Thank God she had managed to get that much at least.
He was still holding tight to her documents, looking from the photograph to her and back again, like a slowly swooping searchlight.
‘Your permit to leave Berlin?’
She handed it over. It felt as flimsy as tissue.
‘Mama.’ Lottie’s whimper held the threat of a scream.
‘My daughter is afraid; she isn’t used to such intrusions. Let me calm her.’
She should have been more deferential. The officer’s hand whipped out and snaked round her wrist.
‘Take off your hat.’
‘My hair, it isn’t as clean as I’d like it…’
He ripped the flimsy straw away, leaving her dark roots and washed-out blonde streaks exposed, and flung it on the floor.
‘And another lie. Like your papers are lies. And no doubt this tale about your hero husband. Do you really think we are so easily fooled? What are you? A Jew? What is your name? Do not waste my time with the one printed here.’ Her torn-up papers followed the hat.
Lottie had started to sob, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
Fight back, keep her safe.
Liese faced him as squarely as she could.
‘I don’t know what you mean. My documents are old, perhaps, and a little faded. But they are genuine, I assure you.’
‘You assure me?’ His hand was at her throat before she saw him move. ‘How clever you think you are with your dyed hair and your stolen name.’ He squeezed. ‘Stick to your story if you want. I can kill you as easily here as anywhere else. Then I can kill your daughter.’ He relaxed his grip a little. ‘Or perhaps I could kill her first?’
Liese had never seen anything as terrifying as her attacker’s slow smile.
‘No! Leave her alone. Don’t touch her.’
He lowered his hand. ‘Then tell me your name.’
‘Liese.’ She paused. ‘Liese Sara Elfmann.’
‘So, a Jew. How observant your neighbours are. And the child? Is her father a Jew as well?’
‘Her father is a Frenchman.’
‘So, a whore as well as a liar and a Jew. What a delightful combination.’
Outside the open door, the hallway was filling up. Shapes shuffled by, some of them weeping.
‘Time for you to join the rest of the scum. Move.’
She hesitated; he drew out his gun. She glanced at the table, but the knife was too far away; the gun was too close. Keeping an eye on the soldier, Liese picked up the case and reached out for Lottie.
‘Come on now, sweetheart. It’s time to go.’
But Lottie curled up tighter and wouldn’t budge. ‘No. Don’t like him. Want—’
Liese ran and scooped her up before the name spilled, ignoring the child’s furious kicking.
‘Move. I won’t tell you twice. And I will shoot her first.’
Liese wrapped Lottie into her coat as the gun barrel swivelled.
‘We have to do what he says. There’s nothing to be scared of. Hold tight to Dolly.’
She followed the pointing gun out of the room into the hall, where the snaking line shuffling down the stairs put an end to Lottie’s thrashing. The child shrank into Liese, the rag doll pinned against her chest, her thumb jammed in her mouth. Liese murmured soothing noises into her daughter’s hair and wondered which of them she was doing it for.
The pavement they were forced onto was packed, other apartment blocks emptying out with the same rifle-driven speed. Liese scanned the street for a place to run and hide, but every corner and alleyway was blocked.
‘Onto the trucks. Men to the left, women and children to the right.’
Soldiers were lined up the full length of the pavement, a number of them holding snarling dogs on the end of chains that were so long the animals were within snapping distance of coats and skirts. Lottie squealed at the barking and turned rigid.
‘They’re just dogs; they won’t hurt you.’
The beasts’ bared teeth made a lie of that.
There was no time to invent a calming story; there was no time to do anything but what they were told. Liese kept Lottie’s head pressed into her shoulder as they scrambled onto the truck. When she leaned out to ask for someone to pass up her suitcase, a soldier kicked it away. Liese refused to think about that; she refused to think about anything beyond keeping Lottie quiet and not drawing attention. She found a space and lifted Lottie’s chin up to look at her.
‘It’s an adventure, monkey, that’s all, like in the fairy stories I’ve told you. Do you remember Little Red Riding Hood and Snow White? How brave they had to be at the start, when the wolf and the queen were naughty? And how well it turned out for them both in the end?’
Her voice was too high-pitched; she was talking too fast. She wasn’t surprised when someone told her to shut up.
‘Where are we going?’
The truck roared away; no one answered. The lorry’s tarpaulin had come down with a slam that had turned the vehicle’s interior as dark as night and cut the outside away as if a knife had sliced through it. Lottie was sobbing, but not like a child. Her tears were silent things that pooled across Liese’s neck like a stain.
‘Come on now, sweetheart. Nothing’s worth all these tears. I’ve got you. Nothing bad’s going to happen.’
Another assurance she couldn’t guarantee, with as much substance as every other promise that there would be more food, that there wouldn’t be any more running and any more houses that she had wrapped so uselessly round her daughter.
Like every promise Michael showered on me? Liese couldn’t think about that; she couldn’t think about anything, except staying strong for Lottie.
‘Look at me, monkey.’
She pressed her nose so close to Lottie’s that their hair fell round them like curtains. Promises were all she had to offer, so she would keep on making them.
‘This will be done soon and then, when it is, I’ll make everything right. We’ll go to the big house like Michael said we would and there’ll be cake for tea and ice cream and a new dress for Dolly. Does that sound good? Is that something you’d like?’
Lottie gulped and nodded, her eyes closing as Liese rocked her.
I can’t do this. I’m only twenty-three; I’m not old enough for this. I can’t make this all right. Liese gulped back a sob. An arm eased out in the darkness, and Liese found her own head nestled against a warm motherly shoulder.
She turned into it, for a moment, and let herself, very briefly, cry.
Hertie.
Its arches and gleaming windows were unmistakeable, even in the scant minute Liese had to peer at her surroundings as she lifted Lottie from the truck.
Hertie, which meant Alexanderplatz, which meant…
‘Line up. Three-wide. Move.’
The Alex. The Red Castle. The headquarters of the Berlin Police.
Liese clutched her saucer-eyed daughter and tried not to shiver as the vivid red bricks and squat squared-off tower loomed over them. Maybe Michael would guess where they were and come. Then she remembered the night of Otto’s arrest and her advice and knew it was hopeless. Michael would risk his own life for her, she knew that instinctively, but he was bound too tight with the resistance to risk all the rest his capture would mean.
‘Round the back. Move.’
They were herded, half-running, through a door that was wide and domed and high enough to admit a carriage. Liese lurched as paving stones gave way to slick and greasy cobbles. Lottie’s arms clung limpet-tight. There was no chance of an escape, although she kept looking; there were too many guns. Barely a dozen steps and they were across the deserted courtyard and through a second, narrower doorway which led them into a corridor whose heavy wooden panelling ate up the light. Guards streamed in front of the women, slamming open the green metal doors that marched down both sides of the hall.
‘Inside. Inside.’
They chopped up the column, sending women whirling left and right. The room Liese was pushed into was da
rk and stank of unwashed bodies.
‘Come over here. There’s a few inches left.’
It was a cell. Liese tried to stay with room but couldn’t make the word stick even inside her own head. Tiled walls, bodies curled on a plain stone floor; one watery bulb dripping out a thin yellow circle.
Liese followed the calling voice to the furthest corner and slid down into the gap that was offered, making herself into a softness for Lottie. Within minutes, she could feel herself bruising.
‘It’s not the easiest place to push through when you’re balancing a child.’
The woman’s voice had the texture of gravel.
‘Do you have a cup?’
‘What? A cup? No. I don’t have anything. I had a case but…’
Liese was too worn out to dredge up anything more. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, the cell’s occupants assumed more definite shapes. Women, a scant handful of children. All of them still. If they closed their eyes, they would turn into corpses.
‘Don’t.’
Liese gasped as a hand caught her chin and pulled her round. The woman was younger than her voice suggested, although her face was stretched and haggard.
‘You need to stay calm and focus on getting through. Most of us have been here for days, which is why we look so feeble. What day is it?’
‘Thursday.’
‘That’s what I thought, although so little changes in here it was hard to be sure. Well, that’s good news for you. From what we can make out, the transports from here leave on a Friday. All you’ve got to survive is one night. That’s doable, right?’
Liese managed a nod.
‘Good girl.’
The woman released her grip and rummaged under her skirt.
‘Here. I’ve got a spare cup. Don’t ask me how. They bring us water at midday, usually more at night. And bread, which is always stale, but it’s edible. Most of us give a bit of our piece to the children.’
Liese shifted Lottie more securely onto her lap. The child’s eyes were closed, but her breathing was too quick for her to be sleeping.
The woman snaked out her hand again as Liese tried to look into her daughter’s face.
‘Let her be. You can’t explain this; she doesn’t need you to try.’
It was advice Liese was more than willing to take.
‘You said they’d move us tomorrow. Where do we go?’
The woman eased her back against the icy tiles and groaned.
‘A labour camp. Rumours I heard before I was fool enough to end up here suggest the most likely one is Ravensbrück. It’s not so far from the city and it’s for women and children only, so maybe it won’t be too bad.’ She nodded at Lottie. ‘You should follow her lead. Close your eyes. Sleep, if you can; save your strength. When they want you to move, they don’t wait around.’
She didn’t speak to Liese again and nor did anyone else.
The crowded cell stayed quiet, the noise never rising above a murmur, even when the meagre bread and dusty water came. Liese whispered nursery rhymes to Lottie, trying to wrap the little girl inside the familiar rhythms of Hoppe, hoppe Reiter and Eins, Zwei, Papagei; the ones Minnie had sung to her long ago. Lottie remained silent or hid behind sleep. Liese dozed in and out of dreams that were as bad as being awake, filled with images of her parents walking away and Michael forgetting her.
When the door crashed open, she – and everyone else – jumped.
‘On your feet. If your name is called, answer yes and move into the corridor.’
The list ran so quickly, Liese almost missed them when hers and Lottie’s names rang out.
‘Wet, Mama.’ Lottie’s face crumpled.
‘It’s not your fault. It doesn’t matter.’
Liese pulled the child’s soaked knickers away and turned her cardigan into a towel. Lottie had recoiled in horror from the communal pail that desperation had made Liese use, and Liese hadn’t had the heart to force her.
‘There, all good again. When we get where we’re going, there’ll be new clothes, I’m sure of it.’
She wasn’t sure of anything. The name Ravensbrück meant nothing. The word camp had too many meanings to contemplate. As to why cowed women and huddled children were seen as a threat that needed locking away, she couldn’t think of anything that made sense of that.
‘Line up. Three-wide. Move.’
The same orders as before, but a faster speed demanded from the stumbling prisoners than on the journey in. The column ran double-time back through the corridor and into the courtyard. It was dark, the stars still visible; it was impossible to tell if it was early in the morning or late at night. Trucks waited by the outer door, their engines growling. The women scrambled on, urging the children to move quicker as the guards hurled orders around them.
The journey through the city was too fast to take a bearing. The station platform they landed on was too packed to see a name. The train they were herded onto was so crowded, Lottie was pressed into Liese with barely a space to breathe. Everything moved so quickly, all Liese could do was obey. There were no seats. There were no spaces between the women standing shoulder to shoulder, shrinking away from contact or propping each other up. There were no windows low enough or wide enough to see a chink of the sky. The air hung sour with sweat and the ammonia stink of fear.
Liese braced her feet, braced Lottie against her shoulder. She wriggled up her arm until her watch was visible, counted one hour, then another. The train rumbled and belched out smoke, which seeped into the carriage and covered the women with polka-dot smuts. When the engine finally shuddered to a halt and the doors sprung open, bodies toppled out like bricks.
‘Hold tight, monkey. Don’t let go of me.’
The words didn’t need saying. Lottie’s fingers bit through Liese’s skin.
More trucks were lined up, waiting. The women were ringed by soldiers; any movement away from the crush was impossible. Liese caught glimpses of a cloudless cornflower sky. The fruity scent of pine set her nose twitching.
‘Get down. Five-wide. Form up.’
Five this time, not three. A new number to shuffle them with.
The women formed into lines, their mouths silently counting along the rows. The guns were too close to risk a mistake.
‘Put the children down. Tell them to walk.’
Liese was stranded too visibly at the column’s edge. She tried to swap places, to wriggle in towards the centre and a foot or two of safety. A rifle butt shoved her forward before she could slide in.
‘Children down. If I have to repeat that, I shoot.’
‘You heard what he said, monkey. You have to walk.’
‘No. Can’t. Too tired.’
Liese stifled a cry as the rifle cocked.
‘Do as you’re told. No more arguing.’
Fear made her voice harsh.
Lottie’s eyes filled with tears. Liese wished that she could swallow the words back. That she could bend down, whisper that she was sorry. Explain that her sounding cross was just part of this strange game they were all playing, but the soldiers were shouting and the column was marching and it was all she could do to keep Lottie upright.
I’ll say it later. I’ll cuddle the darkness away, as soon as she’s safe.
The shouting throttled up again, harsh cries to move, to be quicker, pushing the prisoners down a cobbled road, past a row of balconied houses perched high on a hill and a forest of fir trees that smelled like Christmas. They were marched so fast, Lottie was almost flying, her wrist locked in Liese’s hand.
‘Eyes forward, mouths shut.’
Whips cracked along the lines. Lottie stumbled on, no longer sobbing, although her whole body was shaking. Liese kept pulling and didn’t dare look down.
‘Stop.’
The ground softened, took on the powdery feel of sand. Liese took a breath that tasted as fresh as spring rain, lifted her head and almost laughed. The setting was picture-postcard perfect, a holiday scene.
A lake stretched ou
t only feet away from where the women had been herded, its placid water a mirror of the morning’s blue sky. Linden trees edged the high wall they were standing near and softened the camp’s metal gates with velvety green. Liese could see banks of red flowers nodding their way along the neatly laid road that stretched out on the other side.
Hope inched its way back. Liese smiled at the woman shivering next to her. Heads rose across the tightly packed column. The smile passed tentatively on.
Liese loosened her grip on Lottie’s wrist, kept her back straight and bent her knees so she could slip a hand round her daughter’s tiny shoulders.
‘Lottie, look: it’s pretty. There’s flowers and a lake you might be able to paddle in.’
Other whispers followed hers, spreading out like ripples.
‘No talking!’
Not a man’s voice anymore – a woman’s, sharp and strident.
In the relief of being in a gentler landscape than anyone expected, someone didn’t hear, or didn’t obey quickly enough. A hand shot out, cracked hard against skin. Another voice screamed; the next slap rang harder.
Guards fanned out and began striding down the rows. Not soldiers but a troop of almost identical blonde women, made thickset and solid by square caps and wide-shouldered black capes. They didn’t have guns, but they had whips they sent flying. One sliced through the air a foot away and crashed Lottie into Liese’s legs.
‘Noses to the front.’
The guards began carving the packed crowd ahead of them into slices, forcing their shaking captives in tight columns through the gates. Liese saw a girl stumble; saw another fall under a thick fist as she kneeled down to help. The air grew dark with sobs and slaps and the discordant screeching of ‘bitches’.
Lottie’s hand shot back into Liese’s and set rigid and clawlike.
Liese ached to scoop her up, to press the white face hard into her shoulder and make a shield against the cruelty unfolding with such malevolent speed.
As they drew nearer the gates, the guards’ excitement flared. A whip tore open a cheek a few paces in front; a kick levelled a woman who’d fallen out of line. The slightest movement or whimper, one step’s hesitation, and they pounced like jubilant tigers. There was no time to think, no time to do anything other than stay in line and follow the hailstorm of orders.
What Only We Know: A heart-wrenching and unforgettable World War 2 historical novel Page 18