‘Rinse and spit out’
‘Rinse and spit out,’ said Dr Volkmann. ‘Don’t eat on that side for an hour or two. I’ll need to see you one more time.’ He pressed the foot pedal, and the dentist’s chair slowly resumed the upright position.
‘Thank you,’ said Peter Winter. He washed out his mouth and wiped his lips.
‘You can go, Ursula,’ Volkmann told his nurse.
‘Thank you, Herr Doktor.’
When they heard the outer door close after her, Isaac Volkmann said, ‘Her mother’s sick, and I have no more patients this afternoon.’
Peter looked at the clock. It was only three-fifteen.
Volkmann said, ‘I’ve lost a lot of patients over the last six months. I’m seriously considering whether I should move out of the Ku-damm area.’
‘But your sort of patients expect to come here, to a smart address.’
‘The radio, film and theatre crowd, you mean? I’m afraid I’ve already lost a lot of those.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Peter.
‘I don’t exactly blame them,’ said Volkmann. ‘They depend on the Nazis for their living, and Goebbels is one of the worst anti-Semites of the lot. And now young Ursula has given notice. She’s been with me for over three years, but her father says he doesn’t want her working for a Jew.’
‘She’s lucky to have a job at all,’ said Peter.
‘She’ll get another job all right. The Nazis have reduced unemployment, Peter – we have to be fair about that.’
‘And how have they done it?’ said Peter. ‘By drafting men to work on the land or to build the Autobahnen. Or by giving them jobs working at the local Nazi Party office for little or no wages.’
‘I have to be thankful I’m not in the army or the civil service,’ said Volkmann, ‘or I’d be unemployed, too. At least they are allowing me to work.’
‘These people are mad,’ said Peter.
Volkmann smiled ruefully. ‘The funny thing is that in many ways I agree with this Hitler fellow. I am proud to be a German nationalist. I rescent every last clause of that damned Versailles Treaty. I, too, hate the communists, and despise the pseudo-intellectuals and their café-society Marxism. There are many ways in which I support Hitler; why must he pursue this insane vendetta against us?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Peter.
‘And shall I tell you something, Peter, old friend. When I switched on the radio last Saturday and heard that our soldiers had marched into the Rhineland, I exulted. He was right to take our sacred German soil back from the French.’
‘I suppose so,’ said Peter. He was always embarrassed when Isaac became emotional, as he so often did on the subject of his homeland.
‘And you are busy?’
Peter nodded. ‘We are hoping to get some contracts for coal by-products. It would make a great difference to next year’s shareholders’ report.’
‘What sort of by-products: oil?’
‘Yes, and now I. G. Farben have discovered how to make very good synthetic rubber, too.’
‘Is it cheap?’
‘No, thank goodness,’ said Peter, and laughed. ‘It’s damned expensive.’
‘So why don’t we buy rubber and oil on the world market?’
‘Germany has a lot of coal, Isaac. It will keep our miners employed.’
‘That’s not the reason, my friend, and you know it. This fellow is determined to fight a war.’
‘We must be ready to defend ourselves, Isaac. The Russians and Poles are not to be trusted.’
‘I hope to God I’m wrong,’ said Volkmann. ‘Oh, I almost forgot. I must return Lottie’s passport.’
‘Lottie’s passport?’
Volkmann had already reached it from where it was hidden in his locked drugs cabinet before he looked up and registered Peter’s surprise. ‘Oh dear! Didn’t you know?’
‘What? What’s it all about, Isaac?’
Volkmann stood uncertain whether to hand him the package. ‘I would hate to be the cause of a disagreement between you, Peter. You are our best and most loyal friends.’
‘What are you doing with Lottie’s U.S. passport, Isaac?’
Again the dentist hesitated, but decided that he had no choice but to tell everything. ‘Your wife loaned her passport to a friend of mine. We have been looking at the visas in it.’
‘Don’t talk in riddles, Isaac. You mean you’ve been copying the visas to make forgeries?’
‘Yes, that is what I mean, Peter. I thought you knew about it. I suppose it must come as a shock to you.’
‘And forging U.S. passports, too?’
‘Some of my people are desperate, Peter. Terrible things are happening in this country of ours.’
‘You’ve no right to put my wife in danger.’
‘I didn’t put her in danger. Lottie insisted that her passport be used, and as a Jew she has the right to decide such things.’
‘She is my wife, and we have a young child. What would happen if . . .’
‘I know, I know . . .’
‘You should not have encouraged her.’
‘I did everything I could to dissuade her, Peter. Everything! I swear I did. I thought she must have discussed it with you.’
‘And you should not be mixed up in such activity, Isaac. These people are criminals and you are an accessory.’
‘Do not quote the letter of the law, my friend, when justice lies bleeding at my feet.’
‘For such things people go to prison for life, Isaac.’
‘For the sin of being born a Jew, people are being done to death. Should I shun my duty as a Jew, to serve a regime that is murdering my people?’
Peter took the passport and put it into his pocket. ‘Please, Isaac. No more. She is a Jew, but she is also my wife.’
Isaac Volkmann did not give Peter Winter the assurance he sought. ‘Shall we say next Tuesday at 2.30 p.m.? It gives you a chance to lunch. There is very little to do except scaling, but I’d like to look again.’
‘That will be very convenient,’ said Peter. He took his hat and gloves from the stand in the hall. Volkmann followed him to see him out.
‘Your wife is a very determined woman, Peter,’ he said.
‘Next week, then,’ said Peter. He nodded to Volkmann and departed. Usually he shook hands when he said goodbye, but today he didn’t; and he didn’t say goodbye, either.