Warsaw

by Richard Foreman

  22.

  Duritz had not long finished eating but his stomach still grumbled as he sat in the apartment, staring out of the window. The aroma of the pea soup which suffused the air was stronger than its flavour. Woollen clouds hung heavy and low in the evening sky. At least it would be warmish compared to other recent nights. Kolya was currently out for the evening. Duritz had given the boy the last of his money - and a spare saucepan - to see what he could buy or barter in the way of food with the rest of the similarly desperate occupants of their building.

  He could not have told you how he had arrived there in terms of his train of thought but Adam found himself thinking upon Anna. A glow, seasoned a little with regret, filled his heart upon remembering the time they had spent together. The memory of her naked body still coursed through his veins occasionally. Why had it ended? Did he, or her, end it? Ultimately he just hoped she was safe.

  "What are you thinking about?" Jessica asked kindly, cautiously. Interested.

  "Nothing."

  "Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you."

  "No, I should be the one apologising. I was thinking about my brother. It's the not knowing that's so frustrating, depressing," Duritz replied, lying.

  "For me, it's the not knowing that still gives me hope," Jessica replied with an attempt of a consoling smile upon her weathered face, trying to reassure herself as well as her fellow sufferer.

  Looking troubled, grave, Adam walked over to the dining table and sat down. Jessica had been on her feet ever since she had returned in the late afternoon - cooking, cleaning, sewing - but Duritz now asked her to sit.

  "I will not lie to you Jessica. In a way I suspect that you already know it anyway - but we haven't got long left. If we do not do something we are going to be evacuated. It could even be a matter of days rather than weeks."

  "I know," the pensive woman replied after a moment's pause.

  "Nobody can believe the deceptions anymore. Some people might imagine that if they don't talk about the inevitable it might not happen, or at least it might be postponed. But they will - or have already begun - to liquidate the ghetto. I understand that Hoffman's factory has even closed down. It's been moved to Lubin. No one believes the lies anymore that there will be food distributed to people if they turn up at the station but still the transports are full. They will try and squeeze every single soul out of this ghetto. As methodical and modern as their means are, it's like a Holy War to some of them. Perhaps we should've treated it as the same."

  Jessica just listened, lost in Duritz's brooding features and persuasive argument. He sat with his arms upon the table with one hand clenched into a fist, the other hand covering it - in a gesture half towards aggression, half towards a prayer.

  "I promised Thomas that I wouldn't say anything but I believe that we should be ready if and when the time comes. He is going to attempt to get us out of the ghetto, pay for someone to put us into hiding. I'm not going to say that it won't be dangerous, but it is the right thing to do. We also shouldn't be too proud to accept. It's going to be better to try than not try at all. I know that now. Someone asked me to go with them and try to escape before. Sometimes I regret it. But there's a reason why, ultimately, I don't." It was perhaps only just after when the confession came out of his mouth that Duritz realised how much truth was in it.

  "If you think that we should try to get out then I think we should. We should not leave though unless we all leave - and stay – together," Jessica pronounced with a determination equal to Adam's. She smiled appreciatively at him. Her soft expression helped break the gravity of the atmosphere. Duritz couldn't help but soften his features too, bathing in the sight and favour of a changed Jessica. Had she changed just in relation to him, or to everything, over the past few weeks or so? - Duritz would later wonder that evening.

  Pause.

  "What was the reason, if you do not mind me asking, for you not regretting leaving?"

  Pause.

  Duritz swallowed and, for the first time since sitting down, he couldn't look Jessica in the eye.

  "All I've ever wanted from life is to care for someone and to have that someone care for me. Half of my wish has now come true." The confession appeared to be infused with elements of both discomfort and relief, so inexplicably bound as to be inseparable. He noticed how black his fingernails were. His hair was greasy but, thanks to the sisterly care of Jessica, free from lice. His face often took on a hard or mocking expression - lean and sallow as it had become through malnutrition - but it expressed something far finer now. A trembling silence hung in the air for a moment or two. Raindrops, like fingers being drummed upon a table, sounded upon the window pane. Then the heavens opened. A bolt of lightning, forked like a serpent's tongue, suddenly tasted the air of the night sky. For a fleeting second the white light illuminated both the apartment and a look of devotion. The man had creepily been obsessed with her in her youth. He was a policeman and collaborator. He had blackmailed and assaulted her. So much had changed.

  Jessica only saw the beautiful, sorrowful soul before her in the erbium-tinged light. The past was the past. They had once stayed up half the night talking, or rather Duritz poured out his soul and confessions. His face was twisted in horror as he recounted how, when accompanying some soldiers on an aktion one morning, he had unwittingly condemned two children to their deaths. Upon searching the small room for any valuables, as the SS were ushering a young couple out of their home by gunpoint, Duritz opened up a chest of drawers to find two children - no older than six - hiding out in the special hollowed out piece of furniture. As one of the children, the boy, was about to scream his older sister put her hand over his mouth. She looked up at the policeman, pleadingly. Adam could hear one of the soldiers approaching. Should he shut the draw and pretend they had nothing of worth? But the soldier was coming over because Duritz had stood gawping at the false draw for a suspicious amount of time. He would be in trouble himself if found out. They would all then be selected. All this occurred in an instant. The policeman's mind was made up for him by the mother screaming and running across the room - placing herself in front of the chest of draws and imploring Duritz and the soldiers not to take her children. Hysterical. A Ukrainian soldier - drunk and seething with rage for being lied to by the Jews - ended the woman's supplications by shooting her in the head. He then emptied his rifle into the whimpering chest of draws. Duritz felt like wrestling the rifle from him and turning it upon the sadistic soldier, but didn't. From that moment on the policeman refrained from searching through wardrobes and furniture during aktions. Two weeks later Thomas obtained his leave of absence from the force.

  Jessica would give him the same second-chance that Adam was so desperately trying to give himself. Thunder rumbled in the background, rippling through the air all across Poland, from Lodz to Pinsk. But Jessica could only hear the powerful beating of her better heart

  "Maybe more than half of your wish has come true," Jessica replied. "You're not the only one who doesn't regret you leaving when you had the chance."

  From gazing down at his cold hands upon the table Duritz suddenly glanced up at a Jessica, as if he had somehow been jolted back to life. His eyes shone with prosperity. They had to express his thoughts, for his heart was in his mouth and Adam was momentarily incapable of speech. Love exists.

  The magnetism of the telling moment was soon interrupted however as the door noisily clunked open. Kolya had returned. If the boy had been sober and alert he might have noticed the strange looks Jessica and Adam exchanged, but his wits and mobility had been dulled by the pint of spirits he had drunk during the evening, albeit he came back with some food also (bread, some butter and a couple of turnips). Both were unhappy with the boy for his inebriated state and also the prodigious waste of their valuables. Jessica especially pursed her lips and glared at her young brother. Yet she bit her tongue and did not say anything. She did not want to cause any friction in the household, especially since they would all need each other soon. The last v
estiges of any determination Jessica had to castigate Kolya for his selfish behaviour were dispelled by a knowing shake of the head by Adam. Disappointment more than disapproval sat upon Duritz's countenance. He promised himself he would say something to Kolya on the quiet. Duritz more than most knew what the youth was going through; he could sympathise with how the youth was increasingly craving alcohol to forget about his bleak present and black future.

  The loud hiss of the wind, as well as his turbulent thoughts, kept Thomas awake. He clutched the envelope beneath his blanket. Maria had written a long letter, fraught with questions and veiled accusations, to accompany the money that she had sent. Thomas had read over it once but then discarded the note. In his mind he formed the resolution and practical steps to carry out his plan. He would visit Adam in the morning. He would give him the money. Adam would then see his contact and arrange for their escape and sanctuary on the other side. Thomas would meet Adam afterwards and they would go together to discuss things with Jessica in the evening. The German here began to think of Jessica, discomfort mixed with attraction mixed with conceit mixed with alcohol. Thomas was soon disturbed though in his fanciful reverie. Voices sounded from behind the curtains which made up the walls of his billet.

  "I'm not going to have a go at you for what you've just done. All I'm going to say is don't do it again. I don't believe you're like them so don't act like it. Do you know the most common enemy you're going to face during your posting lads?" Oscar Hummel asked the two new recruits who had joined the platoon the day before.

  "No sir," a callow Private diffidently replied. The youth found his new senior Private imposing, both in his experience and physical presence. The veteran soldier had caught them firing shots from their rifles into windows of the tenement blocks on the other side of the walls, imitating a couple of SS Lance-Corporals.

  "Your enemy will be boredom. You lost to him this evening - and he'll whisper in your ear like the devil again - but although boredom is a common enemy he's also one that's easily bested. Do you know what is your best defence against boredom is lad?" Oscar said to the other raw Wehrmacht recruit, who was timidly standing next to his co-penitent. Before he could garner a reply the Private answered his own question.

  "You may think that routine is the comrade of boredom, or its spur, but routine will save you from boredom, not make you its victim. Practise your drills, do your job, find an interest. Find a routine. I don't enjoy disciplining you - which is partly why I'll come down even harder on you when I do - so self-discipline yourselves. You should count yourselves unbelievably lucky not to have been posted to the Front. Don't piss away your good fortune and honour over one reckless act."

  A hint of a smile coloured the Corporal's expression as he lay in bed, listening to the exchange. Thomas pictured each chiselled and sage expression on Oscar's face as he delivered again his induction speech. Thomas knew the Private's words by heart; he could also amuse himself by mimicking his gruff voice. It was not only a sense of fondness for his reliable Private though which warmed the Corporal's innards this raw evening. A sense of sturdy relief coursed through his veins, in that should he be compromised or worse in his attempt to help Jessica he knew that the unit would be in good hands. They would still retain their shape and character under Oscar's unofficial authority. His resolve was stiffened all the more by the consoling thought.

  Jessica tip-toed back into her room and bed and wrapped her blankets around her to form a chrysalis to trap the warmth in. A virile expression shone forth in the girl's pretty features - indeed it was the expression which made her pretty. She could not sleep - dreaming about the possibilities of freedom and being with Adam. She ventured out for a small cup of water. Duritz was awake also, drowsy upon the same thoughts which were flowering inside of Jessica. The happy couple spied each other.

  "Sorry, I didn't wake you did I?" Jessica said quietly and sweetly, delighted in a way to have woken Adam even if he had been asleep.

  "No," Duritz replied, or rather mouthed, smilingly.

  "I just need a glass of water. Do you want anything?"

  "Earplugs would be nice," Adam dryly said whilst rolling his eyes in the direction of a snoring Kolya.

  Jessica tried to bite her lip and suppress a slight giggle but she couldn't. She did however quickly and apologetically put her hand over her mouth afterwards as if she had hiccupped after drinking a glass of champagne. Adam coughed out a laugh himself in reply to Jessica's adorable and infectious amusement. It was then as if the past hour or so had not occurred. They suddenly re-forged that same intent and sentimental look they had shared previously - before Kolya had interrupted the moment with his return. Although Jessica didn't actually say anything Adam responded.

  "Let's just take it one day at a time though. In a way we have to," he said sweetly, meaningfully, all the while however somewhat comically speaking from the position of lying upon the floor, his face poking out above his clay-coloured blankets.

  Jessica was touched by the tenderness and paternity of his tone. She smiled and nodded her head. Perhaps a part of her wanted to softly put a finger to his lips and climb into bed with him - as indeed Adam had often pictured himself of late walking into Jessica's room and lovingly doing the same to her. But as Jessica returned to her bed an argument filled the woman's heart which bespoke of loving Duritz for his new-found restraint and selflessness. He really cared for her. She romantically thought of mundane things they would some day do together, like go shopping or go to the theatre. He would always make her laugh. He was different. Jessica made a promise to herself that when all this was over she would take him to the coast. They had stayed up chatting one evening and Adam had revealed how he longed to, just once, see the ocean.

  "Like most things, I've only read about it. I haven't been anywhere really."

  "I love the ocean. Papa once took us on holiday to Cannes. The beaches were beautiful. The sea was so clear that you could look down and see your feet on the ocean floor."

  "When I was about five years old I once sneaked off and climbed the highest tenement block I could find to see if I could see the sea. I even stood on tip-toe, trying to look further."

  "What did you see?"

  "The back of my father's hand, eventually. I've been climbing buildings and looking down on anti-climaxes since" Adam remarked wistfully.

  The ocean would not be an anti-climax Jessica believed when she took Adam. She would wear something nice. She remembered how attractive she looked when she last visited the coast. An old boyfriend had driven her. She had worn a short skirt and she caught the eye of everyone on the beach. Jessica closed her eyes and felt the sea breeze freshen the skin upon her legs and sun bronze her face. She could sense the envy of other women and the desire of men as sure as she felt the sun upon the back of her neck. But Jessica here indulgently smiled to herself in thinking how proud and happy Adam would be with her on his arm as they walked across the golden sands, the sea lapping across and cooling their feet as they did so. She would take him swimming. She would enjoy teaching him to swim. The young woman closed her eyes and sumptuously smiled in picturing herself pretty again - and Adam adoring her. Loving her. It was a substantial and liberating feeling, the thought that she would be with Adam for the rest of her life. He was the one. No longer did the once vain girl crave to be the centre of attention, to play all sorts of games to tease, win (or submit to being won) - and then discard her suitor for that particular season. Adam would always be devoted to her - and she to him.

  The storm had long abated and the rains had washed away all the fungus-shaped clouds to leave a glossy black night sky, soft in its texture to appear almost velvety. Such was the position and the rare effulgence of the moon framed within the window above Adam that one might have mistook the sight for an omen. Such was its proximity and power that its beams not only illuminated Duritz's room with uncommon vigour but so too its supple rays stretched into Jessica's room, bathing her delicate face in a heavenly glow as if it were its duty t
o do so. The resplendent stars seemed to pulsate to the girl's throbbing heart as her inward eye gazed upon her intended - who she judged now in his true light. Love fuelled a faith in God. God inspired a faith in love.

  23.

  A nettling headache accompanied Yitzhak Meisel's chesty cough. He sucked and spluttered up a mouthful of emerald catarrh, spitting it all out into a teacup which rested upon the table next to his squeaking bed. The pastel skies outside belonged to summer, which only made the temperature seem crueller to the lamentable inhabitants of the ghetto this morning. The policeman at first sneered and then cursed the absent girl underneath his breath. Meisel had wanted the chit to make him a cup of coffee and light his burner. He might have even been in the mood to service her again before having to get up. One could argue that the unpleasant policeman couldn't have reason to complain. He had banished the girl from his sight saying "what are you still doing here, do you think you're gonna get paid?" in the middle of the night. But Yitzhak complained to himself and cursed her nevertheless. He concluded that he'd pick the sister next time. After all, to look at them, the sister was now perhaps a more enjoyable prospect - younger, healthier. With a blackened fingernail he scraped a thick layer of scum off his back teeth.

  The succulent picture of this virginal teenager began to dominate his thoughts to the point where the constable was tempted to venture to the apartment two floors above and retrieve the girl. The prattling mother might protest and go through all the histrionics but ultimately she would have to submit to his will. Thankfully the father and two brothers had long since been evacuated. The one thing that he'd never got from the mole-faced fish-wife was gratitude Meisel suddenly thought to himself. He'd never select them - well the mother he might, if only to shut her up. But her daughters were safe, because of him.