The Glimmer Palace

by Beatrice Colin

  The soldier glanced round and saw Lilly with her basket of roses.

  “What have we here?” he said. “Flowers for my flowers.”

  It was then that Lilly recognized him as one of the soldiers from the garrison. She remembered him perched on the windowsill in the general’s office with his cup of tea. He looked at her long and hard. Lilly stared back. She would deny everything.

  “How much for a pink one?” he said at last. “My pretty.”

  She picked up a Damask, still wet with night dew.

  “Four marks,” she replied.

  He pulled a face.

  “So, this is no ordinary common or garden rose,” he replied.

  “No,” she said. “It’s a Perpetual Damask. Bred by a Frenchman called Nabonnand.”

  The soldier looked up. He had thick dark hair and a large mustache. His face was creased with laugh lines and blurred with drink. He pulled out a handful of change and leaned toward her.

  “I’m always here on a Tuesday,” he whispered.

  She smiled as she handed him the rose. He didn’t remember her after all.The two women were still arguing.

  “Better make it two,” he said, and gave her a handful of marks and pfennigs. “And you can keep the change.”

  “Thank you,” she replied. “And give the general my best regards.”

  The soldier cocked his head to the side.

  “Oh,” he said. “So you know the general, do you?” And then he winked.

  Lilly handed the money to Hanne in the cool street outside. As she did so, she glanced over her shoulder through the open door of the tavern. And there was the soldier, gazing after her. She gave him a half-smile. He raised his glass. It was almost too easy.

  Hanne grabbed her arm and pulled her from the doorway.

  “What are you doing?” she said.

  “Nothing,” Lilly replied.

  Lilly gazed at her friend, her eyes wide with shock. Hanne’s grip was so firm, it hurt.

  “I didn’t do anything,” she said. “I charged him a fortune.”

  “Never smile at them,” Hanne said. “Never. Don’t let them think of you that way.”

  “Why not?” Lilly asked. “What way?”

  Hanne Schmidt did not want to tell her about the men she had known, men who had sought out nipples on flat chests and hairless legs in high heels. Grown men who liked little girls.

  “Because,” she said emphatically. “Just because. Let’s go.”

  The autumn of 1911 was especially hot in Berlin. Although cool forests stretched all the way to the Polish plains, the city baked in its long stone coat and the heat drove people temporarily insane. One man stole an army uniform, rounded up a bunch of soldiers, marched to the town hall, arrested the mayor, and made off with four thousand marks. One woman rode the Ferris wheel at the newly constructed Luna Park before taking all her clothes off and throwing herself naked from the apex.

  In the orphanage, half a dozen boys ran away. Their beds were almost immediately filled by some Jewish children whose parents had been killed when the horse-drawn cart they were all traveling in was hit by a train. And then there was another outbreak of lice and all the younger children had to have their heads shaved.

  Sister August’s head itched. Her body underneath the thick brown habit ran with perspiration. She watched Lilly and Hanne walk in the shade in the garden. Although they still wore shapeless orphanage dresses, their bodies had been redrawn with the curves and hollows of puberty. Recently they had begun to wrap their arms around their chests and would not strip down to their petticoats like the younger girls. She noticed then that although Hanne had always been aware of her own prettiness, Lilly was not. At ten, she was taut as a rubber band. Her big eyes and sharp little face were always moving, always fluid, and what could be seen as potential insubordination in a child was restless and beautiful in a young woman. They were heading toward the rose garden. Maybe the general had been right after all.

  She locked herself in the bathroom and washed her face with cool water. She rarely glanced in the mirror above the sink, but this time she paused and examined her eyes, her mouth, her nose. The skin across her cheekbones was smooth but three thick lines crossed her forehead. Her eyes were clear but the lids were wrinkled. She was thirty-seven. How could she have grown so old?

  That morning she had received two letters.The first was from the convent. She was instructed to give up control of St. Francis Xavier’s to a Sister Maria. The second was from her mother. Her father had died very suddenly of a heart attack. Sister August stared in the mirror, looking for any signs of Lotte. But they were gone. He was not her father, she told herself. Her father was in heaven already.

  Sister Maria would arrive the very next day. Sister August knew that she had been sent to watch her, to report back, and to detail all her misdemeanors. News had reached the order about the children staging unsuitable plays and being taught by cabaret performers.They had also heard that the orphanage was in receipt of some very strange gifts. But her worst crime, as far as she could tell, was to accept Jews.

  All the children, apart from the Jews, attended Mass once a day; on that she could not be faulted. The priest came every Sunday to take a service and spend a couple of hours listening to confessions. And whatever the children told him didn’t seem to upset him unduly.

  The children were mostly clean and well fed, and as well as being literate, they knew some German poetry by heart. But despite her rationale, despite her deliberate attempt to be realistic, unsentimental, and practical toward the children, she wondered now if she had failed them, if her approach had not equipped them well for adult-hood at all. And it was at that moment, as the tap dripped and the sound of laughter drifted through the window, that the general’s words came clanging back to her.What did she know of life?

  anne kept the rose money in a tobacco tin underneath her mattress. Lilly didn’t mind pooling the takings. After all, it had been Hanne’s idea. The garden had been well planned and provided them with flowers almost all year round. They always started at Bötzow’s beer garden before heading back to the Friedrichstrasse, Oranienburger Tor, and the Unter den Linden. Occasionally they spent some of their money and went to a late-night showing in a cinema. There, in the blue, smoky air, they watched Charlie Chaplin films or Oskar Messter’s newsreels. Men stared at them in the queue for the chocolate kiosk but they never returned their gaze.

  That evening the heat of the day still rose from the bricks, the cobblestones, and the painted metal archways of the S-Bahn. It was still light when Hanne and Lilly paused on the top of the wall to let the cool breeze from the river lift their skirts. Many of the roses had been scorched or blown or would start to turn brown the moment they opened. Hanne had cut some rosebuds too early and Lilly knew that they would never flower.

  “Maybe we should charge less for the buds,” suggested Lilly.

  “Lilly, the men don’t care about the flowers,” Hanne snapped. “Can’t you see that yet?”

  Lilly paused before she spoke. Hanne’s moods could change suddenly and unexpectedly.

  “Then they should pay more,” Lilly said softly. “Let’s charge them double.”

  It was then that they heard the regular tick of a woman’s footsteps approaching. Both girls lay on top of the wall, their faces pressed against the baked stone and dried-out moss, and waited for her to pass.

  The woman came round the corner from the direction of the orphanage gate and stopped to adjust her shoe. She wore an old-fashioned, high-collared blouse and a long brown skirt that hovered a few inches above her ankles. Her face was hidden beneath a large straw hat. Finally the shoe was fixed. She stood up, took a deep breath, and continued walking. She was unusually tall.The girls sat up and looked at each other. Even in a different outfit, they could not mistake her. It was Sister August.

  They left the roses on top of the wall, dropped down onto the street, and followed the nun in woman’s clothing. She paused at the stone entranceway of th
e Tiergarten and then went through, walking along the avenue that led to the Grosser Stern in the middle of the park. From there, she headed south toward the zoological gardens.

  “She’s going to the Kurfürstendamm,” whispered Lilly.

  “I know,” said Hanne.

  A tram rolled past them and swerved into the Grosser Stern. It pulled in at a stop and momentarily obscured the tall woman in the large straw hat. And by the time it drew away, she was gone.

  “Let’s go back and get the roses,” said Lilly. “Before it gets dark.” hen the man with the brown eyes asked her name, Sister

  August told him it was Lotte. He bought her a glass of white wine and she did not stop sipping until she felt the alcohol reach her fingertips, her earlobes, and her wide red lips.

  “Do you want to come for a walk?” he asked after her third glass.

  They walked back to Zoo and into the Tiergarten. It was now dark and the moonlight turned the leaves of the linden trees pewter. His kiss was urgent and soon his fingers were in her hair, in her mouth, on her buttons, on her bare white breasts. She reached down and lifted her skirt until she felt him push against her, hard and hot.

  “Slow down,” she whispered.

  He pulled back for a second and they looked at each other. Sister August saw that he was young—much younger, in fact, than she was. Her fingertip rested on the nape of his neck. It was soft, soft as the skin of a child. He shivered and then he smiled.

  “You’re a real beauty,” he said. And there, in her civilian clothes, with the moonlight in her hair and the taste of wine and sweat on her skin, she knew she was. When he entered her at last, she was far, far beyond any place she had been before. She was liquid, she was made of light, she was buzzing and blazing as she was pulled to the brink, to the edge of herself.

  “Jesus,” he said, and pulled out just in time.

  Sister August gasped twice and then finally fell.

  The next day Lilly watched Sister August closely to see if there was any outward sign of her transgression. But despite the fact that they had seen her enter the Tiergarten in civilian clothing, she was calmer, much calmer than she had been for months. She even introduced with a smile the new nun who, they discovered at breakfast, was to replace her.

  The night before in the park, she had sobbed as she had buttoned up her blouse and straightened her skirt. Lotte, he whispered, what’s wrong? And she had wiped her eyes on his shirt and told him the truth. My father died. My father died.

  Sister Maria was middle-aged and sullen. A large brown mole on her nose sprouted thick black hairs and her hands looked red and scalded. She immediately dismissed all the lecturers from the university. Meals became more frugal and portions smaller. One morning they woke to find the Jewish children’s beds stripped and empty.

  From the moment she saw Lilly and Hanne, Sister Maria decided that they were bound to be trouble.

  “Do you know the books of the Bible?” she asked them. “In order?”

  They shook their bowed heads.

  “Psalm Eighty-four? You must know that: ‘I had rather be a door-keeper in the house of my God than to dwell in the tents of ungodliness. ’ ”

  They stared at the floor.

  “Just as I thought,” she sighed. “I think we should split you two up.”

  They were moved to opposite sides of the dormitory and were not allowed to sit together at mealtimes. As for the rose garden, it was placed out of bounds. Sister August saw it all but did not intervene. It was as if she had lifted her hands. Sometimes, to Lilly at least, the night they had followed her seemed like a feverish dream.

  “Maybe it wasn’t Sister August,” Lilly whispered in the bathroom as they were getting ready for bed.

  “Course it was,” said Hanne, her mouth full of toothpaste.

  She gargled and then spat into the sink.

  “You are coming out tonight?You haven’t changed your mind?”

  “Course not,” Lilly said.

  At just after nine, the girls met at the window of the bathroom on the first floor. For the first time ever it was locked.

  “Let’s try the downstairs,” whispered Hanne.

  They tiptoed along the corridor and down the stairs. It was too risky to try the main doors.They would be locked with several heavy bolts apiece.

  “A window?” whispered Hanne.

  The windows in the dining room were long and opaque. There was a single pane right at the very top that could be opened with a long pole. It was, however, nowhere to be found. Lilly balanced one chair on another, climbed up, and unfastened the lock. And then they heard the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs.

  “Just where do you think you’re going?” Sister Maria shouted.

  “Go!” shouted Hanne, and gave Lilly a shove from below. “Wait for me at the wall.”

  Lilly threw herself up and over the lip of the sill, balanced for a second, and then tipped and fell headfirst into a lilac bush. Through the window she could see Hanne, her hands flat against the glass, her face blurred as she climbed the chairs. Eight white fingers appeared and clutched the sill. One buckled boot was thrust through the open window. She was almost there, but not quite. As Lilly watched, Sister Maria’s figure appeared below. Her hand grabbed an ankle and pulled. Hanne’s boot slipped back, the fingers lost their grip, and Hanne and all the chairs went tumbling down into the dining room.

  Lilly lay on the top of the wall and waited. Hanne might still escape; it wasn’t impossible. The street below, now filled with fallen leaves, seemed hostile and dangerous. The trains on the S-Bahn wailed as they passed, and the shadowy figures beneath the archways seemed more numerous than usual.The air was charged.There was a storm coming. The sky pressed down on the city like a palm on clay. She couldn’t go out alone. But she couldn’t go back, either.

  Hours later she was awakened by the rain.The street was dark and wet. Hanne wasn’t coming.

  Sister Maria was waiting at the main door when Lilly appeared, soaked through and shivering.The nun marched her to the pantry and told her that, in all likelihood, she was destined for hell. Before she locked the pantry door and turned out the light, Sister Maria suggested that the only thing that could save her were several hundred Hail Marys, but even then her salvation was doubtful.

  By the tenth Hail Mary, Lilly’s teeth were chattering so much that she could hardly speak. By the time she reached the thirtieth, her fingers and toes were numb. On her fiftieth Hail Mary, Lilly’s head had begun to spin. Where was Sister August? And how could she have let this happen to her?

  When Sister August discovered her the next morning, Lilly was delirious. She was taken straight to the infirmary, where she fell in and out of consciousness for three days. In her nightmares Sister August had a thick red beard and was kissing Hanne. Lilly knew that if she didn’t finish the Hail Marys she might spend eternity in purgatory, but every time she started, the words tumbled out in the wrong order and her fate was confirmed.

  One night she woke up to the taste of lemons and thought she was three again. She saw Sister August leaning over her with a glass in her hand and loved her unconditionally. But then Lilly remembered in glimpses what had happened and the world started to turn too fast and make no sense.

  There was no one around when she finally opened her eyes one morning and knew where she was and why. The fever had lifted, and although she felt a little shaky, she made herself get out of bed and go look for the nurse. The corridors of the orphanage were deathly quiet; the classrooms were empty, the garden deserted, and the door to Sister August’s room had been left open. The children, Lilly later discovered, had all been ordered to attend a daylong retreat.

  She found the nurse in the kitchen making porridge. The nurse hurried Lilly back to bed and tucked her in. As she ate her porridge, the nurse answered her questions. Hanne had been expelled. Nobody knew what Sister August said to the other nun, but she had left suddenly and without explanation. Sister August’s departure had been more recent. She
had set off the day before, leaving her habit and veil on her bed. No one, not even the convent in Munich, had any idea where she had gone.

  The girl’s eyes did not leave the nurse’s face as she recounted the news point by point, and for a moment she almost believed she had overestimated her patient’s possible response. But then Lilly dropped the spoon into her half-eaten porridge and let out a low, thin cry.

  “She’ll come back?” she begged the nurse. “Won’t she?”

  Lilly’s response was generated by sheer, blinding panic. The thought that she might never see Sister August again made it hard to breathe. And so she cried without inhibition, like a small child who realizes she has been abandoned. Although she had been angry with her, Lilly had never suspected that this would happen. Hadn’t she loved Sister August enough? What had she done?

  “Won’t she?” she repeated.

  The nurse pretended not to hear the question.

  “She waited until she knew you were getting better,” the nurse said softly as she stroked the girl’s distraught little face. “You were one of her favorites, you know.”

  But this did not seem to offer her any comfort at all.The child was inconsolable.

  The nurse cleared the porridge away and started to wash up.With so much to do, she couldn’t waste any more time.There was another piece of news, which, wary of upsetting the child further, she had failed to mention. After Sister Maria’s visit, the order in Munich had decided to cancel all involvement with the orphanage. On hearing this, the industrialist’s descendants had decided to sell the building. St. Francis Xavier’s closing had been determined, effective immediately.

  The Blue Cat

  Berlin: the opening of the Marmorhaus Cinema. Constructed of solid marble of the palest hue with only the whisker of a crease here and there, the walls seemed to glow in the twilight, as if lit up inside by candles. At the main door, a man with a reel of tickets was placed to collect overcoats and evening cloaks. And then, one by one, the hansom cabs drew up and carefully deposited their passengers into the rapid blinking of the photographers’ flashes.