bushes and starts on the rest of the washing. Liesel crouches down next to her in the shallows.
—Tomas says it’s dangerous to talk about Hamburg.
—When did he say that?
—He told me yesterday when you were sleeping.
—What does he know about Hamburg?
—I said Mutti and Vati are in Hamburg and he said we shouldn’t tell people about Hamburg because we’re not really allowed over the border.
—What border?
—To the British zone. That’s where Hamburg is. We’re in the American zone now. And there’s a Russian zone and a French zone, too.
—I know that, stupid. You didn’t say anything about the camp, did you?
—No! I said Mutti was in Hamburg. I’m not stupid, Lore.
—Scrub a bit harder. Look, Liesel. See, it’s still dirty.
—It’s a lie, anyway. Mutti always says we shouldn’t tell lies.
—Things are different now, Liesel, that’s all. Everything’s changed.
The pain is back behind Lore’s eyes.
—But Tomas is German. Why do we have to lie to German people, too?
—We don’t know him. We just shouldn’t talk to people we don’t know.
—I know him. I think he’s nice. He’s been helping us. He got us that food when you were sick, and the barn. He says he can help us over the border, too. He said it is dangerous for us to go by ourselves.
—What does he know? Mutti wouldn’t have told us to go to Hamburg if it was dangerous, would she? It’s a silly thing to say. Get your stockings. We need to wash them, too.
Liesel walks awkwardly on the sides of her feet to protect her blisters.
—Tomas says the Russians hate us. All of the enemies hate us, and we can’t be trusted anymore, so that’s why there won’t be any Germany now, only zones. Is that true, Lore?
—I’m not listening to you anymore, Liesel, so you can be quiet now.
The glare off the water stings at Lore’s eyes.
—And he said that everyone will be punished. The men especially. Will Vati be punished?
—What did you tell him about Vati?
—Nothing.
—Anne-Liese?
—I said he was in Hamburg, with Oma. That’s what you told me.
—You didn’t say anything else?
Lore pinches the flesh on the back of her sister’s hand, and twists it hard until the skin shows blue.
—Ow! Lore! I didn’t do anything wrong. He asked me where Mutti and Vati were and so I told him about Hamburg. I said we were going to stay at Oma’s, just like you told us. I didn’t say anything else.
Lore drops Liesel’s hand, wipes the sweat out of her eyes.
—They won’t hurt Vati, will they?
—No. Of course not. Vati is safe. That’s enough now. We won’t talk about it anymore.
They wash the blood out of one stocking each and lay them out to dry.
Tomas insists that they don’t move on again until Lore is well. The children enjoy their two days of rest and swimming in the stream, but Lore is uneasy, watching Tomas all the time. Wondering what he knows about punishment. Waiting for the questions about Mutti, Oma, Hamburg, and Vati, but the questions never come. Tomas sees her watching him, nods, half smiles, and Lore can’t make out the expression in his eyes.
Shortly after dawn on the third day, when Lore is sure that Tomas is sleeping, she pulls the photos of Vati from her bag and slips out into the trees behind the barn. She digs a hole with her fingers and buries them as deeply as she can, pressing the heavy soil down firmly with her heels, and covering the spot carefully with twigs and leaves. After that, she runs around under the trees to confuse her tracks, and before she goes back to the barn, she takes care to wash her hands clean again in the stream.
Tomas is still sleeping in the corner with his back to the wall. Lore lies down again next to her brothers and her sister and pulls the blanket over her arms. She is sure that no one could find the pictures now, but still she can’t close her eyes.
They shifted direction half an hour ago, as soon as the river came into sight. They are still walking toward it, but not directly anymore. Approaching the wide water flow at an angle; walking along as well as toward; delaying the need to cross it. The grass is long and the ground uneven; they walk as if they are wading already.
About five hundred meters ahead there is a bridge. The stone pillars are still upright in the slow current, but nothing connects them: dynamited, and the remains washed away. On the other side of the river is a water-filled crater, and the road is cracked and pockmarked, too. Caterpillar tracks have ground deep gouges into the muddy banks, dried hard as rock in the hot summer weather.
They walk along the river in silence, below the line of the flood barrier, level with the water. The embankments have been damaged in the fighting, and the ground here is marshy. Water seeps in through the holes in their boots. Tomas carries the bag, Liesel carries Peter, and Lore has the bundle tied to her back. The twins walk behind her. She can hear their boots squish, marching in step with one another, in step with her.
They walk over the road, which rises steeply to the bridge. The twins run up to the top and stand at the edge, where the road stops. Twisted fingers of metal poke out of the blasted stone. The boys lie on their stomachs, heads dangling over the edge, and call down to the water. Their laughter echoes against the stone pillars. Tomas stops. He walks back toward Lore, taking Peter from Liesel as he passes. Liesel trots to keep up with him.
—If they blew this one, they’ll have blown them all. All the bridges within a day or two would be my guess.
Lore takes Peter from Tomas; the twins run down off the road.
—Shall we swim it, Tomas? We can see the bottom.
—It’s not very deep.
—You can see the bottom?
Tomas walks down to the water’s edge. Lore crouches down to ease her back, sits Peter in front of her. The river is wide. About forty meters.
—I don’t want to swim across, Lore.
—I know, Liesel.
—It’s not deep. Tell her, Lore. We saw the bottom when we were up on the road.
—I still don’t want to.
Tomas calls them down. Lore can see the bottom, but the water is at least chest deep. Over head-height for the twins. Each of the pillars has a wide base which forms a shelf about a meter below the surface. Tomas beckons Lore closer to the water.
—We can swim between the pillars, and rest on the shelves.
—It’s too deep.
—But we’ll take it in stages.
—I don’t want to, Lore.
—It’s only four meters between each pillar.
—Only four meters, easy.
—Be quiet, Jochen.
Tomas steps closer to Lore. She squares herself.
—We’ll get all our things wet.
—But it’s hot. We can dry them on the other side, build a fire, camp here for the night.
—The bags are too heavy.
Lore crouches down again, shifts the weight of the bundle across her shoulders. Tomas runs along the bank, picking up driftwood. The boys join in.
—Only the big pieces, Jüri. Bigger than that, twice the size. We will have to walk miles along the river before we find another bridge. If we do find one, it will probably be like this. We could lose a day, two days, more.
—What about a boat?
—What boat? We could lose more days waiting for a boat.
Liesel kicks the ground next to Lore, unhappily.
—How will we get Peter across, then?
—I’ll take him. We’ll tie him to me and I’ll swim with him. Easy.
—No.
Tomas ties the wood together into a frame. A handkerchief at one corne
r, his shirt at another, Jochen’s undershirt at the third. He pulls one of Liesel’s stockings out of the bag and ties off the last corner. He sets the bag in the middle and carries it down to the water. It floats. The bag sags through the middle, and it is heavier on one side than the other, but it stays on the surface. Tomas ties the end of Liesel’s other stocking to one corner.
—I can pull it like that, you see? We’ll take this bag over first, then I’ll come back and take the bundle.
Lore doesn’t look at him. She can see the road snaking off into the distance on the other side of the river.
—It will take us half an hour. We can dry our things and walk on a bit in the evening.
Lore picks at the knot holding the bundle to her back.
—Or we can stay the night.
—I’ll take Peter, not you.
—Very good.
Tomas takes off his boots and ties the laces together. He drapes them round his neck, buttons his jacket, and wades out into the water with his raft. When he is waist deep he starts swimming, holding the stocking between his teeth, pulling the bag after him to the first pillar. When he gets there, he stands up out of the water and pulls the raft over. He turns to them and waves. Water streams out of his sleeve in an arc, and the twins both laugh and wave back. They run to the water’s edge, but Lore calls them back.
—Yes, wait. I’ll go across and then I’ll come and help you.
Tomas steps off the ledge into the water again and swims to the next pillar. The boys crouch at the water’s edge, watching, tying their bootlaces together as Tomas had done. Lore squeezes Liesel’s hand and tells her to take her boots off, too.
Tomas is past the middle of the river now. Still swimming. He hasn’t looked back again, and Lore wonders absently if he will come back and help them. She calculates what is in the bag. Food and clothes. The last tin of meat. But no money, no valuables. No great loss. Tomas wades out onto the far shore, pulling the bag behind him. He doesn’t look around or wave. He walks up onto the road, out of sight. The twins both stand up and turn to look at Lore. She shrugs, makes a mental list. The tin of meat, the half loaf, three blankets, and Liesel’s coat. She still has the oilskins, two blankets, the twins’ coats, Peter’s jacket, Mutti’s brooch, the money. No food.
The Dark Room Page 10
