by Holly Müller
‘I really must ask you to wait outside the ward until the other staff return. They’re in a meeting at present but will finish shortly and will see you then.’ She smiled tightly.
Herr Esterbauer ignored her. The warmth of the office provided by a small heater revived Ursula a little. She began to feel more competent.
‘We must at least have a visit,’ said Herr Esterbauer, his voice rising. ‘I insist. I’ve left all my duties at home in order to bring him back. I have lost a lot of money! This is completely unacceptable! We must at least see the boy today.’
She shrank back a little. ‘I am sure that’s not permitted, mein Herr.’
‘Well, check his file or something, will you?’ He gestured sharply.
The nurse blinked, gave an anxious sigh, took a file from the shelf and leafed through the dense papers, labelled in alphabetical order. She reached the letter ‘H’. ‘Hillier. Yes, you’ve been refused, sir, because he’s unwell. He’s been receiving intensive treatment. He’s contracted pneumonia.’ She turned to them with a slight frown. ‘To remove him now would be to endanger him unnecessarily.’
‘Come, now!’ Herr Esterbauer scowled. ‘We’ll just look at him – we won’t disturb him. What possible harm can that do?’
She sighed again, gazed here and there. ‘He’s really not strong enough to have visitors, mein Herr. It must be done by arrangement.’
‘I told you, girl – it has been arranged!’
‘Well, I’ve not been informed.’ She muttered this, almost inaudibly. Her slim hand reached towards a grey telephone that crouched on the filing cabinet.
Herr Esterbauer abruptly stood.
The nurse paused.
‘If you don’t allow a visit’ – he spoke commandingly, with authority; he squared his shoulders, raised himself tall – ‘I’ll involve your superiors. Dr Klein himself assured me just last week that I’d no need to worry, his staff would attend to me. So far I’ve seen no sign of their obeying him.’
The nurse now lost her guarded air. Her clear round eyes took in the threat. Ursula noticed for the first time that she was very young, just a teenager of a similar age to Dorli. She had pretty blonde hair arranged in soft buns over her ears. Perhaps she was new here and more afraid of the doctor than some.
‘But I was sure he would have informed us.’
‘Perhaps you were inattentive.’
She wavered for a moment then went slowly to a wall cabinet. She retrieved a large garland of keys. She handled them noisily for a moment; the pink of new petals had appeared in her cheeks. ‘Follow me,’ she muttered.
Ursula stood and glanced quickly at Herr Esterbauer, hope and excitement buzzing in her veins. He’d done it. The nurse was going to lead them to Schosi.
Outside a door, beside which a large-wheeled cart was parked, the nurse stopped.
‘Wait here.’ She sidled in.
A few minutes passed. There came a clattering noise. Ursula wondered what she could be doing. She stared nervously down the passageway, picturing the arrival of Dr Klein, his mask of cool detachment gone, his wrath unleashed. The place was like a warren, all gun-metal grey and cream with an unpleasant reflective sheen to each surface, a colourless glare that did nothing to dispel the darkness but highlighted every lump and dent in the plaster. A desolation and eeriness pervaded – oppressive, quiet. On the wall near by, she noticed something written. Words scrawled messily along the plasterwork in pencil or charcoal, almost invisible. She squatted in order to read it: Dear God, get me out of here. Dear Führer, get me out of here. Utta Mayer.
She shuddered – that pleading voice, forlorn, desperate.
The door reopened. ‘You’ve two minutes. The staff are due to finish shift handover – they come straight to this room to do medications. I’d rather they didn’t find you. Please be quick.’
Inside they found many beds crammed together with barely space to squeeze between them, each with a sleeping occupant covered by a blanket. A cupboard stood open and empty against a wall, its bare shelves exposed like ribs. Schosi was lying on a high bed with wheels, positioned against one of two tall windows beyond which was a balcony. Another bed was end-to-end with Schosi’s, the toes of the two boys almost touching.
Ursula ran forward, pushing through the gaps between the beds, dislodging one or two blankets as she did so and stopping to replace them. Herr Esterbauer followed close behind.
‘Excuse me!’ cried the nurse. She hastened after them. ‘You said you wouldn’t disturb him.’
Ursula reached Schosi’s bed. God, he looked so different, deathly thin and grey-skinned. Beneath his eyes were inky stains and his lips and fingers were dark as though he’d been eating bilberries. She was overwhelmed with emotion – she reached for his hand. The fingers were cold and wet.
‘Why’s he so cold?’ she exclaimed.
Herr Esterbauer touched Schosi’s hand and swore in shock.
‘Come away, please. He’s resting now. He’s very sick.’
Ursula touched Schosi’s arm and then his cheek. Both were cold and wet. ‘Why is he wet?’
‘It’s part of the illness. The patient becomes chilled and suffers with poor circulation. And perspires – heavily perspires. Come away now!’ The woman tugged at Ursula’s shoulder. She shook her off.
‘Good grief!’ said Herr Esterbauer. ‘Move him away from the draught then and give the boy an extra blanket. He’s frozen. Shouldn’t someone be at his side, to mop the sweat away? He’ll freeze to death the way he is.’
Ursula turned to stare at the nurse. ‘He’ll freeze to death,’ she repeated.
The nurse dropped her gaze. There was guilt in her look, deep and untended. Ursula returned to stroking Schosi’s face. There was no risk of waking him – he slept heavy as lead. She glanced at his arm and saw marks in the crook of his elbow.
‘Drugged,’ said Herr Esterbauer.
Ursula closed her eyes. She rested her head briefly on Schosi’s shoulder. The clothing there was also wet. Sodden and cold. Perspiration? She looked at the other boy who lay on the adjoining bed. His long fringe was slick to his forehead and in his hair were dark flecks of something stuck there. She looked more closely at Schosi – there were the same dark flecks in his hair, not so apparent at first because of his colouring. Leaves, or pieces of leaf. She looked out at the balcony beyond the glass. Leaves of the same colour lay on the concrete, the snow still falling. ‘God!’ she shouted. ‘Look! The inside of the glass is wet – the doors. She’s just brought them inside.’ She felt the nurse’s presence behind her, her silence and her breathing. Near to the wheels of the beds watery tracks expanded into a puddle. ‘We’re not imbeciles!’ She spun to face the nurse. She’d probably done it herself; shut him out alone and helpless. She had a sudden urge to pounce on the woman and throttle her, to frighten and hurt her and make her suffer – the coward, the torturer. She should be made to die in Schosi’s place.
Herr Esterbauer swivelled too. ‘Why?’ he demanded. ‘Why’s he put out there?’
The nurse looked behind her, as though thinking to escape, or listening for the other nurses.
‘Sister?’ Herr Esterbauer barked.
She jumped and flinched away, her hands clasped in front of her skirt.
‘Answer us!’
‘I can’t!’ she almost wailed. ‘I’m not permitted to!’
Herr Esterbauer stood and approached her. ‘Did you start this job to be a fiend? Hmm? They’ll die if we leave them. They’ll die.’
She breathed heavily, her face rigid; faintly she shook her head.
‘Help us.’
The nurse gaped.
‘You have to,’ he pressed. ‘It’s barbaric. We must save him.’
Ursula was confused; what was he doing? This nurse would never help them – she was part of this awful place.
‘No, no, I can’t! They’ll be here any minute. It’s too dangerous.’
‘For them it’s dangerous!’ Herr Esterbauer pointed at the boys. �
��Do you think about that?’
One or two tears landed on the nurse’s uniform. ‘Yes.’
‘Then do it!’
‘How?’
‘Out the window.’
‘If I’m caught?’
‘Say he escaped. Open these windows. Hand him down. I can catch him.’ The nurse winced – fear sweated from her. ‘Are you strong enough? Can you lift him?’
‘I expect so.’
Ursula turned to look at Schosi again – his gaunt face and skeletal arms. Could it be true that this woman had taken pity? Ursula hurried to the window, terrified that the other staff would appear before they could free him. Something was sure to go wrong.
‘Then do it,’ said Herr Esterbauer. ‘Allow as long as possible before sounding the alarm – say the boy disappeared.’
‘They’ll never believe me.’ A slight noise came from somewhere; a faint bang. The nurse whipped round to face the door, eyes wide. They all stared but no one appeared.
‘They will. They’ll have to,’ said Herr Esterbauer.
White-faced, she ran past them and rolled the two beds away from the windows. She unbolted them, her hands shaking so terribly she almost couldn’t do it, then threw them open.
‘Ursula,’ said Herr Esterbauer.
Ursula went on to the balcony and swung her leg over the rail. The nurse hurried to check the corridor, opening the door to the dormitory just a crack then closing it again. Herr Esterbauer watched her, eagle-eyed. Ursula brought her other leg over and then looked down. A six-foot drop or so. No one about. The snow falling side-swept and thick. She lowered herself with care, the paint slippery. She dropped, struck the ground with a thud and fell on to her backside. Herr Esterbauer followed, coat waving in the wind as he hung from the perilous rail. When he landed he staggered but remained upright. The nurse approached the railing; in her arms lay Schosi, swaddled like a pupa. She edged forward until he overhung the drop.
‘Oh God!’ she hissed. ‘I can’t do this!’
‘You can. I’m ready.’ Herr Esterbauer stretched out his arms.
Ursula bit her lip hard, scarcely daring to watch.
‘I can’t throw him!’
‘It’s all right. Just let go.’ Herr Esterbauer stepped forward a little more, widened his arms, braced his legs. ‘Go on!’
She released Schosi and he fell, blanket unfurling. Herr Esterbauer caught him with a stumble and an involuntary grunt, managed to right his footing and keep his hold. He turned to Ursula, snow coating his hat. They began to walk.
‘Wait!’ The girl’s voice quaked with panic. She waved them to stop. She disappeared inside and reappeared carrying another child, the boy who’d been on the bed end-to-end with Schosi’s. ‘Take him too.’
‘Are you mad?’ said Herr Esterbauer. ‘We can’t do that!’
‘Please. He has no one at all. And they’re friends. Please.’
Ursula plucked at the farmer’s sleeve. ‘Come on! The other nurses . . . Come on!’
‘We can’t take him!’ Herr Esterbauer repeated.
‘Then catch him at least.’ The nurse dangled the boy over the edge. Her grasp looked even less secure than when she’d held Schosi. Herr Esterbauer placed Schosi on the ground, hurried forward. Ursula squinted upwards, flakes catching on her lashes, blurring her sight. This was crazy. They’d all be caught.
The nurse dropped the child and Herr Esterbauer managed to receive him.
‘Hang on! I’ve got to get my bag,’ she whispered. ‘I won’t be long – I’ll carry him!’
‘What? No!’
But the nurse didn’t hear; she closed the window and was gone.
‘We can’t wait!’ Ursula was frantic. Someone would come, someone would see! After getting so close, Schosi would be snatched away. She went over to where he lay, braced herself then lifted him from the ground. He wasn’t as heavy as she’d expected, though he was too big for her to hold for long. She clasped him tightly, leaned back to take his weight against her front. She tried to shield him from the driving snow and edged into the bushes.
Herr Esterbauer did the same, holding the other boy. ‘Can you manage him?’ he asked.
Schosi already slid from her grip. She shook her head and squatted, out of breath.
‘We’ll be more than conspicuous trying to lug these two,’ said Herr Esterbauer. ‘We’ll be noticed.’ His breath came heavy and fast, steaming in the cold air. ‘But we can’t just leave this other boy.’
‘He was outside anyway.’
‘That’s not the point.’
But why was the nurse taking so long? Had she run to Dr Klein? Was he right now on his way? She shook with cold and hugged Schosi close. She tried to lift him again, her back straining, arms fatigued. ‘She might not come back – she might report us.’
Herr Esterbauer looked at the nameless boy who lay unmoving in his arms, then up at the balcony.
A figure appeared on the nearby path. They huddled deeper into the shadows. As the person drew closer they saw it was the young nurse, with coat and bag, and nurse’s cap removed. She stepped on to the grass.
‘Hello?’ she whispered.
Herr Esterbauer echoed her and she located them amongst the branches. Without saying a word Herr Esterbauer handed the boy to her then lifted Schosi and enfolded him in his coat. They set off into the trees.
The nurse fell into step with Ursula, looking apprehensively behind and panting with the effort of carrying the boy. ‘I made an excuse of not being well,’ she said. ‘I told them I’d done the meds in that dorm, which should allow us some time.’
Ursula said nothing. She scowled suspiciously, her anger and disgust still potent. Snow billowed about them like a veil; the daylight was poor, dull as twilight beneath the storm cloud. They heard a motor and yellow headlamps glowed between the trunks. They crouched in dense undergrowth and the lights swept across them.
‘I didn’t know,’ murmured the girl as they hid close together in the greenery. ‘I didn’t know what they’d ask me to do. I couldn’t change it. The orders are direct from the Führer. Direct from him! I would have been killed.’
Herr Esterbauer raised a finger to his lips and they waited in silence until the vehicle was gone.
Once they were out of the gates the streets and pavements were deserted and there were very few vehicles. A man struggled past them going up the hill, bent double over the handlebars of a bike. He didn’t even glance their way. Herr Esterbauer led them – the nurse stopped now and then to jog the boy she was carrying into a better position. Ursula walked close beside Herr Esterbauer and Schosi; she could hear the wheezing of Schosi’s breath. She kissed him on the cheek, glad to have him near, however limp and quiet, and she kept a sharp eye out for the black-and-white hospital uniform amongst pedestrians and cyclists. They passed a couple of shops still open with their light spilling weakly on to the snow. An aerated blanket of white now covered everything, light in texture but treacherous when compacted beneath a foot; the telephone and tram wires caught flakes and held them along their length in a balancing act, and a person went by with an umbrella white with snow. As they drew level, the person stopped and shook off the snow, then raised the umbrella again, black once more. The woman – squat and elderly with a Jew’s nose – looked at Ursula.
‘Grüss Gott,’ she said.
‘Grüss Gott,’ replied Ursula, her lips numb, searching for a glimpse of the woman’s clothing beneath the heavy mackintosh, for a sign of the dreaded uniform. The woman passed on.
They reached Gütteldorfer Strasse.
‘It’s not far now,’ said Herr Esterbauer to the nurse.
What had they done, allowing an unknown woman, a nurse from Hartburg, to join them? Ursula hoped upon hope she’d not bring the Gestapo direct to their door. But at least they’d got him out – there hadn’t been a moment to lose. She felt another leap of joy and relief.
At the top of the road where their apartment was situated a policeman walked with his cap pulled lo
w. He cocked an eye at them but kept walking, his stoical tread taking him up and over the brow of the road.
They arrived at the entrance to the apartment block.
‘The key’s in my pocket,’ said Herr Esterbauer.
Ursula fished it out and unlocked the door, pushed it cautiously inwards and Herr Esterbauer ushered the nurse inside. The hallway was empty, the opening into the courtyard criss-crossed by scurrying snowflakes. They hurried over to the inner entrance, which required another key. There were no footprints in the courtyard – no one had been outside since the snow had carpeted it.
‘He’s heavy,’ said the nurse.
‘We’re nearly there.’
Inside, Herr Esterbauer led the way up the spiralling stairs, passing doorways, thankfully closed. They heard voices above – the residents often stopped to gossip on the landings whilst watering the communal plants, mopping the steps, or smoking from the windows. Ursula tensed in readiness. There was always someone ready to make trouble. Self-righteous snoops like Frau Gerg, or informers exploiting the times by passing on information in exchange for a few Reichsmarks. ‘Be bold,’ said Herr Esterbauer. ‘Stay next to me and smile. We’ll pass them without stopping.’
Ursula and the nurse nodded. Ursula’s teeth chattered and her whole body juddered with cold and nerves.
‘Try to be calm. Try to stop shaking.’
They set off up the steps. Two old men stood talking beside the toilet on the next landing, filling the area with pipe smoke. Just as they passed Schosi began to cough. The cough sounded very deep and hollow and unhealthy. The two men stopped talking to watch them.
‘Quite a chest, hey?’ said one.
‘Yes,’ said Herr Esterbauer, beginning up the next flight of steps. ‘Keeps me up half the night!’
The man cackled. ‘Right you are!’
The nurse struggled up the steps behind the farmer and Ursula tried to partially shield her from view by walking close to her back. The men stared after them, curious, silent.
‘Watch your step, Fräulein,’ one of them called.
Laughter echoed. Ursula knew that they were joking about the country farmer and his two young girls – speculating. She supposed there weren’t often strangers here to make comments about. She hoped they could avoid direct attention or questioning before they set off for Felddorf.