by Pierre Frei
'Be an usherette, I hope.' She laughed. 'I always wanted to be something in the movies.'
The Pension Wolke was in Windscheidstrasse, on the first floor of an apartment building, and looked neat and tidy. In addition, it was a good base for job-seeking at the cinemas of western Berlin.
Frau Wolke introduced Marlene to the other lodgers, beginning with the girl in the room next to hers, who was about her own age and another blonde. Otherwise they were different in almost every way. Henriette von Aichborn wore simple, practical clothes and not a trace of make-up, and had a friendly if slightly distant way of addressing people.
Not like a posh aristocrat with a von in her name at all. Marlene soon took to her. 'Like to come to the pictures?' she asked. 'I'm thinking of applying for an usherette's job at the UfA Palace, and I'd like to see the new film with Willy Fritsch.'
'That's very kind of you, but I'm expecting a visitor.'
'If you'd make do with me ... ?' Herr Kohler adjusted his monocle. He had the room across the passage, and Marlene did not care for his manner. She was a good judge of men.
'No, thank you,' she politely turned him down.
On Monday she applied to the Marmor Haus cinema and the UfA Film Theatre, on Tuesday to the Astor and the Kurbel. No one needed an usherette. She considered her situation over a cup of coffee on the terrace of the Cafe Schilling. Perhaps it would be better to leave Berlin. Even if Fredie wasn't looking for her, she might still run into him. Involuntarily, she turned round. There was only an old gentleman reading the paper behind her.
She postponed her decision. Berlin was still Berlin, everywhere else was the provinces. But the real reason for her hesitation was called Franz Giese. Better a modest future than none, she thought. And Frau Giese doesn't sound so bad. She pushed aside the thought of facing Fredie and asking him for a divorce. 'It will all work out,' she comforted herself.
She had seen a pair of white sandals that she couldn't resist in the window of the Salamander show store. That evening she lay on her bed in her dressing gown, painting her toenails. She had cotton wool between her toes. 'Come in,' she called cheerfully, when someone knocked.
It was Fraulein von Aichborn. 'I hope I'm not disturbing you?' She looked at Marlene's artwork with interest. Obviously she hadn't seen it done before.
'Looks good with bare legs. Bright red is just the thing for blondes. Like to try?'
Another time I'd love to.' Her fellow lodger came straight to the point. A friend of mine has invited me to spend the weekend on the Havel in his motorboat. I'd like to take a friend along to play gooseberry. Would you care to come?'
Marlene Kaschke was absolutely delighted. A motorboat on the Havel? You bet I'll come. And I've just bought a fabulous sky-blue Bleyle too! The latest style, with a little skirt and a low-cut back. You can get them in all colours at Leineweber's.'
'Your name is Marion, if you don't mind, and you're an old friend of mine. You must call me Detta.'
'If that's all, you're welcome.'
'See you Saturday, then. I'll get my convertible out of the garage, and knock on your door at seven-thirty.'
'Us two lovelies in an open car? This gets better and better.' Marlene went on painting her nails.
She tried further afield on Friday. There were some cinemas in Steglitz and Zehlendorf. The Onkel Tom cinema was last on her list. 'One of our girls got married. We're looking for a replacement; the manager told her. 'But it's Herr Star, the owner, who makes the decisions. Come back on Monday.' He let her watch the documentary, the newsreel and a film with Hans Albers for free. On the way home she bought some fruit and took a couple of magazines up to her room with her. Her landlady knocked on her door at around nine. 'Visitor for you, Fraulein Kaschke.'
It was Fredie. 'I'll help you pack,' he offered with a winning smile. 'Thank you very much, Frau Wolke.' He closed the door.
Marlene tried to stay calm. 'How did you get here?'
'I found the note with your Herr Giese's address under the table. Rather incautious of you, my love. Herr Giese was not very forthcoming at first and wouldn't tell me where to find you. He was more talkative down in the chat room. Hurry up, will you?'
'I'm not coming with you. Even if you kill me.'
'Who said anything about killing you? I need a wife who is alive, and plays her part willingly and convincingly. My career depends on it.'
'I couldn't care less about your career.'
'Or your Herr Giese either?'
'What's going to happen to Franz?'
'Very soon nothing will ever happen to him again, if you don't play along. We've taken him in. As I said before, he was willing to give us the information after a while.'
'Where is he?'
'In Prinz-Albrecht-Strasse. Want to see him?' She nodded in silence. He closed her suitcase. Down below, a black limousine was waiting with an SS man at the wheel and a man in a leather coat in the front beside him. Fredie helped her into the car and put the suitcase in.
She saw Franz Giese through a peephole in the cellar door. Her heart constricted. They had tied him to a post. His shirt was in tatters, his face disfigured by blows. The SS man in front of him raised a hissing blowtorch.
'Franz ...' Her voice was toneless.
'That Socialist would confess to being Stalin's father-in-law if we wanted. They all talk in the chat room. So how about it?'
'Let him go. I'll stay with you.'
'Very sensible, my dear.' Fredie opened the door a crack and called, 'Take him home. The case is closed.' The SS man untied Giese and helped him into his jacket.
On the way home Fredie was kindness itself. 'I've put champagne on ice. And we have a few delicate little canapes to go with it. I'm so glad you're coming back to me.' It was grotesque.
'So what are we celebrating?' she asked without interest.
'I'll tell you when we get home.'
Three-quarters of an hour later they had reached the Kleiner Wannsee. The men saluted. 'Good evening, ma'am. Heil Hitler, Herr Obersturm- bannfiihrer.'
'Do I congratulate you on yet another promotion?'
Fredie poured champagne. Among other things. Cheers.' Elated, he raised his glass. 'They've appointed Noack head of the Berlin Gestapo. He's shown himself grateful for certain operations I've carried out for him. I'm being made commandant of Blumenau. Orders from on high: the commandant must be happily married.'
'Happily married,' she repeated, remembering Franz Giese's clumsy declaration of love. She would never see him again, and then they would leave him in peace. His injured face would heal. It would smile for another woman some day. The haulage business would flourish. There'd be children. 'Back to the same old round,' she said sadly.
'What do you mean?'
'I mean I'll go along with you. You'll be satisfied. And if anything should happen to Franz Giese I'll make such a shocking scandal that your career will be ruined.'
'You know something? I actually believe you.'
Marlene sipped from her glass. 'Blumenau, did you say? Never heard of it.'
The Mercedes drove through the tall gates. Bronze swastikas were worked into the wrought-iron grille of the gate, and beds of begonias in lines that could have been drawn with a ruler bordered the drive. They drew up on the white gravel outside the house, which had a red, twin-gabled roof and welcoming green shutters. Over the door, picked out in marguerite daisies, were the words: WELCOME TO BLUMENAU.
Fredie helped Marlene out of the car. He was wearing his new dove-grey uniform with the insignia of an SS Security Service Obersturmbannfiihrer. A girl in a striped dress and apron was waiting on the steps, holding a bunch of tulips. She had spiky black hair and kept her eyes lowered.
'This is your housemaid Jana,' Fredie introduced her. 'If you need more domestic staff, let me know. I don't want the housekeeping to be a burden on you.'
He had been acting in a very civilized way these last few days. It was probably to do with his new post. If only this goes on, she thought hopefully. Jana he
ld the flowers out to her. 'Thank you, how nice.' She took the bouquet. 'I'm sure you know where we can find a vase.' She used the polite Sie pronoun to address the girl.
'Jana is nineteen and used to being called du,' her husband corrected her. 'I have to go for a meeting in the office building now. It's over there.' He pointed to the tall, impenetrable yew hedge and a grey, corrugated-iron roof just above it. 'Jana will show you the house. We are expecting a few of my staff to dinner this evening. Don't worry, the girl can cook.' He moved quickly away over the crunching gravel.
'Shall we go in, Jana?' The driver had put her cases in the yellow-tiled hall. 'Show me the kitchen first.'
'Yes, Frau Obersturmbannf.ihrer.' Jana stumbled over the pronunciation of the long title.
'You just forget about all that!' Marlene told her firmly. 'I'm Frau Neubert, right?'
'Yes, Frau Ober ... Frau Neubert.'
'Good. Now for the kitchen.'
'Yes, Frau Neubert.'
Blue and white tiles on the floor and walls, a black, cast-iron coalburning stove with shiny brass fittings, a large fridge made of white wood and lined with zinc. It had a nickel-plated tap at the front to drain off the melted ice water. A pantry beside the cellar steps.
The dining room next to it and the living room contained the familiar, pale-wood furniture from the Kleiner Wannsee house. Upstairs there were three bedrooms and two bathrooms. From up here you had a view of old fruit trees and a neatly raked lawn. A wall covered with climbing roses divided the garden from the road. It was a spacious and idyllic property.
'1 think I shall like this place. Have you been here long, Jana?'
'One year five months.'
And before that?'
'Everywhere.' Jana couldn't be induced to say more.
Marlene's neighbour at table was a thin man in his mid-thirties with dark hair and, despite careful shaving, a trace of five o'clock shadow. 'Our medicine man, Sturmbannfiihrer Dr Alwin Engel.' Fredie had introduced him. Marlene found him interesting, because he talked about literature. He had read Erwin Kastner, which gave her an opportunity to show off her own knowledge. 'His children's books are little masterpieces. More for adults really, don't you agree?'
Engel didn't seem to have heard her. He was watching Jana as she brought in the starter: smoked herring fillets on lettuce, with grated horseradish. He took hold of the girl's chin and turned her face to him as she served him. 'What pretty black eyes you have,' he said, smiling. Jana vanished into the kitchen. 'Purely professional interest,' he said apologetically.
Marlene was understanding. 'Jana is a pretty girl, though not very communicative, I'm afraid. I asked where she'd been before, and couldn't get anything out of her except "Everywhere".'
Engel smiled. 'Well, of course Jana has been everywhere, up hill and down dale with her people in their caravan. My dear lady, the girl's a gypsy, didn't you know?' Jana served the main course. Engel raised a piece of meat from the platter with his fork and examined it critically from all sides. 'I do hope you haven't palmed us off with roast hedgehog.' Everyone laughed.
'No, Herr Sturmbannfuhrer.'
'This is roast duck from our own farm. Like the vegetables and the cream for the sauce. We are self-sufficient here, Dr Engel,' a tall woman of around forty answered him. She had penetrating blue eyes and heavy fair hair worn in a chignon, and she alone hadn't joined in the merriment.
Marlene had noted down the names of the guests on her napkin, so she knew that this woman, seated opposite her, was Gertrud Werner. Frau Werner had high cheekbones and regular features, very much in line with the new Germanic ideal of womanhood. She was wearing a long, dark-blue velvet dress with a white collar fastened high at the neck, and her healthy complexion showed that she spent a good deal of time out of doors. She had glanced disapprovingly at her hostess's fashionable make-up and modish Berlin outfit. Marlene instinctively disliked the woman, but she didn't show it. 'You really must show me round, dear Frau Werner. Perhaps I can even help a little on the farm?' she asked, feigning interest.
'My women do that themselves,' said Gertrud Werner coolly.
'Now, don't be stern with our city girl, Frau Hauptsturmfdhrerin; said Dr Noack, smoothing things over. So Frau Werner held SS rank in her own right. Noack had arrived only a few minutes earlier from Berlin, with a large bouquet of tea roses for Marlene and a bottle of cognac for Fredie.
'I'd be happy to show you round, Frau Neubert,' the guest to her right offered.
Marlene consulted her napkin. 'That's very kind of you, Herr Schafer.'
'Nothing here works without Oberscharfahrer Schafer. He's our real boss.' announced Fredie good-humouredly, eliciting an awkward grin from the heavy-set man with bristly grey hair.
'Don't let his better half hear that,' the young man next to Frau Werner joked.
'Untersturmfdhrer Siebert runs our laboratory,' Fredie told his wife. Marlene's head was swimming with all these elaborate ranks and titles; the napkin was no help there. 'Siebert is a bachelor and very popular with the girls.'
'How interesting.'
'That I'm a bachelor or that I run the laboratory?' Siebert winked at her.
As a happily married woman, I mean the latter. What delicious things do you brew up in your witches' kitchen, Herr Siebert?'
'We're doing research work.'
The telephone rang. Fredie picked it up and listened briefly. 'Doctor, it's Raab. His circulation is going crazy.'
Engel leaped to his feet. 'I'll see to him at once.'
'Don't let anything go wrong,' Noack told him. 'Reichsfiihrer Himmler takes a personal interest in him.'
The doctor returned during the dessert course. 'His circulation has stabilized. Would you excuse me, ladies and gentleman? I have to be up quite early tomorrow.'
'Time we all went our separate ways,' Noack said. 'Thank you very much, dear Frau Marlene, a delicious meal. It deserves a special reward.' She knew what he meant.
Fredie and Noack were waiting for her in the drawing room. Fredie seized her and took her on the floor, while Noack watched avidly. Then Fredie forced her down between his mentor's knees.
Years earlier, just once, she had said it out loud. Now she repeated it over and over in her mind. One of these days I'll kill you, Fredie.
Her husband had already left by the time Marlene woke. She took a bath and dressed. Jana was waiting for her in the kitchen with steaming white coffee and fresh croissants. The sun filtered through the leaves of the fruit trees, casting bright patterns on the table. The world was all right again.
'Sit down, have a coffee with me. Would you like a croissant?' The girl shook her head vigorously, making her short black hair fly. 'Oh well, if you don't want to ... You've been here eighteen months, you said? Wouldn't you rather be with your family?'
That silent shake of the head again, a gesture that might mean no, or denote fear or incomprehension. Marlene couldn't make the girl out. Perhaps gypsies just reacted differently from normal people. Although gypsies were really normal people too - only a little different from normal people.
'Is there a basket around?' She shook off these complicated thoughts. 'We'll go and ask Frau Werner for some vegetables. I'm sure you'll know where we can find her.'
Jana found a large basket in the larder. They went from the kitchen to the garden, and crossed the forecourt to the yew hedge. A green tunnel led through it to a corrugated iron door at the far end. Jana pulled the bell beside the door. It clanged, and a flap in the door was raised. 'Open up for the Frau Commandant.' Jana obviously enjoyed giving an order.
The guard let the flap drop into place and opened the door. 'Sorry, Frau Obersturmbannfuhrer, didn't recognize you.'
'Look, I don't want to be called Frau Commandant or Frau Obersturmbannfiihrer. I'm Marlene Neubert. Would you please repeat that?'
'Certainly, Frau Neubert.' The guard went a few steps with them.
She pointed to the low, wooden building at the end of a well-tended gravel path. 'Is that where my
husband works?'
'Yes, Frau Neubert, that's the office building.'
Jana bent over the rose bed at the entrance and smelled a flower. 'Pretty roses.'
'You like roses?'
'Yes, I like them very much.'
Marlene turned a few leaves over. 'Greenfly. The bushes need spraying. Soap solution would do it.' She'd learned that from the woman next door to them at the Kleiner Wannsee house.
'I'll tell the trustee.' The guard went back to his post.
'We'll visit my husband later - let's go and find those vegetables. Come on, Jana.' The gravel crunched under their feet. Are your parents around here somewhere?'
Jana put the basket down. 'Mama over in women's camp. Papa at fence, wanted talk Mama a little, like used to. Frau Hauptsturmfiihrerin see. Call Oberscharfiihrer. Oberscharfiihrer come with big stick.'
'What, that nice Herr Schafer? He surely didn't ... ?'
'Did,' was the laconic answer.
'I expect he lost his temper for a moment. As far as I know the supervisory staff aren't allowed to use violence. Your father should complain.'
'Oberscharfiihrer hit Papa with big stick till Papa dead,' was the matterof-fact reply.
Marlene felt paralysed. It took her a long, long time to react. 'It must have been an accident. I'm sure Herr Schafer didn't mean to hit so hard,' she said, trying to retrieve her view of the world as it ought to be. 'What about your mother?'
'Mama seven days in cellar with rats. When she come out, three toes gone.'
'Three toes?' Marlene was horrified.
'First you not want sleep. Then you must sleep. Rats wait till you sleep.' The gypsy girl picked the basket up again. Marlene followed her - and froze. Ahead of her, a tall barbed-wire fence clawed its way up to the sky. The wooden watchtowers at its four corners seemed to have been borrowed from a chess set for giants. A guard with a dog was on duty at the gate. Huts of a dirty grey hue lay beyond it, in rows of five. Not even weeds grew on the perfectly straight clinker paths between them.
