The days turned to weeks, and still there was no news of Kurt. In many ways Ruth wished they had found some way to remain in Gerbergasse, where at least they would be surrounded by people they knew. There might be news of the men who had been taken the night of the riot; such news would spread swiftly through the neighbourhood. There might be news of Kurt.
Ruth had written to Frau Meyer to thank her for her kindness and to tell her that they had reached Herbert’s in safety She’d asked if anything had been heard of those arrested. The letter she received in reply did nothing to raise her spirits.
Dear Frau Friedman,
Thank you for your letter. I am glad you and the children are safe with your brother-in-law. You are certainly safer than you would be here. Terror stalks our streets now, and we walk in fear of our lives.
Herr Rosen came back the other day. He’s been held in some sort of camp. A place called Dachau. He says that all the men from here are being held there. The conditions there are very bad. He has been let out because he has agreed to leave Germany with his family and never return. He came to collect them, but they have had to leave everything behind. Everything except what they could put into one suitcase, and that was searched by the Gestapo to make sure they weren’t taking anything of value. They went three days ago, and already another family have moved into their apartment.
So far nothing has been done with your shop. Leo boarded up the door, but it remains a burnt-out shell.
If your husband comes here I will tell him where you are, but I shall not write to you again, and ask you not to write to me. Who can tell if the post is safe?
God bless you all,
L
There was no return address on the letter, nothing other than the single initial to identify the writer, but its content struck fear into Ruth’s heart. She had done the right thing moving the children out of the area; she could only pray that Kurt would soon be let out of this Dachau place, wherever it was, and be able to come for them. If it meant leaving Germany, Ruth wouldn’t mind. What was left for people like them here, after all? Encouraged by the government and orchestrated by the Gestapo, the persecution was getting worse, more frequent, the ways of degrading and humiliating Jews becoming more inventive, more brutal.
This isn’t how I want my children to live, Ruth thought as she read and re-read the letter. Better we leave now. But where, with no money, no possessions? America? England? Palestine? How can we go? What should we live on?
She would show the letter to Herbert when he got home that evening and see what he thought about it. Probably he would say that Leah Meyer was being alarmist. He still thought that Jews who kept their heads down were in no real danger. He had become less concerned about her and the children being in his home recently, now that she was so careful to do nothing more to draw attention to them. He even played with the children sometimes, in the evening when he came in. He genuinely had difficulty in telling the twins apart, and often called them by the wrong name, which sent them off into paroxysms of laughter, and once he discovered that he could make them laugh, he found that he enjoyed doing so. One day he had come home with a present for each of them; soft toy rabbits dressed in striped trousers for the twins, some crayons for Inge and a book for Laura. The delight on the children’s faces as they opened the parcels was mirrored in his own, and Ruth could see he was becoming genuinely fond of them.
This evening, however, he came home late, well after the children were in bed, and at once Ruth could see that something was wrong. He seemed to have aged ten years since the morning. He looked pale, his skin, the colour of parchment, seemed more tightly drawn over his cheekbones. His shoulders sagged and his whole body seemed to have shrunk. Only his eyes gleamed, and they gleamed not with life, but with fear, continually darting in all directions as if he expected an attack.
“Herbert? Are you all right? What’s happened?”
For answer he simply shook his head and sank down into his armchair, burying his head in his hands.
“Herbert?” Ruth waited, but it was some time before her brother-in-law looked up at her, his eyes wide with fear and disbelief.
“Herr Durst,” he said. “Herr Durst has left.”
Ruth knew that Herbert thought the light of day shone out of Herr Jacob Durst, the senior partner. She had often had to listen to Herbert extolling the abilities, the intellect, the steadfast character of Herr Durst, the mainstay of the firm.
“Left? Left the office?”
“They’ve thrown him out!”
“Thrown him out? Who’s thrown him out?”
“The other partners.”
“The other partners? Why? Why would they do that?”
“The firm was losing clients,” replied Herbert wearily. “Nobody wants a Jewish lawyer anymore. Just having his name on the letterheads has made the clients look elsewhere.”
“So, what’s going to happen?” asked Ruth.
“It’s already happened,” Herbert said. “They had a meeting today… without him, and after it they called him in and told him to leave… there and then. To leave everything in his desk and his files… everything. When he went back to the office for his coat, his desktop was clear… there was nothing on it, except the photograph of his wife and daughters stuffed into a brown paper bag.”
“And he just accepted this? It was his firm; you told me he founded the firm.” Ruth was incredulous. “And he let them simply throw him out?”
Herbert let out a shuddering sigh. “What else could he do? Wait to be manhandled out of the building? They were already changing the locks on the doors as I followed him out.”
“You followed him out?” repeated Ruth.
Herbert gave a mirthless laugh. “You don’t think they’d keep me on once he’d gone, do you? I was at my desk as he passed my door, and within two minutes Herr Hartmann was in the room, saying, ‘Out, Friedman! We don’t want your sort here either!’ I sat there staring at him, because I didn’t know then what had happened to Herr Durst.
“I must have looked very stupid, because he crossed over to the desk and put his face right down next to mine and spoke very slowly and distinctly as if I was an idiot. ‘Get out of this office, Friedman, and don’t come back.’”
“What did you say?”
“I didn’t know what to say. He simply turned away saying, as he walked out of the door, ‘Collect your wage packet from Fräulein Weiss. You’re lucky to get it.’ I was still too shocked to move, I just stared at him and then he said, ‘And if you’re still here in five minutes’ time, you won’t be paid!’”
“Did you get it?” Ruth asked anxiously. “Did they pay you what they owed?” Her own money had dwindled to almost nothing, and would have run out long ago if Herbert hadn’t given her housekeeping money… the money he no longer paid Frau Schultz.
“Yes, they’ve paid me to the end of the week. It’s not much.”
“But if you left so early, where have you been since?” wondered Ruth.
“When I’d collected my money from Fräulein Weiss, I went after Herr Durst. He was outside in the street, looking up at the office building as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. We were hardly out of the door before we saw someone not only changing the locks on the front door, but replacing the brass plate beside it.”
“The brass plate?”
“With the name of the firm. As from today the firm has a new name. Hartmann and Weber.” Herbert shook his head sadly. “This must all have been planned for some time,” he went on. “How else would they have had the new nameplate ready? When I came out, Herr Durst looked across at me and said, ‘You too, Friedman? I’m sorry about that. No Jews allowed.’ ‘What will you do now, sir?’ I asked him.”
“What did he say?”
“He said, ‘Perhaps set up on my own again, and deal only with Jewish clients. Let’s face it,’ he said, ‘there are plenty of Jews who need my help just now.’ ‘Will you have work for me?’ I asked him. ‘I need a job too.’ He said, ‘Come and have a drink and we’ll talk about it.’”
“So that’s where you’ve been.” Ruth sounded relieved.
“We went to a bar where Herr Durst is known, and they did serve us, but it was clear they overcharged us. When I said as much to Herr Durst, he said that it had been so for some time now, but that it meant he could still buy a drink there if he wanted to.”
“So, did he give you a job?”
“No. He gave me advice.” Herbert fell silent.
“What?” demanded Ruth at last. “What did he say?”
“He said I should get out while I could.”
“Get out?” echoed Ruth. “Get out of where?”
“Germany. He said I was single and that it would be easy for me to leave now, but he thought things were going to get much worse. That the time would come when it would be too late. Jews wouldn’t be allowed to leave.”
“And is he going to get out?” enquired Ruth.
“No,” answered Herbert, “but he has a family, it’s not so easy for him simply to up sticks and go.”
“Exactly! He has family! You’d think he would be trying to get them out as soon as he can.”
“He said he’d thought of it,” Herbert said, “but he’s not sure it’s necessary for a family like his.”
“A family like his?” Ruth spoke with the utmost scorn. “Does he really think he’s too well connected to be in any danger? Does he think the Nazis pay any attention to that? He’s a Jew. All Jews are at risk.” Ruth pulled Leah Meyer’s letter out of her pocket and handed it to Herbert. “Read that,” she said. “Jews are being rounded up and sent to this dreadful camp, well the men are anyway, and they are only being allowed out if they agree to leave Germany for good. Kurt is in this camp… at least I assume he is, as he was arrested the same night as Martin Rosen. God knows if he will be offered the same chance to leave, but in the meantime things are getting worse, you know they are. Look what she says here, ‘terror stalks the streets’, she means the Gestapo.”
“I know it, you know it. But there’s nothing we can do about it except keep out of the way.”
“That’s not going to work forever,” Ruth said. “Only today when I was out with the children we heard them marching towards us. There was nowhere to hide, and as they came towards us those dreadful boots they wear crashing on the road, they sounded like an enemy army. They took no notice of us this time, but I was terrified for the children.”
“You shouldn’t be taking them out,” Herbert said.
“I have to. They can’t stay prisoners in here all day and every day. Oh Herbert, I wish I knew what to do!”
Herbert nodded wearily. “So do I,” he said.
Ruth hardly slept that night, churning everything over in her mind, considering and discarding ideas as to what they might do. Herbert losing his job meant that his income had dried up, which meant that hers had too. What were they going to live on? How was she going to feed four hungry children, not to mention herself and Herbert? It wasn’t just money for food that she had to find. The winter was coming, they would need warm clothes. She could try and get work herself, but there were so few jobs, and almost none that might be given to a Jew. Ruth didn’t mind hard work, would welcome it if it meant that her children were warm and fed, but she knew there would be little on offer.
And even if I can get work, she wondered, who’ll look after the children? It’ll have to be Laura; though she’s only ten, she’ll have to look after them if I do manage to find something.
Herbert might be more lucky, she thought. He, unlike her with her dark hair and eyes, her slightly hooked nose and wide mouth, was not so obviously Jewish. He might find himself a job of some sort, even if not the kind of work he was used to. He won’t be able to be choosy about what he does, she thought. He’ll have to take anything that’s offered.
At last she drifted off into fitful sleep, from which she woke in the morning, un-refreshed, her eyes as heavy as her heart.
Herbert left at his usual time next morning, as if he were going to the office. Ruth was pleased he did, it prevented any awkward questions from Laura, who was quite old enough and bright enough to notice a change in routine. At the end of the week he gave Ruth her usual housekeeping money, but though he had been looking for work every day, he told her, “There’s no work for anyone. I did call on Herr Durst again, but he was not at home.”
“Not at home, or not at home to you?” asked Ruth.
Herbert shrugged. “It’s all one when it comes down to it,” he said. “He’s not going to be able to give me any work, even if he gets something set up for himself. He has two sons. They will keep anything like that in the family. It’s everyone for himself these days.”
Ruth could only agree with him. There had been unrest all over the country, though not, thank goodness, in their immediate locality. All Jews were constantly looking over their shoulders now. Frau Meyer’s words lived in her mind: “terror stalks our streets”. Ruth, like almost all Jews, had become more and more aware of the tramp of jackboots, and the casual cruelty of the Hitler Youth who haunted the Jewish districts, hunting in gangs. She seldom took the children far these days, just a short walk each day to give them some exercise and fresh air. They were virtually prisoners in the apartment, and although she tried to keep up a pretence of normality, they were changing from the cheerful, rosy-cheeked children she had brought from Gerbergasse, to restive, fractious children, pale-faced and hollow-eyed.
It was over a week later that Herbert finally dropped his bombshell.
“I’m going to Argentina,” he told Ruth when the children were safely in bed and they were alone in the living room. They were sitting across the dining table from each other, the remains of a frugal meal between them.
Ruth stared at him, aghast. “You’re what?”
“I’m going to Argentina,” he repeated, “I’ve booked my passage on a ship. I leave from Hamburg next week. There’s nothing to keep me here.”
Ruth continued to stare at him. “Nothing to keep you here,” she echoed flatly.
Herbert continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “I’ve no family, and it’s no good me waiting to see if Herr Durst is going to set up another firm. I’m getting out while I still can.”
“Nothing to keep you here,” Ruth said again. “No family. What about Kurt’s children? Kurt’s family? Don’t you think we might need you?”
Herbert looked a little uncomfortable, but he spoke firmly. “I have thought about you and the children… of course I have. I would take you, but Kurt will be coming to look for you here. Otherwise I’d take you with me, of course I would… But you said yourself that this is where Kurt will come to find you.” His eyes showed a gleam of… what? Ruth wasn’t sure as she listened to him cap his lies with the argument she had used to get him to allow them to stay with him.
“Here,” she repeated. “But if you’ve gone…”
“My dear Ruth,” Herbert said soothingly, “you don’t think I am just going to walk away and leave you with nowhere to live, do you?”
It was exactly what Ruth was thinking, so she didn’t reply as she waited for him to continue. “Of course not.” He shook his head firmly. “It would be wrong to take you with me, but you can stay here. The rent on this flat is paid up until the end of the year. You can stay here, just as you are now until Kurt comes for you. If they’re letting them out of that camp, it won’t be long before he’s here with you again.”
“And you’ve actually booked your passage? Bought your ticket? You have your ticket in your hands?”
“Not yet, but I’ve paid for it. I collect it from the office of the shipping company tomorrow.”
“Let’s hope there is one for you,” snapped Ruth bitterly.
Once he had told her, Herbert’s demeanour began to change. He had made his decision some days ago, but now he had admitted it to Ruth there came a sense of relief, a sense of purpose. He still looked older than his years, but a little colour began to creep back into his cheeks. He got up from his chair and went to the sideboard where he poured himself a glass of schnapps. Turning back towards Ruth he saw her watching him, her eyes dull with worry.
“Would you like a drink, Ruth?” he asked awkwardly. “I’m sorry, I should have asked you.”
Ruth was about to refuse when she thought, “Why not?” She seldom drank alcohol, but suddenly she felt in need of… whatever it might supply. She nodded and Herbert poured another, smaller measure into a glass and handed it to her.
“Prosit!” he said.
Ruth took the glass and took a sip. The drink was fiery in her throat, and she coughed, before downing the rest in one draught, and coughing again.
“Steady,” Herbert said. “You’re not used to it.” He tilted his own glass and he, too, downed the contents in one, before pouring each of them another.
Later, as Ruth lay on the sofa, feeling a little woozy from the unaccustomed schnapps, she went over and over what Herbert had said.
“You can stay here in the flat. You’ll be fine.”
“And what do you suggest we live on?” she had demanded angrily. “Fresh air?”
“Of course not,” Herbert soothed. “I will give you some money. It’s the least I can do. I have some money saved. Most of it I must take with me, to start again in Argentina… but of course I will leave you enough to keep you going until Kurt gets here.”
“And supposing he doesn’t?” demanded Ruth, staring at him icily. “Supposing he doesn’t get here?”
Herbert had returned her stare. “Then you’ll be on your own, Ruth. I’ll have done everything I can for you, and it’ll be up to you.”
“Will they let you take your money with you?” she’d asked a little later. “I thought you weren’t allowed to take anything valuable with you.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve thought of that,” Herbert replied. “I’m not taking it in actual cash. I’ve converted it into something more portable; something easier to hide. I’ll get it out all right.”
Ruth didn’t ask what, or where he would conceal it. She didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to know how much he was taking, or how. She simply asked, “When do you go?” She knew that whatever she said or did, Herbert would leave and she and the four children would be on their own.
“I collect my ticket tomorrow,” he replied, “and then take the train to Hamburg. The boat leaves next week.”
So this time tomorrow, Ruth thought, it’ll just be me and the children.
She fought to keep the rising panic at bay. She fought the tears of frustration and desperation that threatened to overwhelm her. This was no time to give way to tears. It was only her strength that was going to keep them alive.
Herbert had spent much of the night packing. Ruth could hear him moving round his bedroom, opening and closing drawers and the wardrobe. There was the occasional creak of bedsprings, and then as the grey of a false dawn lightened the sky, one final groan of the bed as Herbert lay down.
Ruth wondered if he had actually managed to go to sleep, or whether he, too, was lying in the dark, afraid of what the future might hold.
Next morning he ate his breakfast in silence, paying no attention to the chatter of the children, and they, picking up the strange atmosphere, gradually slipped into silence. As soon as they had finished eating, Ruth sent them to their bedroom, telling them to play in there until she called them to do their lessons.
Herbert looked at his sister-in-law across the table. “I’ll be off soon,” he said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bundle of notes and handed them across to her. “This should keep you going for a while,” he said. “As I told you, the rent is paid until the end of the year. You’ll have a roof over your heads until then at least.”
Ruth nodded, and reaching for the money put it into her pocket. “Thank you for that,” she said, getting to her feet. “I wish you the best of luck in your new life, Herbert.”
“As soon as I get settled there, I’ll be in touch. Kurt can bring you all over to join me… and,” Herbert paused as if not knowing quite how to phrase what he wanted to say next, before continuing awkwardly, “and, if he hasn’t come back by then, perhaps you should consider joining me anyway… to keep the children safe.”
“Yes, well…”
“Yes, well…” Herbert turned away and went into his bedroom. Ruth was still standing beside the breakfast table when he reappeared a few moments later, wearing his overcoat and a felt hat and carrying a large suitcase.
“Obviously I haven’t been able to take all my clothes with me,” he said. “Kurt can have them when he gets here.” For a moment he gave his sister-in-law a long look, then he put the case on the floor and reached out to take her hand. For a moment Ruth thought he was going to put his arms round her, but he simply shook her hand and said, “Goodbye, Ruth. I’ll be in touch.”
Ruth nodded. She knew that she should be thanking him properly for the money, for housing them all for so long, for making sure they weren’t hungry and homeless. She knew that he had done all he could for them, but the words wouldn’t come. She felt so bereft at his leaving, she could only let him shake her hand before he laid his keys on the table and, without another word, walked out of the apartment. As the door closed behind him, and she heard his feet on the stairs, Ruth looked at the keys, and finally accepted that Herbert wasn’t coming home again. No man who thinks he might come back leaves the keys to his home on the table. She moved to the window and looking down into the street watched him walk away, suitcase in hand, his head bent against the late October drizzle.
“Goodbye, Herbert,” she whispered. Then with a deep breath she turned back to the room and slowly and methodically began to clear the breakfast table. When it was done she called the children to come and do their lessons.
“Uncle Herbert’s gone away for a holiday,” she told them. “He says you girls can use his bedroom while he’s away. That’s kind of him, isn’t it?”
“Will he want it back when he comes home again?” asked Inge.
“Of course he will,” said Laura. “It’s his room.” She glanced across at her mother and added, “But it will be nice to sleep in there for now.”
When they had finished their lessons, while Ruth made up Herbert’s bed with clean sheets, the girls moved their few possessions into his bedroom. They moved the clothes he had left behind into one corner of the wardrobe and began to settle in.
Ruth made the other bedroom more comfortable for the twins, deciding that she would continue to sleep on the sofa in the living room. That way everyone had a little more space. She had counted the money Herbert had given her, and she had to admit he had done his best. If she were careful she could make it last for two or even three months. They would not eat well, but they would not starve either, as they waited for Kurt to come. She divided the notes up into several smaller bundles, which she hid in different places in the apartment. One crammed between the lavatory cistern and the wall, another buried in a tin of flour in the kitchen, a third under the mattress in the twins’ room, and a fourth, the largest, tucked into her own underwear. The rest she put into the cashbox with the passports and other personal documents that was locked in their suitcase. Ruth did not know why she felt compelled to do this. It was unlikely burglars would break into a third-floor apartment, but she remembered how important the cashbox buried in the garden had been, and although there was no garden in which to hide it here, she was determined not to have all her money in the same place. She told Laura where the money was hidden. It was Laura, after all, who had remembered the box buried in the garden.
“If anything should happen to me,” she said gently, “you’ll know where to find the money.”
Laura stared at her in horror. “You won’t leave us, will you, Mutti?” she whispered.
Ruth gathered her into her arms and said, “No, darling. I won’t leave you, but we have to look after the children now, you and I, and if there was an accident or something…” Ruth’s voice trailed off as Laura’s arms tightened round her and she buried her face in her mother’s neck. For a long moment they hugged each other close. “You are my strength, now, Laura,” Ruth said. “You must help me with the younger ones.”
After lunch, they all trailed down the stairs and out into the autumn wind. The earlier drizzle had stopped, but there was a distinct chill in the air, and Ruth realised that it wouldn’t be long before she had to find the children warmer clothes if they were going out of the apartment at all. Ruth led them briskly along the street, away from the gardens, towards the canal that carried sluggish brown water behind the apartment buildings. There was a path on either side, joined by two bridges that spanned the water giving pedestrian access to the neighbourhood beyond. The children loved to walk by the canal, running ahead of their mother to drop sticks from one bridge into the slow-moving water, and rushing to the other bridge to see them arrive there.
Ruth had been afraid to let the twins play this game at first, for fear that they might fall into the canal as they raced along the path, but, holding the hand of each, she too ran between the bridges, encouraging the sticks they had dropped. It was harmless fun, it gave the children some exercise, brought a little colour to their cheeks, and laughter to their lives. Nowhere was there a sign banning Jews from the towpath.
Today when they returned from this excursion, climbing the stairs to the apartment, it felt to Ruth, for the first time, as if they were coming home. She unlocked the door and the children tumbled inside, the girls rushing into their new bedroom, the twins stumping across to the window to watch the streetlamps come on in the quiet street below.
For the first time since they had arrived in Munich, that night Ruth lay down upon the sofa, and drifted off into an easy sleep. Things were still going to be difficult, she knew that, but as she said her prayers, praying as always for Kurt to come and find them soon, she thought that maybe God was listening to her after all, and she knew the glimmerings of hope. Herbert had left them, but they had a roof, some money and each other. As she had stood beside the children’s beds, the twins, curled up together in the bed like kittens in a basket, Inge flat on her face, one arm thrown over her head and Laura, almost invisible under the quilt, she felt a sudden and overwhelming flood of love for them. Whatever happened, it was her job to protect them.
The first crash on the door made it shudder. The second splintered the wood around the lock and the third made it swing open drunkenly on its hinges. The noise set the children screaming, and Ruth shot to her feet, her heart hammering. Two men burst into the room, shouting. “Out! Out! Out!”
At first they were huge, dark figures, bursting into the apartment, making the children scream with terror, but then they were revealed as long-coated, jackbooted storm troopers, carrying guns.
Behind them was Frau Schultz.
Ruth and the children had just finished their midday meal and were still round the table.
One of the men strode through the apartment, peering into each room while the other marched over to Ruth and grabbed her violently by the hair.
“You’ve got ten minutes to pack,” he growled, yanking at Ruth’s hair so that she gasped in pain. “This place is too good for Jews. Out! The lot of you! Out! Out now!”
“Where? Where shall we go?” faltered Ruth, leaning towards her captor to try and ease the tearing at her scalp. Her words were almost drowned by the screams of the children, and the other man suddenly backhanded a slap across Inge’s face.
“Shut up!”
Inge’s hysterical screams stopped abruptly, and were replaced by a soft whimper. A white-faced Laura gathered the boys into her arms, doing her best to soothe their terrified cries, while struggling to stop her own.
“You’re terrifying the children,” Ruth stammered. “Please leave them alone. We’ll go if we must, but let me collect their things together.”
“Ten minutes.” The man released her hair. “And you can only take what you can carry.”
Frau Schultz walked across to the sofa and sat down, her back erect, her handbag on her knees, watching. Her eyes gleamed with triumph as she said, “And don’t take anything that belongs to me!”
“To you?” Ruth couldn’t help herself. “Belongs to you?”
“All this belongs to me now. I’ve earned it!”
Earned it? Somehow Frau Schultz was taking over Herbert’s apartment. How had she earned it? Ruth’s mind was in a spin, but there was no time for further exchange, let alone explanation, the ten minutes were ticking away, and the two Gestapo were standing waiting, waiting for an excuse to strike again.
Released from the man’s grasp, Ruth hurried into the boys’ bedroom, and pulled the suitcase from the wardrobe. The old deed box was still inside it. Hurriedly she threw the boys’ clothes into the case, covering the box, but with the man watching from the door, she didn’t dare retrieve the money she’d hidden under the mattress.
“Laura,” she called, putting her own clothes in on top of the boys’, “get your things. Bring them here.” The man glanced over his shoulder into the living room, but there was still no time to reach under the mattress for the money.
Laura came into the room, her arms draped with the few clothes she and Inge had between them, her precious diary tucked in among them. The man watched as Ruth piled them into the case and closed the lid.
“Good girl.” With force of will, Ruth managed to keep her voice calm though fear was coursing through her and she was shaking. Suppose the men decided to search the case? She looked across at the younger children. Inge was sitting on the floor, whimpering like a whipped puppy. Hans and Peter stood together, wide-eyed, no longer crying, but staring, almost rigid with fear, at the men in uniform who towered over them. “Now, take the boys to the bathroom while I finish packing our things.”
Laura stared at her for a moment and then nodded. Grasping a twin with each hand she dragged them into the bathroom and began to help them with their trousers. Hoping to distract the watching Gestapo from what Laura was doing, Ruth went into the kitchen, picked up her shopping basket and began to pack food into it.
“What are you taking?” demanded Frau Schultz, leaping to her feet and peering round the kitchen door. “What are you stealing? All the food in that fridge is mine.”
“Just a little flour, and some rice,” replied Ruth shakily. “Some bread and a few apples. I must have something to feed the children. I beg you.”
One of the Gestapo gave a cruel laugh. “Yes, dirty Jew! Beg! On your knees! Go on! On your knees. Beg!”
Gripping the precious basket tightly, Ruth forced herself onto her knees. “Please, Frau Schultz, let me take this basket of food for my children.”
Frau Schultz shrugged, and turned away, and Ruth made as if to get up, but the trooper kicked out, sending her sprawling.
“You haven’t begged me, yet,” he jeered. “Beg me, on your knees!”
Ruth begged.
The second man came to the door and yet again she had to beg, but at last, tiring of the game, they let her get up and carry her basket to the door. As she passed the Gestapo man, he took hold of the basket, and reaching into it selected an apple, biting into it with sharp white teeth before he let go of the handle again, and allowed Ruth to hand the basket to a white-faced Laura.
“You carry this, Laura,” she said. “I’ll get the suitcase.” She went back into the bedroom and picked up the case that now held everything that they had left in the world. She didn’t know if Laura had remembered the money hidden in the bathroom, and could only pray that she had, and had managed to retrieve it. The cash under the mattress would have to remain there. No doubt Frau Schultz would find it soon enough.
She gathered the children together and was helping them put on their coats, when Hans suddenly looked at Peter and saw he was clutching Flop-Ear, the rabbit Herbert had given him. Hans let out a wail, “Where’s Bunnkin? I want Bunnkin.” Pulling free of Laura’s restraining hand, he darted back to his bedroom to find his own rabbit. Diving among the tumbled bedcovers, he retrieved the rabbit, still dressed in his striped trousers and hugged it to him.
“Wait a minute!” One of the Gestapo grabbed Hans by the scruff of the neck and lifted him clean off his feet, snatching the rabbit from him as he did so. “Better make sure you’ve nothing hidden in this.” He dropped Hans unceremoniously to the floor and ripped the head off the rabbit. Pulling out the stuffing, he peered into its insides before tossing it aside. Hans, grabbing the remains of his rabbit, began to scream, and immediately Peter joined in.
“Get them out of here! Out! Out!” The Gestapo man pointed at Laura. “You, take them out.”
Terrified, Laura grabbed at the boys, and still clutching the basket of food dragged them out of the apartment. Inge, moaning softly, clung to her mother, her face buried in Ruth’s skirt.
“You’re lucky,” remarked one of the Gestapo. “You’re free to go. Your brother-in-law has been arrested.”
Ruth stared at him. “Arrested?” she echoed faintly. “Herbert? Why?”
“He was caught,” replied the man. “Smuggling diamonds out of the country.”
“Diamonds? Herbert?”
“Yes!” smirked Frau Schultz, “and now he’s been caught… and it’s all thanks to me! I’ve been watching you,” she went on gleefully. “I’ve been watching all of you. I saw him sneaking round, going to different jewellers, buying precious stones. I saw him getting ready to run. I saw him buying his ticket… and I reported him. They took him yesterday when he went to collect his ticket… and he had diamonds in the heels of his shoes!”
One of the Gestapo gave a scornful laugh. “In his shoes! It’s the first place we look!”
“And now I have my reward for being a good German,” crowed Frau Schultz. “I have a new home and you are back where you belong… in the gutter!”
“And if I see you anywhere round here again,” the Gestapo man said grimly, “you’ll find yourself in prison and your children in an orphanage. Now get out.”
Ruth picked up the suitcase in one hand, and pulling Inge along with the other, walked out of the flat, down the stairs, to where Laura and the twins were waiting for her in the street.