The journey was long and tiring. Freddie drifted in and out of sleep never knowing where they were or what would happen next. There were planes, he had lost count how many, and cars and the men did not speak to him. But Natalie was always close by, and that pacified him, and he took comfort from her closeness.
‘Everything will be okay,’ she reassured him repeatedly, and he wanted to believe her. All he could think of was his mother, and he knew she would worry. It was like a festering wound. Natalie insisted the people who had taken him were friends, but real friends would not do that. She attempted to soothe his fears by repeating it was ‘for maman’s sake’, and if he did as he was told the sooner they would be together.
It was dark when they arrived at the compound with his nose pressed hard against the window. He found it difficult to understand what was happening. Soldiers with rifles stopped them at a gate and checked their papers. Floodlights illuminated tall fences, and dogs barked. A large house blazed with lights, yet he saw only Natalie and the men in the car. Taken to a bedroom, he was relieved she had the next room. She left the adjoining door ajar so he could call her if need be. Over a light supper, she explained that tomorrow he would meet people who were looking forward to seeing him. Afterwards, the luxury of the first bed in several days helped him drift off into a deep sleep full of vivid dreams.
Natalie awakened him next morning when she pulled back the curtains and flooded the room with sharp sunlight, making him squint. Outside, grass, burned brown in places, stretched to wire fences about fifty yards away.
‘What’s happening?’ he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
She turned with a warm smile that she rarely used, but he loved when she did. ‘First, you must take a bath then we’ll have breakfast on the terrace.’ She waved a hand in the direction of the window. ‘When you’re ready, you need to change into those clothes.’ Laid out on the bottom of the bed were a shirt and shorts, not his.
During the meal, a plump little woman served them. She fussed around and brought a plate of food and waited with her head cocked to one side until he had taken a mouthful. Once satisfied, she scuttled away to prepare another dish. He heard cars and trucks but saw nothing. After eating he was eager to explore, but a man in a white jacket and black tie came and spoke to Natalie. The more he talked, the graver her face became, but she said nothing, just listened and nodded. When he departed, she sighed and, as if gathering an inner strength, lifted her shoulders and straightened.
‘Okay, let’s go and say hello. They are friends of maman, and they want to meet you.’ She winked at him and took his head in both hands, kissing him on the forehead.
‘Let’s see now,’ she said, checking his attire of a tan, long-sleeved shirt, black shorts, white knee-length socks, and brown shoes. She tried to put a rolled black neckerchief with a woggle around his neck but gave up when she was unable to get it right. It reminded him of his mother doing the same on his first day at school in Shetland.
‘The clothes fit you perfectly, but, ah.’ She pushed back an errant lock of his brown hair that had fallen onto his forehead. ‘It’s in your eyes; we can’t have that.’ Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a comb and ran it through his hair. ‘Ah,’ she accepted with a tut when the lock fell back. ‘That’ll have to do.’
She showed him into a large, gloomy room made all the more so by the dark wood panelling and the heavy mahogany furniture. He sensed she was nervous, standing aside to usher him in with a gentle push when he hesitated. Two men waited. At first, they did not speak but watched him, making him uncomfortable. Grown-ups were sometimes like that as if unused to speaking to children, but this was different. They were observing and appraising him. He scanned the space. Sunshine seemed unable to penetrate here. It was like a library. Piles of paper and folders and books lay on a big desk, and he thought they must be untidy. At school on Shetland, his teacher told him a tidy desk meant a tidy mind although he wasn’t sure what that meant. Across from the desk, firewood was set in a fireplace but was unlit. And he wondered why they needed a fire in such a hot place. Not like the croft where fire was necessary for survival. Furled red and black flags stood on either side of the fireplace, and in the centre above the mantelpiece a man in uniform stared out from a painting. Familiar but frightening. Unsmiling, with lips shut tight and cold lifeless eyes. The pose was supposed to be imperious, he guessed. An Iron Cross pinned to the left breast of a mustard coloured safari jacket. A red armband with a black swastika on a white background wrapped around his left arm. The man’s dark hair flopped on his forehead, and a small black moustache resembled a smudge. His right hand held a wooden chair with his left placed incongruously on his hip. The pose of a showgirl. He sniggered but stopped when they glowered at him. He moved away from the painting, yet the subject’s stare seemed to follow.
They hadn’t spoken, instead smiling at him and each other in a conspiratorial way. Did they expect him to speak? The one sat behind the desk cleared his throat. And he paid attention for the first time.
‘Hello,’ he said, feeling nervous.
The one he reckoned to be the more senior rolled a cigarette between his fingers and stared at him. He had piercing eyes and a turned-down, thin-lipped mouth. The other stood just behind and seemed nervous although he was more normal with a full head of dark-brown hair and a luxuriant moustache. Both wore lightweight suits, and each had an identical metal badge on the left lapel of their jackets.
Still, they said nothing, and he wondered what they expected of him. A song or dance, maybe. Instead, he wandered around the room, anything other than meet their gaze.
‘Hello, Freddie,’ the senior man broke the silence at last. ‘Willkommen to your new home.’
Unsure, he glanced at Natalie who tried to reassure him with a smile. How could this be home without maman? Emboldened, he approached the desk. They almost shrank and stared, both glancing at each other affirming something they had obviously discussed. And he thought they looked smug like card players with a winning hand.
Unable to think of anything else to say, he asked: ‘Are you Germans?’
‘Sprechen sie Deutsch, Freddie?’ the man behind the desk said, his voice weaker than his stature suggested.
‘We beat the Jerries in the war, don’t you know.’ He had learned the odd German word from Alena and remembered the language from their imprisonment at the castle. It brought back unpleasant memories.
One of the Germans laughed, and it was as sharp as the crack of a whip.
‘And I can speak French, too. My maman is French, don’t you know.’
The man grimaced, and he realised it was an attempt at a smile. ‘My name is Heinrich Müller, and I am proud to be German.’ He pointed to his colleague. ‘And this is Dr Josef Mengele, my friend.’ Mengele smirked.
‘I do not want to fill your head with information. What you must understand is that we are here to help you. You have a promising future. You will become a powerful man.’
‘Don’t want to stay here.’ He turned, appealing to Natalie. ‘I want maman.’
She stepped forward and took his hand. ‘We must stay here, it’s the same as school. Then maman will come and collect you.’
‘But I don’t like it here.’
The men’s faces showed irritation. ‘Your mother will soon be here,’ Müller said. ‘Until she comes, Natalie will keep you company.’
‘I’ll take care of you, Freddie.’ She made an effort to pacify him. ‘I won’t leave you.’
When she smiled, he always felt better.
‘You will learn so many things here,’ Mengele said in a soft, sibilant voice that he imagined a snake would sound like if it could talk.
‘Then tell me, who is that?’ He pointed a finger at the painting. ‘Is he famous?’
Müller leant back in his chair and put both hands together as if about to share a secret and then thought better of it. ‘He was a great man. Perhaps the greatest the world has known.’
‘Even greater than Winston Churchill?’
Their acid look made him want to run from the room, but Natalie held his hand tight.
Mengele stepped out and took hold of him by the shoulders, and he wriggled as the man’s fingers pinched so hard it hurt. ‘Much greater than Churchill, yes. The man in the picture had ideas ahead of his time and his plan to rid the world of–’ He stopped and regained control. ‘One day, you will continue his work, and the whole world will realise we are–’
‘Herr Doctor.’ Müller’s words sounded like a warning.
As if contaminated, Mengele straightened up and dropped his hands, giving Freddie a tortured grimace before resuming his position beside Müller.
‘I want to see maman now,’ Freddie said, his voice wavering as he sensed the atmosphere becoming more menacing.
‘She’s on her way here.’ Müller turned to Natalie and added: ‘Take the boy out and see he has everything he needs.’
Natalie put an arm around his shoulder as she led him to the door. As they left, he heard Müller say to the doctor. ‘Perfekt.’