I bury my head at the base of his neck and feel, for the last time, the softness of his skin against my cheek. He is so thin I can feel his ribs through his clothes. I breathe in his scent. Try to commit it to memory. His arms are wrapped around me and we stay like this a long time, eyes closed, immersed in each other.
‘I must go,’ Walter says, pulling away from me. ‘My mother and grandmother are waiting on the platform. I can only disappear to the toilet for so long,’ he smiles.
I nod, hardly bearing to release him. We huddle out of sight in our prearranged spot behind the station, away from the hurrying crowds. I couldn’t let him leave without saying goodbye.
‘Take care of yourself,’ he whispers, studying my face.
I swallow the lump in my throat. ‘Take care of yourself too,’ I reply, holding tight to his good hand. ‘You’d better go.’
‘Yes,’ he says, slipping his hand from my grasp and picking up his case. ‘I’ll write, I promise. Just once, to let you know I’m safely there.’
‘To Erna’s address.’
‘Yes. And don’t worry. I’ll be fine.’
‘Make sure you get treatment for your hand.’
‘I’m going to the right place for it.’
He takes a deep breath and walks away, turning just once, to blow me a kiss.
‘I love you, Walter Keller,’ I call recklessly after him as he rounds the pillar and then I follow at a safe distance onto the platform where the train waits, steam hissing.
I watch Walter embrace his mother and grandmother. He climbs onto the train, slams the door and leans through the open window, his baldness covered by his hat. He waves to the two forlorn figures clinging to each other on the platform as the whistle blows, loud and shrill. The engine puffs hard and the train inches forward along the track. Walter’s eyes begin to search the crowd. I will him to see me, to look at me one last time because I daren’t wave. At last, as the train, pulls away, his eyes find mine – and in them is my everything…
At least he will be safe now, my beautiful Walter, with his gentle eyes and kind heart. His body will heal, his hair will grow back, and hopefully his fingers will recover. But the loss of him, as he puffs further and further away, is overwhelming. It’s as if hope itself sits beside Walter, leaving me bereft. It will accompany him to Munich, across the border to Zurich, and stay with him as his begins his new life in England.
With Anna.
I have not allowed myself to think of it before. All that mattered, until now, is that Walter is safe. But standing on this deserted platform, I can picture it. Him running towards her. I watch them smile into each other’s eyes. Hold hands. Share a joke. Share a bed. I see his hands on her body, doing the things he did with me. I see them laughing in the rain (because it always rains in London); heads together, they whisper to each other as they window-shop for their wedding.
And I suddenly loathe this Anna. This faceless girl who has stolen my future.
I turn my back on the empty platform and walk all the way home. It’s a raw, damp morning. I think of those still incarcerated at Buchenwald on that freezing, lonely hill in Ettersberg, probably at this moment numb to their bones in their lines, or sitting in the mud and filth. My hands are toasty warm in the fur-lined pockets of my coat and a rash of guilt engulfs me. Walter was in a horrific state after less than two weeks. What must it be like for those still there? What can I do? The authorities, the government, the police, the law… they are all on the side of the jailors. My mind searches through wild solutions – sending anonymous letters to foreign governments, begging for help; pleading with Vati or his cronies; marching to the Party headquarters to protest. But nothing I can think of would make a jot of a difference. I’d only end up joining them in that camp. I am wretchedly useless.
When I get home, I tell Mutti I’ve been taken unwell and cannot cope with school today. Schoolwork has no value for me anymore. She pats me on the head and suggests I lie down. I take my diary from its hiding place, plump the cushions in my window seat and, with Kuschi beside me, I begin to write.
I made you a promise before you left. I shan’t forget it, but I know now that I won’t be able to keep it. I promised I would do everything in my power to help your family. You’ve only been gone a few hours, but I’m confessing already that I will let you down. I cannot help them. Vati loathes the sight of me. I’ve disgraced myself in his eyes by making him help you. He won’t do anything else – and if I threaten him again, he will simply pack me off to a Lebensborn home to make children for the Führer. So what can one helpless girl, with no influence, do? I’ve heard that some men are now being released from the camps; with luck your father and uncle will be amongst them. As for the women and children in your family, other than beg Herr Bäcker for help, I have no clue what I can do. When I think back to the early days of the Reich, all the hope and excitement that such good things were to come, I wonder how, in just a few short years, we went from that, to this. A monster was unleashed which nobody fully understood. It was allowed to grow until, now, it’s an uncontrollable force, and we are powerless to stop it. The fact is, I’m not the person you thought I was. I’m not the person I thought I was. It turns out I’m nobody special at all. It turns out I was never destined for great things. I’m just me, and I’m infinitely smaller than I ever thought possible.