4
The days turned to weeks, and still there was no news of Kurt. In many ways Ruth wished they had found some way to remain in Gerbergasse, where at least they would be surrounded by people they knew. There might be news of the men who had been taken the night of the riot; such news would spread swiftly through the neighbourhood. There might be news of Kurt.
Ruth had written to Frau Meyer to thank her for her kindness and to tell her that they had reached Herbert’s in safety She’d asked if anything had been heard of those arrested. The letter she received in reply did nothing to raise her spirits.
Dear Frau Friedman,
Thank you for your letter. I am glad you and the children are safe with your brother-in-law. You are certainly safer than you would be here. Terror stalks our streets now, and we walk in fear of our lives.
Herr Rosen came back the other day. He’s been held in some sort of camp. A place called Dachau. He says that all the men from here are being held there. The conditions there are very bad. He has been let out because he has agreed to leave Germany with his family and never return. He came to collect them, but they have had to leave everything behind. Everything except what they could put into one suitcase, and that was searched by the Gestapo to make sure they weren’t taking anything of value. They went three days ago, and already another family have moved into their apartment.
So far nothing has been done with your shop. Leo boarded up the door, but it remains a burnt-out shell.
If your husband comes here I will tell him where you are, but I shall not write to you again, and ask you not to write to me. Who can tell if the post is safe?
God bless you all,
L
There was no return address on the letter, nothing other than the single initial to identify the writer, but its content struck fear into Ruth’s heart. She had done the right thing moving the children out of the area; she could only pray that Kurt would soon be let out of this Dachau place, wherever it was, and be able to come for them. If it meant leaving Germany, Ruth wouldn’t mind. What was left for people like them here, after all? Encouraged by the government and orchestrated by the Gestapo, the persecution was getting worse, more frequent, the ways of degrading and humiliating Jews becoming more inventive, more brutal.
This isn’t how I want my children to live, Ruth thought as she read and re-read the letter. Better we leave now. But where, with no money, no possessions? America? England? Palestine? How can we go? What should we live on?
She would show the letter to Herbert when he got home that evening and see what he thought about it. Probably he would say that Leah Meyer was being alarmist. He still thought that Jews who kept their heads down were in no real danger. He had become less concerned about her and the children being in his home recently, now that she was so careful to do nothing more to draw attention to them. He even played with the children sometimes, in the evening when he came in. He genuinely had difficulty in telling the twins apart, and often called them by the wrong name, which sent them off into paroxysms of laughter, and once he discovered that he could make them laugh, he found that he enjoyed doing so. One day he had come home with a present for each of them; soft toy rabbits dressed in striped trousers for the twins, some crayons for Inge and a book for Laura. The delight on the children’s faces as they opened the parcels was mirrored in his own, and Ruth could see he was becoming genuinely fond of them.
This evening, however, he came home late, well after the children were in bed, and at once Ruth could see that something was wrong. He seemed to have aged ten years since the morning. He looked pale, his skin, the colour of parchment, seemed more tightly drawn over his cheekbones. His shoulders sagged and his whole body seemed to have shrunk. Only his eyes gleamed, and they gleamed not with life, but with fear, continually darting in all directions as if he expected an attack.
“Herbert? Are you all right? What’s happened?”
For answer he simply shook his head and sank down into his armchair, burying his head in his hands.
“Herbert?” Ruth waited, but it was some time before her brother-in-law looked up at her, his eyes wide with fear and disbelief.
“Herr Durst,” he said. “Herr Durst has left.”
Ruth knew that Herbert thought the light of day shone out of Herr Jacob Durst, the senior partner. She had often had to listen to Herbert extolling the abilities, the intellect, the steadfast character of Herr Durst, the mainstay of the firm.
“Left? Left the office?”
“They’ve thrown him out!”
“Thrown him out? Who’s thrown him out?”
“The other partners.”
“The other partners? Why? Why would they do that?”
“The firm was losing clients,” replied Herbert wearily. “Nobody wants a Jewish lawyer anymore. Just having his name on the letterheads has made the clients look elsewhere.”
“So, what’s going to happen?” asked Ruth.
“It’s already happened,” Herbert said. “They had a meeting today… without him, and after it they called him in and told him to leave… there and then. To leave everything in his desk and his files… everything. When he went back to the office for his coat, his desktop was clear… there was nothing on it, except the photograph of his wife and daughters stuffed into a brown paper bag.”
“And he just accepted this? It was his firm; you told me he founded the firm.” Ruth was incredulous. “And he let them simply throw him out?”
Herbert let out a shuddering sigh. “What else could he do? Wait to be manhandled out of the building? They were already changing the locks on the doors as I followed him out.”
“You followed him out?” repeated Ruth.
Herbert gave a mirthless laugh. “You don’t think they’d keep me on once he’d gone, do you? I was at my desk as he passed my door, and within two minutes Herr Hartmann was in the room, saying, ‘Out, Friedman! We don’t want your sort here either!’ I sat there staring at him, because I didn’t know then what had happened to Herr Durst.
“I must have looked very stupid, because he crossed over to the desk and put his face right down next to mine and spoke very slowly and distinctly as if I was an idiot. ‘Get out of this office, Friedman, and don’t come back.’”
“What did you say?”
“I didn’t know what to say. He simply turned away saying, as he walked out of the door, ‘Collect your wage packet from Fräulein Weiss. You’re lucky to get it.’ I was still too shocked to move, I just stared at him and then he said, ‘And if you’re still here in five minutes’ time, you won’t be paid!’”
“Did you get it?” Ruth asked anxiously. “Did they pay you what they owed?” Her own money had dwindled to almost nothing, and would have run out long ago if Herbert hadn’t given her housekeeping money… the money he no longer paid Frau Schultz.
“Yes, they’ve paid me to the end of the week. It’s not much.”
“But if you left so early, where have you been since?” wondered Ruth.
“When I’d collected my money from Fräulein Weiss, I went after Herr Durst. He was outside in the street, looking up at the office building as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. We were hardly out of the door before we saw someone not only changing the locks on the front door, but replacing the brass plate beside it.”
“The brass plate?”
“With the name of the firm. As from today the firm has a new name. Hartmann and Weber.” Herbert shook his head sadly. “This must all have been planned for some time,” he went on. “How else would they have had the new nameplate ready? When I came out, Herr Durst looked across at me and said, ‘You too, Friedman? I’m sorry about that. No Jews allowed.’ ‘What will you do now, sir?’ I asked him.”
“What did he say?”
“He said, ‘Perhaps set up on my own again, and deal only with Jewish clients. Let’s face it,’ he said, ‘there are plenty of Jews who need my help just now.’ ‘Will you have work for me?’ I asked him. ‘I need a
job too.’ He said, ‘Come and have a drink and we’ll talk about it.’”
“So that’s where you’ve been.” Ruth sounded relieved.
“We went to a bar where Herr Durst is known, and they did serve us, but it was clear they overcharged us. When I said as much to Herr Durst, he said that it had been so for some time now, but that it meant he could still buy a drink there if he wanted to.”
“So, did he give you a job?”
“No. He gave me advice.” Herbert fell silent.
“What?” demanded Ruth at last. “What did he say?”
“He said I should get out while I could.”
“Get out?” echoed Ruth. “Get out of where?”
“Germany. He said I was single and that it would be easy for me to leave now, but he thought things were going to get much worse. That the time would come when it would be too late. Jews wouldn’t be allowed to leave.”
“And is he going to get out?” enquired Ruth.
“No,” answered Herbert, “but he has a family, it’s not so easy for him simply to up sticks and go.”
“Exactly! He has family! You’d think he would be trying to get them out as soon as he can.”
“He said he’d thought of it,” Herbert said, “but he’s not sure it’s necessary for a family like his.”
“A family like his?” Ruth spoke with the utmost scorn. “Does he really think he’s too well connected to be in any danger? Does he think the Nazis pay any attention to that? He’s a Jew. All Jews are at risk.” Ruth pulled Leah Meyer’s letter out of her pocket and handed it to Herbert. “Read that,” she said. “Jews are being rounded up and sent to this dreadful camp, well the men are anyway, and they are only being allowed out if they agree to leave Germany for good. Kurt is in this camp… at least I assume he is, as he was arrested the same night as Martin Rosen. God knows if he will be offered the same chance to leave, but in the meantime things are getting worse, you know they are. Look what she says here, ‘terror stalks the streets’, she means the Gestapo.”
“I know it, you know it. But there’s nothing we can do about it except keep out of the way.”
“That’s not going to work forever,” Ruth said. “Only today when I was out with the children we heard them marching towards us. There was nowhere to hide, and as they came towards us those dreadful boots they wear crashing on the road, they sounded like an enemy army. They took no notice of us this time, but I was terrified for the children.”
“You shouldn’t be taking them out,” Herbert said.
“I have to. They can’t stay prisoners in here all day and every day. Oh Herbert, I wish I knew what to do!”
Herbert nodded wearily. “So do I,” he said.
Ruth hardly slept that night, churning everything over in her mind, considering and discarding ideas as to what they might do. Herbert losing his job meant that his income had dried up, which meant that hers had too. What were they going to live on? How was she going to feed four hungry children, not to mention herself and Herbert? It wasn’t just money for food that she had to find. The winter was coming, they would need warm clothes. She could try and get work herself, but there were so few jobs, and almost none that might be given to a Jew. Ruth didn’t mind hard work, would welcome it if it meant that her children were warm and fed, but she knew there would be little on offer.
And even if I can get work, she wondered, who’ll look after the children? It’ll have to be Laura; though she’s only ten, she’ll have to look after them if I do manage to find something.
Herbert might be more lucky, she thought. He, unlike her with her dark hair and eyes, her slightly hooked nose and wide mouth, was not so obviously Jewish. He might find himself a job of some sort, even if not the kind of work he was used to. He won’t be able to be choosy about what he does, she thought. He’ll have to take anything that’s offered.
At last she drifted off into fitful sleep, from which she woke in the morning, un-refreshed, her eyes as heavy as her heart.
Herbert left at his usual time next morning, as if he were going to the office. Ruth was pleased he did, it prevented any awkward questions from Laura, who was quite old enough and bright enough to notice a change in routine. At the end of the week he gave Ruth her usual housekeeping money, but though he had been looking for work every day, he told her, “There’s no work for anyone. I did call on Herr Durst again, but he was not at home.”
“Not at home, or not at home to you?” asked Ruth.
Herbert shrugged. “It’s all one when it comes down to it,” he said. “He’s not going to be able to give me any work, even if he gets something set up for himself. He has two sons. They will keep anything like that in the family. It’s everyone for himself these days.”
Ruth could only agree with him. There had been unrest all over the country, though not, thank goodness, in their immediate locality. All Jews were constantly looking over their shoulders now. Frau Meyer’s words lived in her mind: “terror stalks our streets”. Ruth, like almost all Jews, had become more and more aware of the tramp of jackboots, and the casual cruelty of the Hitler Youth who haunted the Jewish districts, hunting in gangs. She seldom took the children far these days, just a short walk each day to give them some exercise and fresh air. They were virtually prisoners in the apartment, and although she tried to keep up a pretence of normality, they were changing from the cheerful, rosy-cheeked children she had brought from Gerbergasse, to restive, fractious children, pale-faced and hollow-eyed.
It was over a week later that Herbert finally dropped his bombshell.
“I’m going to Argentina,” he told Ruth when the children were safely in bed and they were alone in the living room. They were sitting across the dining table from each other, the remains of a frugal meal between them.
Ruth stared at him, aghast. “You’re what?”
“I’m going to Argentina,” he repeated, “I’ve booked my passage on a ship. I leave from Hamburg next week. There’s nothing to keep me here.”
Ruth continued to stare at him. “Nothing to keep you here,” she echoed flatly.
Herbert continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “I’ve no family, and it’s no good me waiting to see if Herr Durst is going to set up another firm. I’m getting out while I still can.”
“Nothing to keep you here,” Ruth said again. “No family. What about Kurt’s children? Kurt’s family? Don’t you think we might need you?”
Herbert looked a little uncomfortable, but he spoke firmly. “I have thought about you and the children… of course I have. I would take you, but Kurt will be coming to look for you here. Otherwise I’d take you with me, of course I would… But you said yourself that this is where Kurt will come to find you.” His eyes showed a gleam of… what? Ruth wasn’t sure as she listened to him cap his lies with the argument she had used to get him to allow them to stay with him.
“Here,” she repeated. “But if you’ve gone…”
“My dear Ruth,” Herbert said soothingly, “you don’t think I am just going to walk away and leave you with nowhere to live, do you?”
It was exactly what Ruth was thinking, so she didn’t reply as she waited for him to continue. “Of course not.” He shook his head firmly. “It would be wrong to take you with me, but you can stay here. The rent on this flat is paid up until the end of the year. You can stay here, just as you are now until Kurt comes for you. If they’re letting them out of that camp, it won’t be long before he’s here with you again.”
“And you’ve actually booked your passage? Bought your ticket? You have your ticket in your hands?”
“Not yet, but I’ve paid for it. I collect it from the office of the shipping company tomorrow.”
“Let’s hope there is one for you,” snapped Ruth bitterly.
Once he had told her, Herbert’s demeanour began to change. He had made his decision some days ago, but now he had admitted it to Ruth there came a sense of relief, a sense of purpose. He still looked older than his years, but a little colou
r began to creep back into his cheeks. He got up from his chair and went to the sideboard where he poured himself a glass of schnapps. Turning back towards Ruth he saw her watching him, her eyes dull with worry.
“Would you like a drink, Ruth?” he asked awkwardly. “I’m sorry, I should have asked you.”
Ruth was about to refuse when she thought, “Why not?” She seldom drank alcohol, but suddenly she felt in need of… whatever it might supply. She nodded and Herbert poured another, smaller measure into a glass and handed it to her.
“Prosit!” he said.
Ruth took the glass and took a sip. The drink was fiery in her throat, and she coughed, before downing the rest in one draught, and coughing again.
“Steady,” Herbert said. “You’re not used to it.” He tilted his own glass and he, too, downed the contents in one, before pouring each of them another.
Later, as Ruth lay on the sofa, feeling a little woozy from the unaccustomed schnapps, she went over and over what Herbert had said.
“You can stay here in the flat. You’ll be fine.”
“And what do you suggest we live on?” she had demanded angrily. “Fresh air?”
“Of course not,” Herbert soothed. “I will give you some money. It’s the least I can do. I have some money saved. Most of it I must take with me, to start again in Argentina… but of course I will leave you enough to keep you going until Kurt gets here.”
“And supposing he doesn’t?” demanded Ruth, staring at him icily. “Supposing he doesn’t get here?”
The Runaway Family Page 6