Chapter Thirty-Two

 

STEVEN WAS CALLED AWAY SUDDENLY INTO EDINBURGH and he left me a note to say that he would telephone me as soon as he could, after he arrived. Freya seemed more tired than usual after the departure of my nephew from Glencara and I tried to coax her back into the person she was whilst he was here, which was a total transformation from her usual gruff and offensive self, but she would have none of it. I knew it would be useless to ask her if she missed Anton or Gideon ...that would only heap petrol on the fire ...but she was distressing me too in her lethargic state as I wanted to get on with my own life and relegate the pleasant memories of the recent past to my inner mind for the times when I knew I would inevitably be down and then I could draw on the pleasure and happiness I received from Robbie’s visit. I missed him, more than I ever thought possible and I didn’t even consider that to be strange, even if he was my nephew and I had only known him in the short few months since mother died.

I made every effort to get Freya to settle down, although she was loathe even to try to sleep, but I was anxious to get some time where I could phone Stella and inform her of Robbie’s departure and give her some idea of when to expect him home. I also wanted to warn her of the invasion of Anton and Gideon.

It was nearly ten thirty when I got back to my room after having performed the usual morning functions for Freya and I settled down to make my call. I had thoughts of the joy we all had from Robbie’s visit and I wanted to tell Stella of my deep concern about her hospital visit, which I gathered she would have had by that time and was probably awaiting the results with trepidation. I loved Stella. To me she was the epitome of the perfect woman, the perfect wife and mother and I envied her philosophy of life and her calm, smiling good nature. I had never seen her angry and I wished I had been born just like her. Perhaps if mother had not been so ill as she was during her lifetime, my own life might have taken a different path. Who knows ... I might have been Mrs. Archie Williamson with ten kids and a cat ... Oh! No, I don’t think I would have liked that ...you see, I’m not very fond of cats, so when I thought again, it was ten kids and a dog ...preferably a Boxer perhaps ...I thought but that was all a dream and here I was in the reality of Glencara with a stubborn, irreconcilable, moody child upstairs, who was determined to scowl from dawn till dusk and had sent her smiles for a long walk.

I telephoned Stella and then I wrote her a letter to confirm all that I said on the phone. AS ALWAYS, I WOULD HAVE TO OBEY THE WIND ... “Hello Stella ...It’s me.”

I wrote, wording each syllable as if to ensure that I missed nothing ...The clock struck eleven and I heard a faint tap on my door. I stopped writing to listen ... and after a few seconds, it came again. When I answered, Gerry stood wide-eyed in front of me, filling the doorway with his six foot three inch frame.

“Are you very busy?” he asked and I knew it was useless to tell him I was, realizing that he intended to continue his talk of the previous evening. I didn’t answer him, but I stood aside and opened the door wide, so that he could come in. “Thanks Amy. I’m making a complete hash of things, aren’t I?” he moaned as he skulked past me, “I mean ...with Anna and the boys. I feel as though I am a total stranger to them ...funny isn’t it … My own family too; my own flesh and blood and yet I feel this isolation ...this terrible loneliness.” I had experienced something of the same feeling when mother died, but I didn’t think the same reason applied to my circumstances, so I kept silent and waited whilst Gerry moved towards the chair by the window and nodded. “My I sit down please?” he asked and I was humbled. It was his house ...HIS MANSION. I was a servant and yet he was asking me if he could sit down ... I invited him to do so and drew my own chair from the bureau where I had been writing, to sit near him. He rubbed his fingers clumsily across his brow and swept his dark hair back from his forehead.

“My God ...I feel closer to Freya than I do to anyone else,” he muttered and laughed softly, but I still did not know how to answer his questions as his tale was so different from any other I had ever heard before, even if from the little he had told me in the past, I could understand his concern and his apathy towards his unfortunate niece. He stared out at the sky and down onto the lawn and I could hear the trees whispering in the strong wind that blew the grass into the ground with a vengeance, as it whistled along.

“There’s a storm brewing up, I think,” he said and rubbed his eye as if to remove a tear, but he wasn’t crying.

“Gerry, what did you mean when you said to me last night that you felt Anna held Freya responsible in some way for Francesca’s death?” I asked him and I knew my question was curt and to the point, but I had to know. His mouth tightened and a muscle on the side of his face flexed as he swallowed hard.

“Oh! I don’t mean directly responsible Amy ...we both know that could never be, but until Fransesca’s death, Anna has been very tolerant about Freya living with us ...and of course, I have always been pleased and grateful for that, because Freya is only Anna’s niece through marriage ...obviously, but lately since Francesa has gone and ...well, perhaps a little before that time too, Anna has been accusing me of paying more attention to Freya than I do to her or the boys. Maybe it’s women’s intuition. Maybe I was talking too much about Freya . . .but you know Amy ...how responsible I feel for that little girl and how can I explain that to Anna? She would never understand ...and why should she? That was a world of which she had no part ...thank God and I have always wanted to keep it that way.” There was a long silence before he spoke again, “I do feel responsible for Freya ...TOTALLY RESPONSIBLE ...and my shame will give me no peace.” He rubbed his eyes, tightening them as if to rid the thoughts from his mind. “I am responsible for that child Amy ...and yet, I haven’t been ... Amy, I can’t bear to look at her. Oh! Amy, please tell me you understand ...When I look at Freya ...even in the state she is in, I can see Trudie . . .and yet there is no resemblance ...none at all. I see the aura of Trudie surrounding the child’s face ...taunting me, sneering at me ... I feel so alone in my dilemma.”

I assured Gerry that I did understand and that I also knew how he felt the full responsibility for Freya being the way she was, but like everything else, it is so easy to know and judge in hindsight, what should have been done. Gerry turned his face away from me and with a steady voice, he spoke of his past.

“I killed her mother, Amy. I killed her so cruelly.” he said, “neither Anna nor the boys could ever understand the remorse I feel for that ...They would condemn me for the murderer I am. They should never be told. They should never feel any part of this guilt that is mine and mine alone. I won’t allow it.” The storm became wilder as he spoke and lightning flashed across the darkening sky as a rumble of thunder followed. “And I loved Trudie so much too,” he went on, “She was the brilliant one of the family …’Stella matutina’, my father used to call her, ‘A fresh star in the morning.’ The first star, I say ...the brightest in all the skies.”

“Gerry, please look at me … Look at me please?” I pleaded and he turned around again slowly. His eyes met mine, but his look was one of great sorrow and desolation. “Gerry, you didn’t actually see Trudie after she was sent to Treblinka. ...Could it not be that ... well, perhaps she is still alive?”

He stared at me with eyes blazing and burning with fear.

“She is dead, Amy ... She is dead, there is no doubt about that,” he said.

“But you can’t be absolutely sure ...Can you?”

His shoulders shook and his head went to one side.

“It was the report on my experiment ...My brilliant experiment which I received with such pride at my office in Berlin, that confirmed her death ...without the slightest doubt ...and I am glad ...I would have killed myself if she had lived to know the terror and the suffering I brought to her ...Her own brother and with these very hands.” He muttered and glared at his hands as he spoke. “A full report was sent to me ...ON MY ORDERS THAT IT SHOULD. The experiment was carried out with several virgin women and the imbeciles. There were thirteen women ...thirteen virgins like lambs to the slaughter on my command. Their names were printed on the document that was returned to my office in Berlin and to my horror and Trudie was fifth on that list. Oh! Trudie is dead alright, Amy.” I sat beside him, knowing that I could reassure him no more as he continued. “She went, like the others when the experiment was concluded and the babies were born. She went like the guinea-pig I made of her …into the ovens. She had served her noble purpose for the Third Reich.”

I gasped as I realized what Gerry had so calmly said. His face was drained ...white and without feeling and his mouth moved as though compelled by some force beyond his control.

“The report was merciless,” he went on, “Gertrude Steiger it read ...No ...No, Freulein Gertrude Irena Steiger, Number 50942, born 18th August 1924 ...yes, that was how she was described. There could only have been ONE Gertrude Irena Steiger born on that date. Only ONE with that number 50942 ...It is burned into my brain since I first heard it. ...She was an expendable item. She had been used and abused and was no longer required, so ‘ dispose’ ...Yes Amy, that was the word that was used. ‘DISPOS … DISPOSE” … he called out repeatedly and I had to restrain him so that no one else would hear. He cried as I held him close to me and I could feel his body tremble.

“I wish I could die,” he said, “I could never be happy ... never ...I can never love Anna as she deserves to be loved, nor my lovely children ...My dear, dear boys. I am so ashamed and I cannot endure this shame any longer.” He put his head in his hands and sobbed with uncontrollable grief and I wanted to do something ...ANYTHING, to make him feel better, but I realized the futility of anything I might even attempt to do. However, regardless of the logic, I reached out to touch his shoulder ...to let him know again that I was near, but I pulled back in my actions several times before I was finally able to touch him with my hand and assure him that I was there beside him. He withdrew immediately as if he had received an electric shock by my touch and threw his head back in the air, drawing in a deep breath, with his eyes tightly closed.

“I am dead, Amy. I am a dead man,” he moaned and stood up, pushing his hair back once more from his forehead. He sniffed, almost with complacency and I expected to see the tears of his aching sorrow, but his eyes, when he opened them, were dry and bright and I sensed he had arrived at some internal, mental conclusion regarding his past, which frightened me.

“Please Gerry ... Don’t do anything foolish ...please,” I pleaded as I touched his chest and ran my fingers against his throat. “I know how you feel. I really do, but I also know that Anna and the boys love you very much. You are not alone, no matter what you have done in the past. Everyone makes mistakes.” I said and I felt very strange, seemingly condoning the fact that a man had literally annihilated his own sister, but I was afraid of what Gerry would do if I acted otherwise as his grief and remorse was overwhelming. He smiled sardonically.

“Yes … Like pushing your own flesh and blood into a gas oven ...and watch as they scream and dance in a frenzy of despair, for that is literally what I did even if I sat in that office in Berlin, away from it all. I waited for the reports to come in; for the telephone calls that would confirm the results of that experiment. ... I should have been on my knees praying that Trudie …and the others would have a merciful and speedy release from their sufferings.”

“Gerry … please,”

“No ... I wasn’t there at Treblinka, Amy. ...That is true, but I see that picture in my mind, day after day, night after night, without respite. I see the boots ...the men’s boots ...dead men’s boots on her feet and they crack and blister in the heat and fall apart. I see her legs, only to the knees of course, as the rest of her body is engulfed in flames ... Legs; feet …That pas de seul ... the dance to the devil where her toes pirouette to entertain her guards as they stand by sneering. Another Jew pig for the roasting ... I am never allowed respite until I have seen it all. The whole scene has to be enacted until the last vibrating nerve quivers and comes to a halt in the peace of extinction.” Gerry mopped his brow with his handkerchief before he went on …”I scream sometimes, Amy. ...I scream ...begging that they should die quickly or my own heart will burst with pain. I have suffered death with my sister time and time again and I now have no longer the capacity of agony, for agony is only for the living and I tell you Amy. I am a dead man ...Dead …dead, do you hear me?”

I reached up and put my arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. It was cold. There was nothing else I could have done because my heart was breaking for him. I wanted to hold him in the warmth of my affection and understanding, knowing the risk that Anna could have come into the room at any moment and could well have misconstrued my intentions.

“Be strong Gerry ...for Anna and for the boys ... for Steven and me.” I whispered as I held his head in my hands and looked into his glazed, unseeing eyes ...and it was then I saw the tear fall. One large, thick tear that streamed from the corner of his eye and trickled down his cheek to meet his purple, twisted lips ...and I kissed it away. “Be strong …Be strong”… I pleaded.