Professor Jäger was nowhere to be seen. He had called for Anna to come to his study before lunch. While she waited she scanned the shelves of his massive library, towers of books stacked on tables, magazines and newspapers piled up on the windowsill. She plucked out a tome with gold lettering along its spine, and sounded out the letters of the lengthy title: Auge-närzt-lichen oper-ati-onen. It was an illustrated book of eye surgery, with a dedication scrawled inside: To Hans Jäger – my finest student – may you go on to achieve greatness. It was signed by the author himself, Ernst Fuchs. She turned the pages, stopping at an intricate hand drawing of a woman with short, blonde curls. The model’s left eye was blue; a shapely eyebrow arched above it. But where the right eye should have been, a grotesque swelling covered by a web of bulging veins jutted out like a horn. It hung down to reach the corner of the woman’s mouth. A pupil floating on the very tip stared outwards as if longing to escape the whole ghastly mess. Anna quickly flipped to the next page, which was filled with an elaborate sketch of a young child with beautiful long braids. The girl’s forehead was covered with a knotted, floral scarf under which another bulbous eye bulged out.
‘Hello, my dear. I trust you are settling in.’
Anna turned to see the professor standing by the door. Snapping the book shut, she quickly placed it back on the shelf and picked Lalka up from where she had left her lying on the rug. He tossed his hat onto a marble bust and headed across to the desk. Framed diplomas covered the wall behind him. Settling into a chair, he smoothed down strands of greasy hair plastered across his balding head.
‘You may continue,’ he said. ‘That book you were looking at is the bible for us eye surgeons, and the man who wrote it is a genius. He taught me that attention to detail is of the utmost importance in everything you do, especially for my profession. The only organ more complex than the brain is the eye.’
Anna took the book back down from the shelf and continued to look at the drawings, feeling a mixture of revulsion and fascination. She thought about the people who modelled for the artist and wondered what was wrong with them. She squinted as she turned the pages, rubbing her eyes.
‘What’s wrong, child?’ the professor asked, peering over the rim of his spectacles.
‘Nothing, sir.’
‘Come.’ His fingers beckoned, reeling her in like a fish.
She closed the book again and padded across the room.
‘Here,’ he said, pointing to a chair.
She sat down beside him, hugging Lalka tightly.
‘Look at me,’ he said, cupping her chin in his hand.
She sat still as he turned off the lamp. He shone a torch in each eye, then pointed in front of her. ‘Follow my finger.’
The bright light, coupled with the stench of stale tobacco on his breath, made her eyes water. He showed her a chart filled with black letters and asked her to read the bottom line. She struggled to make out the blurry characters. She closed her eyes, only to see images of the letters still flashing before her.
He grabbed a small brown vial from the desk. ‘Lean back, please. I am just going to use some drops so I can see the back of your eye.’
Anna froze. A wave of nausea suddenly engulfed her, and she started dry-retching as she felt a headache brewing. Papa called them her nerve storms, which usually came on when she was upset.
‘Here.’ He picked up a decanter that rested on the sideboard and poured a glass of water. ‘Drink this.’
She took a sip.
Turning his attention away from Anna, the professor hurriedly scribbled some notes into an exercise book. ‘I’m only trying to help you, silly child,’ he snorted, without looking up. He pulled a handkerchief out from the pocket of his jacket and handed it to her. ‘Dry your eyes. We will continue the examination some other time. Let me show you something special now.’
He fiddled with the latch of a rectangular box and opened the lid to reveal a collection of glass eyes: twenty orbs of different colours, each staring in a different direction. He lifted one out and placed it in Anna’s palm.
‘They are far superior to manufactured glass eyes. I have someone who crafts them for me by hand.’ He was smiling. He slid a large model of an eyeball towards her from the other side of the desk. ‘This one was made especially for me by Fraulein Schilling at the Puppetarium. Such exquisite detail.’ He rotated the specimen and poked his finger inside it. ‘Only one-sixth of your eye is visible to the outside world. See these muscles here? They work in pairs to pull the eyes in each direction. The ability to rotate your eyeball means you can keep your eyes firmly fixed on the horizon as you tilt your head. Important for focusing on your prey.’
Anna felt submerged underwater, the professor’s voice sounding distorted as he droned on, his face blurry.
He picked up a magnifying glass and started to examine a glistening eyeball that lay on a metal tray in front of him that Anna had not noticed until just now. ‘My students usually dissect bull’s eyes,’ he said, ‘but I am fortunate myself to have access to human eyes.’ He poked at it with the tip of a pair of scissors. ‘Fascinating, isn’t it?’
Anna looked on, intrigued, although she felt uneasy wondering where the eye had come from.
The professor’s concentration was broken by a knock at the door.
‘Enter!’
The butler ushered a visitor into the room. The woman had a pasty face and short, oily hair swept into a tight bun. Her pale eyes glinted under thick eyebrows, thin lips drawing a line across a squarish jaw.
‘Ah! My dearest Dr Magnussen.’ The professor eagerly made his way over to her, holding out his hand. ‘So glad you could make it. Good to see you. It’s been far too long.’
‘It has indeed. What a charming place you have here. And so close to everything.’
He led her over to a pair of leather couches, leaving Anna by the desk. They sat opposite each other, speaking in hushed tones as he filled two glasses with whisky. The visitor was fidgety, her fingers clawing alternatively at the pleat of her grey skirt and the buttoned-up collar of her white blouse. She stole occasional glances at Anna, who was feeling better and had gone back to scanning the rows of musty, leather-bound books lining the shelves, trying to avoid looking at the eye on the desk. The adults’ voices droned in the background. She looked at miniature ornaments, bronze statues, muted paintings of sailing ships, a silver candelabra beside a photo of a young girl with a huge bow in her hair. Boredom slowly encroached.
‘The rabbits have been breeding very well.’
Anna’s ears pricked up.
‘That is excellent news, Herr Professor,’ the woman lowered her voice to a soft purr. ‘I have found a title for my research paper: The Influence of the Colour Gene on the Development of Pigment in the Eyes of the Rabbit.’
Anna knocked over the model of the eye she had been looking at. It cracked neatly in two, a rogue shard of clay ricocheting under the desk. The adults were so engrossed in conversation, they didn’t seem to notice.
‘As I explained in my letter, I already have keen interest in this project from my colleagues at the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute.’ The doctor leaned forward in her chair. ‘Also, our National Socialist Workers’ Party has been very supportive. They understand more than most how crucial this work is, and grasp its potential applications. It is highly relevant to our times, the preservation of the German nation: the very question of which races and peoples should live in future Europe.’
Anna scrambled to fit the pieces of the model back together and return it to the shelf, hoping the professor wouldn’t notice the crack.
Dr Magnussen’s voice became shrill. ‘The Jewish Question is one of our core problems. The Jew, who enjoys hospitality in this wonderful country, is our enemy. None of this can be simply solved by their emigration. We have seen that these types will only create unrest elsewhere and incite other people against each other.’
‘I do acknowledge that certain diseases cannot be overcome without surgery,’ the professor said.
‘You cannot deny this, even though I myself abhor the knife.’
Anna pulled out another book from the shelf and was pretending to read Lalka a story. At that precise moment, Professor Jäger turned his attention to her again. Papa’s boss may be a very famous eye surgeon, but the way he seemed to stare right inside her made her wonder if he could also read minds.
‘Come over here, my dear.’ He patted the cushion beside him. ‘And bring that book with you.’
She walked across to him and sat down.
He opened the cover. ‘Ah! Augendienst. Good choice of reading, my dearest. This is the first textbook of ophthalmology, written back in the 1500s.’ He turned to his guest. ‘You see, Dr Magnussen, this one already shows an interest in the study of eyes.’
The visitor crossed her legs.
‘Let me introduce you to our little Anna. The poor child’s mother died not long ago, so I have invited her to join us here on weekends. Her father, Gustav, is my very loyal driver. The man is devastated over his loss.’
The woman leaned across to Anna. ‘I can see how much you love playing with your doll.’
‘Yes.’
‘May I ask what her name is?’
Anna turned Lalka to face away from the woman. ‘Lali.’
‘She looks very much like you, you know. Would you like to introduce us?’
No, she would not.
The woman held out her hand. ‘She’s an unusual little thing, isn’t she?’
It wasn’t clear if she meant Anna or her doll.
‘She has such interesting eyes. They are different colours, just like yours. May I?’
The woman reached across and tried to grab Lalka away from her, but Anna held on tightly.
‘Wouldn’t you like her to have two beautiful blue eyes? We could easily fix the faulty one with some magic drops.’ She winked at the professor and whispered, ‘Adrenaline works wonders on eye colour.’
He leaned back and stretched his legs.
She looked across at Anna again. ‘Lali. What a strange name to choose for a doll. Why don’t we change it to a good, solid German name, like Helga – or maybe Gerda?’
At that moment the clock sounded twelve, followed by a knock at the door.
‘Yes?’ The professor finished what was left in his glass.
A maid came in and stood before them.
‘Lunch will be served shortly.’ She spoke softly.
Lalka’s introduction to the lady doctor was soon forgotten.
‘Have you lost your voice, Gisela?’ Professor Jäger said dryly.
The young woman’s cheeks turned red.
‘I seem to spend my life nowadays telling my servants how to do their jobs,’ the professor said.
His visitor laughed politely.
‘But you are different, Dr Magnussen. A hard-working and honest woman. What I like most about you is that you don’t harbour any fear. Shall we have another?’ He poured some more whisky.
It was Dr Magnussen’s turn to blush as they clinked glasses.
‘Prost!’
He waved at Anna. ‘Run along now, my dear child. I will be dining with my colleague today. You may go join your Papa. I believe he has some errands to run at the Puppetarium after lunch.’
Anna left the room, hugging Lalka. She stood in the hallway, trying to listen in on what they were saying. Were they talking about her? The woman had been staring at her in such a strange way.
The professor spoke loudly. ‘Dr Magnussen, like me, you are a doctor of the highest integrity and I know I can trust you wholeheartedly.’
‘Of course. I am at your service, professor. The child will be an invaluable asset to our project.’
‘Thank you. I do look very much forward to collaborating with you on this study.’
‘What will you tell her father?’
‘Don’t worry. You can leave all that to me. I will take care of it. As I said, Gustav is devoted to me.’
‘Yes. But he sees everything – it’s those I trust the least.’
On her way back to the dining room the maid brushed past Anna, who had tucked herself in behind a coat stand. Taking shallow breaths, Anna stayed perfectly still until she heard the woman’s footsteps disappear down the hallway. Just as she was about to sneak out of her hiding place and run up to her room, she heard someone open the front door and make their way towards the study. There was a knock, and the professor called from inside: ‘Enter!’
Anna peeked out from between the coats. The gardener stood there just long enough for her to catch a glimpse of a familiar jar he held tucked under his arm. It was filled with tiny rabbits’ eyeballs.