by Holly Müller
The room wasn’t staffed. The windows were open as normal and the temperature icy. The children were still sleeping, not a blanket amongst them, some lying only in pants and vest, their skin blotched pink and bluish purple. Schosi saw what he thought was his friend’s hair against one of the pillows but realised the person was much too tall. He searched for a sign of the drooling girl he’d seen on his last visit, but couldn’t see her. Perhaps she’d recovered and gone back to join the other girls in the dormitory. He walked around and looked into each face – they were all very thin and pale, their eyes sealed in the deepest sleep, crusts dried along their lashes, no flicker behind the delicate skin – some boys, some girls, some that were almost babies, some teenagers, some who were pretty and fair, others who were malformed and ugly, one with a lip that split and melted into the base of his nose. They wheezed and grunted as though struggling to draw air. Moritz was peering into a caged bed in the corner. The wire was so low over the occupant that there was no space to sit up.
‘Hansi?’ he whispered.
It was the tall boy from their dormitory. He lay on his side wearing only long johns, his graceful hands folded beneath his cheek. On his chin was a dark bruise and his arms and legs were scored with dreadful cuts. Moritz called him one more time but there was no response.
Schosi found Aldo asleep, just like the other children, and without any blanket. He didn’t look like himself. His face when Schosi touched it was cold as snow. He remembered when he’d come here and the nurse had gone to the tall wooden cupboard. Perhaps there were more towels in there that he could use to cover his friend. He went to the cupboard and pulled the doors open while Moritz watched. Inside were piles of sheets and the white towels that had made Schosi’s nappy. There were also grey blankets. Plenty of them – enough for all the children. He took one to Aldo, tucked it around him, doubled it beneath his chin. He looked a lot warmer, a lot better. Schosi stroked Aldo’s hair then went to fetch another blanket – Moritz followed suit. They went to the nearest beds and spread them over the sleeping children; they returned to the wardrobe, grabbed more blankets and continued around the room. But there was no way of opening the cage to help the leader boy. Moritz began to cry bitterly, making tear tracks in the dried blood on his cheek. Schosi felt sick; he tried to catch his breath but the room was so silent and terrible that he couldn’t and his chest wheezed and constricted.
The door handle turned and a hefty nurse strode into the room. She stopped in her tracks and stared at Schosi and Moritz as though they’d risen from the dead.
‘What are you doing here?’ Her eyes bulged and her thick neck flushed red.
Terror wakened in Schosi’s bowels. He and Moritz stood with blankets draped across their arms, not moving.
‘Don’t you dare ignore me!’ Her voice was shrill. ‘Disobedient brats!’ She dashed across the dormitory. ‘Come here!’
She caught them easily, their legs having turned to water, and grasped each of them by the collar. She dragged them from the freezing room into the scribbled corridor. She marched along with the two boys stumbling at her sides, deliberately unbalancing them with shakes of her muscled arms. When they reached the office, she thrust the door open with her foot and flung them inside.
Sister Kuster and another nurse whom Schosi didn’t recognise looked up. Chalk-faced Sister Franz was gone.
‘Look what I found in dorm thirteen.’
‘Oh Lord! There they are!’ exclaimed Sister Kuster. ‘We’ve been searching for them everywhere. The gardening staff have been looking in the grounds.’ She lowered her voice slightly and spoke to the nurse seated beside her. ‘He’s an idiot.’ She nodded towards Schosi. ‘And the other most likely led him astray – he’s in the asocial bracket.’ She stood. Her eyes rested on Schosi and Moritz. ‘Gracious, you two! What are you playing at? And what’s the matter with your face?’
‘We got lost, Sister,’ said Moritz meekly. ‘We went into the wrong dormitory.’
‘Huh,’ grunted the nurse who’d discovered them. ‘They were getting blankets out of the cupboard.’
There was a moment of silence. Sister Kuster’s eyes flickered from the boys to the floor and back to the older nurse who’d spoken. Then the hefty nurse clouted Schosi hard across the ear. ‘You have broken the rules!’ she rapped out, seeming even more furious than before. She hit Moritz next, a darting, accurate strike, her lips clamped fiercely inwards, her chin bunching. Moritz shielded his face with his arm.
‘I’ll take care of these,’ said Sister Kuster. She quickly herded the boys towards the door. ‘Back to the dormitory this instant!’
Do your job properly,’ said the nurse. ‘Don’t lose them again. Remember you’re on probation – you haven’t passed yet.’
‘Yes, Sister, of course.’ Sister Kuster lowered her eyes. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘The quality of nurses these days,’ the nurse muttered. ‘They’re not what they used to be.’
Sister Kuster chastised Schosi and Moritz all the way to the dormitory and pinched their ears, because, she said, she’d been made to look bad. Now she’d be forced to tell the Matron about their behaviour, who would tell Dr Heinrich Klein and it was his morning inspection tomorrow, so on your heads be it.
‘Please don’t tell the doctor,’ cried Moritz. ‘Please!’ He tugged frantically on the sleeve of the young nurse. ‘Please! Oh God! Please don’t. Please!’ His eyes shone wet and wide, and his face had drained of colour. Schosi watched his friend, alarmed.
‘I’ve no choice,’ she snapped. ‘It’s your own fault.’
When they reached the dormitory she instructed them to get ready for exercises in the big hall. They both looked so shaken and cheerless she appeared troubled herself for an instant – her mouth drooped at the corners. She hesitated before hurrying away.
22
Dr Heinrich Klein was standing close to the bottom of the bed. The man was tall and stooped, wearing the brown Nazi uniform that Schosi had been taught to fear above all things. On seeing the red armband Schosi recoiled and hid his face in the bedclothes. The man spoke.
‘Good morning, children.’ His voice was reedy and dry.
Schosi peeped over the edge of his blanket. The doctor was gazing around the room, a genial smile on his lips. He began to slowly patrol, moving away. Schosi sat up, along with the other boys. His body was sluggish and slow to respond. He was very hungry. He hadn’t had enough to eat for many days and weakness was beginning to take hold, seeping into his muscles. Although he felt tired he daren’t disobey the whistle, and the nurse kept her eye on everyone, commanding them silently to put on a good show for the visiting doctor. He climbed out of bed and stood at the foot of it. He raised his chin and screwed his eyes closed, hoping to be passed over. Dr Klein spoke to Moritz.
‘I hear you’ve been breaking the rules. Again.’
Moritz kept his eyes to the front like a soldier. His hands were rigid and straight at his sides, as though being as neat as possible might avert his inevitable punishment. The cut on his face was now a dark scab.
‘Well? Have you?’
Moritz stared speechlessly for a moment then nodded.
‘And you?’ said the doctor turning to Schosi. ‘Hillier Schosi, yes? From Felddorf. You’ve also been naughty.’ Schosi flushed. ‘Hmm,’ said Dr Klein. He turned to the nurse and said languidly, ‘Take them out of here for a while – they can be of use – and teach them a lesson.’
The nurse nodded, thin-lipped. The doctor took a sweetie from his uniform pocket, which he placed in Schosi’s palm. He gave one to Moritz also. Moritz stared at the treat and began to cry, though he wiped his tears away quickly. Schosi wondered why his friend had cried. He couldn’t wait to eat the silver-wrapped treat and was full of relief.
‘Try to behave,’ said the doctor. A sudden cough racked him and his hand flew to cover his mouth. When he regained his breath, he unfolded a handkerchief from his breast pocket and smoothly deposited the contents of his mouth into t
he hanky, before returning it to his trouser pocket. Schosi thought of Herr Esterbauer who rather than using a hanky merely spat over his shoulder, or placed a stubby finger to his nostril and cleared the other with a hard blast of outward air. Schosi’s mama always shook her head and said ‘Only a farmer’. But Schosi thought the doctor was more revolting because he was secret and sly.
Dr Klein didn’t stay long. He left after speaking with several of the other boys and giving sweets to them. The boys with sweets gobbled them immediately (‘It’s a toffee!’ said one, his cheek bulging). The sweet, syrupy taste filled Schosi with pleasure. But Moritz didn’t unwrap his. After a short while two nurses appeared in the doorway.
‘Weber Moritz – Hillier Schosi,’ said a hawk-faced woman with hair tightly scraped beneath her cap. ‘Come.’ She gestured with her clipboard. ‘Doctor’s orders.’
Schosi and Moritz were joined by the other boys who’d been given sweets and the whole group were then led from the room. Schosi’s stomach growled and wrenched painfully; the mouthful of toffee had only made him more ravenous. He cast a look back at Paulin who watched them go, arms hanging, toes turned inwards, his expression grave.
The morning of the meeting with Dr Klein, Ursula woke early. She couldn’t eat much of the breakfast brought by Frau Petschka. She dressed in her most presentable skirt, blouse and cardigan. She cleaned her shoes with a damp cloth. She decided against her ribbons. It would make her look too girlish. After brushing her teeth she went to wait on the landing. The door to Herr Esterbauer’s room was ajar; she could see him standing at the sink wearing his long dark coat and leaning close to the mirror; he combed his moustache and stared at his reflection. When he emerged, his hat sharply creased and wearing a fine-looking scarf, he stopped and frowned at Ursula. Before he could speak she scampered downstairs, deliberate in her display of agile youth, calling, ‘I’ll be nothing but good!’ She wouldn’t stay behind at the apartment. It wouldn’t do. She’d go mad.
‘Impossible!’ shouted the farmer, his voice ringing in the stone stairwell. ‘Damn it all!’
Outside, she crossed the inner courtyard and went out of the main doors on to the street. He joined her on the pavement a moment later. He shook his head at her, scowling, hardly meeting her eye. He looked tired and drawn. She tried not to show her chagrin, readying herself to be sent back inside. The farmer sighed.
‘If you come,’ he said quietly, his energy gone, ‘you must not say a word. Understand? With this kind of man you must tread like a mouse. He’s extremely dangerous.’
She nodded, and her stomach grew even more unsettled now that she knew she’d meet the doctor. They might get answers; they might be allowed to take Schosi home. They set off walking, he sighing and retying his scarf, she humming – a cheery song from the League to distract herself. When they reached the main street it was busy with shoppers collecting rations, harassed and unsmiling, with sharp elbows and shoulders and clacking shoes. Herr Esterbauer tutted and swore, dodging baskets and prams; a butcher burst from his shop and booted a loitering dog in his doorway; his face was beetroot-coloured above his gore-splashed apron.
They headed onwards through residential roads, walking fast, until they reached Hartburg. At the gates they slowed before entering the grounds. Ursula wanted to take hold of Herr Esterbauer’s arm but he was distant, speechless, gloved hands swinging briskly at his sides, eyes scanning the path ahead then glancing to the treetops, the leafless branches crowded with the hunched shapes of birds. Sometimes he released air from between his lips in a long, loud stream. Ursula’s nose and forehead ached in the bitter temperature; the day was wan, the sky a washed-out, soap-water grey, and scraps of mist floated across the lawns. Ahead was the main building, adrift on the fog like an armoured ship.
They were shown into the doctor’s spacious office; the nurse who’d led them there softly closed the door. The walls were lined with bookcases and filing cabinets – the desk at the far end spanned the width of the room. Dr Klein stood when they entered and raised his hand in the German greeting.
‘Heil Hitler!’
‘Heil Hitler!’ responded Herr Esterbauer, drawing his heels together and lifting his arm very straight.
The doctor gestured towards the chairs in front of the magnificent desk, and resumed his place behind it. He reclined and surveyed the farmer. Herr Esterbauer sat with his gloves bunched in his fist, very upright and with his feet planted stolidly apart; he removed his hat and swiped his palm across his hair. Ursula took off her coat and arranged herself neatly on her seat. She was sweating already and watched the doctor warily. There was no mistaking the authority of the man. His brows were heavy and low, as if he never smiled, and his close-set eyes were at once penetrating and impenetrable. His movements were smooth with a refinement and poise that was somehow deceitful. Ursula loathed him instantly.
‘So,’ said Dr Klein, ‘what is the problem?’
‘I am a loyal Party member.’ Herr Esterbauer’s voice was overly strident in the plush room. ‘I have been so for many years. I do well – my business does well – for which I heartily thank the Führer.’ Herr Esterbauer spoke in High German, using the correct grammar Ursula had been taught in school, his vowels less drawling, less like the village. He tapped his gloves against his thigh. ‘But my employee has been brought here under false pretences. He is indispensable to me. I am losing money every day that he is here.’ He looked at the doctor, cleared his throat. ‘I need him back.’
Dr Klein waited, swinging a pen between his fingers like a pendulum.
Herr Esterbauer continued, stressing the inconvenience of having to come to Vienna in person. He declared that Schosi was not feeble-minded – he could work like a horse and followed orders, he did his bit for the Reich. ‘I would not allow some degenerate, some good-for-nothing to work for me!’
‘He’s an idiot,’ interjected Dr Klein. His tone was flat. ‘And our experience of him proves quite undeniably that he has a criminal nature. Abnormalities, socially speaking.’
Herr Esterbauer quickly dabbed his brow with his handkerchief. The office was warm and his cheeks were flushed. Ursula began to fidget; she willed him to persevere.
‘Now . . .’ Herr Esterbauer cleared his throat again. ‘With respect, you’re wrong. I’m in total support of these types being locked away.’ He looked at the doctor squarely, gave a courteous nod. ‘I applaud you wholeheartedly for the work you do. But this is a mistake. He is very capable.’
Ursula studied the farmer. Did he really support the doctor? He seemed in earnest. She knew he pitied none in the camps; he’d said so once. Perhaps he felt the same about the hospitals. But Schosi he loved. Schosi was different. She prayed that Dr Klein wouldn’t detect how extravagantly Herr Esterbauer lied, or bent the truth at the very least. Dr Klein wasn’t to know whether Schosi could be useful on the farm. He wasn’t to know that in fact he required constant direction and wasn’t much help at all, beyond his tool sharpening.
There was a lengthy pause. Ursula’s pulse quickened in the silence; Dr Klein stared unblinkingly at Herr Esterbauer, and Herr Esterbauer tried to appear at ease but he shifted in his seat, dabbed his face again. From the corridor outside the office came a regular squeaking noise, like a bird call, growing louder then fading as a trolley passed by with unoiled wheels. A door was slammed somewhere many rooms away.
‘He’s just shy,’ Ursula burst out. ‘Very shy actually. You’ve got the wrong idea thinking he’s an idiot because he’s not.’
Herr Esterbauer looked at her sharply. The doctor barely glanced at her and again swung his pen, the pendulum gaining speed, a hectic flicker of metal. Ursula felt as though she’d shrunk in her chair to the size of a toddler.
Then abruptly the doctor placed the pen on the open file that lay in front of him. ‘Hillier Schosi cannot be released just like that. His file states that he comes from a squalid home with an absent mother. He’s a congenital inferior who’s not properly cared for, allowed to ramble free an
d break the law. His behaviour is subnormal – he was sterilised as a young boy in Brauhausen – I have it in his records. I know what it is that I see.’
‘His mother isn’t absent!’ said Ursula. ‘She has a job at the factory, that’s all.’
‘Shut your mouth, Ursula,’ Herr Esterbauer growled, his country accent returning. He hastily addressed the doctor. ‘While the mother works, the boy works too, under my supervision.’
‘No, no.’ The doctor shook his head impatiently. An aggravated pinkness crept into his sallow cheeks. ‘He’s been found wandering, thieving – we’ve a report of his antics from a respectable source, the local leader of the League of German Girls.’
‘From Frau Gerg who bears a grudge,’ said Ursula, unable to contain herself. ‘It’s a fib! He didn’t steal anything!’
‘That’s merely your opinion!’ Dr Klein’s eyes flashed irately on to her before focusing once more on the farmer. ‘He is clearly a liability and rule breaker. He cannot speak properly – he cannot read or write. He is obsessive and incontinent. It’s not appropriate for him to range about unattended, causing havoc.’
Ursula’s fingers trembled and her mouth was dry as dust. Now was the moment; a few more seconds and her chance would have passed. Her heart pulsed strong and loud in her ears; she opened her mouth to draw breath. But after all this time – how could she? Herr Esterbauer would despise her. Everyone would. She’d not be believed. The truth stuck like a fishhook and wouldn’t come free.
‘And he’s being treated?’ said Herr Esterbauer, changing tack. ‘The receptionist said he’s having treatment and we can’t visit him.’
