‘Yes.’
‘Yes. So now I will tell you my name, and you will tell me yours, and what you do when you are not working in the hospital. Agreed? Good. But first we will dismount at the next corner and walk to your appointment.’ The tram rattled over a bridge and screeched to a stop, and he took Hannah’s arm and helped her down the step. At the end of the bridge, there was a wooden barrier across the narrow street that ran along the river. Two Dutch policemen were sitting on the steps of the corner house, and one got up slowly and put up his hand to stop them.
‘This is a restricted quarter,’ he warned them.
‘Natürlich! Of course!’ Hannah’s escort said. He pulled a card out of his jacket pocket and, after a quick look, the policeman half-saluted and moved the barrier aside. ‘This is necessary, my dear. Your destination is a Jewish hospital, did you know that?’
Along the riverbank, houseboats were anchored, their roofs green with plants, and on the sidewalk, too narrow for them to walk side by side, there were pots holding small trees and flowers and grass grew between the bricks. Guiding her to the middle of the street, he took the briefcase from her. It was so quiet that they could hear seagulls cawing.
‘This is pleasant, isn’t it?’ he asked.
‘Yes, it is. It’s so quiet.’ She hesitated, then dared, ‘You were going to tell me your name.’
‘Yes, of course. It’s Conrad, Conrad Klaus Helmut Iden. That is what the British call a mouthful, isn’t it?’
‘Mine is Hannah Kormann, no middle name, nothing.’
‘Frau oder Fräulein,’ he asked in German. ‘Mrs or miss? I must know how to address you.’ When she laughed, he said, ‘All right, I will call you Hannah and you will call me Conrad.’
At the next corner, he stopped and said, ‘Before I leave you, will you come to a party with me this evening? Are you free? I think you would enjoy meeting other Germans, but more important is that I see you again. What do you think?’
What did she think? Did she want to meet Germans? Did he mean soldiers, SS, police? She didn’t think she could do that. He was waiting for her answer, still smiling. He expected her to hesitate, not every girl wanted to be seen with the enemy.
‘It’s a private party, small and friendly, and the food is wonderful! Say yes just for the food, why don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘I’ll say yes for the food.’ She could say that, because he understood that she liked him. They shook hands on it, he wrote her address in a small notebook, and they agreed to meet at the door of the hospital at eight o’clock. She wouldn't ask him in, he understood that.
Waiting in the hall, Hannah saw it was not a hospital like hers. There were some visitors, but most of the people were old men and women wearing pajamas and robes. They shuffled along on crutches or leaning on somebody’s arm. The men had beards and wore yarmulkes, the women headscarves knotted under their chins. The hall smelled of sweating bodies, boiled potatoes and cigarettes. She had never seen so many old people at one time.
Grandmama’s was this old, she could be dead by now. Mutti was already past fifty. Vati? Older. Did they look like these people? Who was taking care of them? If they came to Holland, she and Vera would have to. How could she do that? Who would pay for it? Vera couldn’t. There had been no letters from Berlin for months and now none from Utrecht. She couldn’t worry about them, she had enough worries already.
The man behind the glassed-in office signaled, and Hannah crossed the hall, took a receipt for the briefcase and left. Outside in the sun, she took a deep breath and started toward the river. She would walk back, it was still early and she knew the way. Had Conrad gone? She almost hoped to see him waiting for her at the corner, but he wasn’t that kind of man.
Hans was standing in the hall when she returned, and he called out to her, ‘I’m just going, and I have a message for you. We’re meeting at the café this evening. Adrian asked if you would like to come.’
‘Tonight?’
‘Yes, it’s a small group, just for a beer and talk.’
‘I’m sorry, I can’t. I mean, can I think about it? Tell you later?’
‘No need, you know where it is. Just come along, eight o’clock. Please come!’
Why had she said yes to Conrad? She didn’t know anything about him, maybe it was a trap. She shouldn’t have told him where she lived, but perhaps he already knew. How could she go out with him, what would Hans and Adrian think? And Mrs Moll, what would she say?
Feeding and washing the children, smoothing their beds, she worried away at what she should do, how to tell Conrad that she couldn’t go with him. A pain sprang up behind her eyes and, upstairs in her room, she saw her pinched face in the mirror and started to cry. Lying down and closing her eyes didn’t help, the pain went on knocking behind her forehead, and every time she looked at the clock, it was later than she wanted it to be.
When it was time to get ready, she looked despairingly at her three dresses. Nobody had new clothes, but everyone had more than she had. Could she wear black in April? The cuffs of the flowered rayon were fraying, and the green one looked vaguely like a dirndl and was too childish for the party she was going to. The other guests would be fashionable and beautiful, and she would hate them on sight.
She could go to the party because she wanted to see Conrad again, not for the food, that was just a joke between them. She wasn’t that hungry, although the chocolate had been lovely, the first in two years. All right, go! The black dress would do if she tied the blue and white dotted scarf around her waist. She anchored her hair with a blue barrette and went downstairs.
He stood a few yards away from the door, leaning on the wall and smoking. When she came out, he threw his cigarette into the canal and walked slowly away from her, his hand held out behind him for her to take. ‘We can walk from here,’ he said. ‘I’m so glad you didn’t change your mind. I thought you might, and I would have been disappointed, but I would have understood. How pretty you look!’
He gave her no time to answer or thank him. ‘My colleague wants very much to meet you, so we will be a little early, and you can talk privately. You look anxious, Hannah, but it’s all right, I assure you. It will be a lovely evening.’
A colleague? She was sure now that he, they, whoever they were, had set a trap for her, that this evening was going to be the beginning of something terrible.
He walked swiftly, there was no way to hold back, to turn around and go home. She could imagine what he would be like if he became angry.
When they entered the hotel lobby, she saw soldiers sitting with drinks at small tables and behind the reception desk another soldier. They were SS, she knew their uniform and, without realizing what she was doing, she stopped walking and pulled back on Conrad’s hand.
‘It’s all right, Hannah, don’t be afraid. I told you it’s a German party? That's why there are soldiers. Come on!’
They went up a shallow flight of stairs, and he knocked on a door and waved her before him into a large room with a wall of windows overlooking the hotel garden. Red plush couches and small tables holding boxes of cigarettes and copper ashtrays were arranged around the room, a long table held platters of cheese and cut meats, bowls of butter and several loaves of sliced bread, and bottles were lined up with glasses on another table. Everything had come from Germany, of course. Dutch people didn’t see this kind of food or this much of anything.
The only person in the room unfolded his long slender body from one of the velvet couches and held his hand out to her. Like Conrad, he wore a dark business suit, a very white shirt and a black tie with a design of rows of tiny red dots that were German eagles. She felt Conrad tap her arm to remind her to shake hands. The man said, ‘Have you forgotten that we shake hands when we meet? This Dutch custom of kissing offends me. Does it you?’
Conrad said, ‘My dear Schmidt, Hannah has been here several years, as you know, but she is still in every way a patriotic young woman. Aren’t you, Hannah?’
She
nodded again. It didn’t seem necessary to speak, neither of them expected her to.
‘Yes, from Berlin, I know.’ Schmidt waved at her to sit down, waved Conrad away and sat down next to her. ‘I know all about you, my dear Hannah, and what I know I like. You work hard, you have few ties to Holland, you have not, in fact, taken sides. I find this good and, may I say, useful.’ He leaned back, crossed his legs and smiled at her. ‘Conrad, go down and greet our guests. Hannah and I need to have a little private talk before the others come.’
‘Now,’ she thought, ‘here it comes.’ She could feel an eyelid twitch and hoped he couldn’t see it.
Schmidt lit a cigarette, smoked for a moment without looking at her, and then said, ‘You know that there have been a number of unfortunate incidents?’
‘I’m sorry, we don’t have a newspaper in the hospital. Mrs Moll thinks it makes the patients restless.’
‘Perhaps she is right. But then you miss all the good news too, the military successes, the happy and calm situation in other lands. And here too, most Dutch people are satisfied and grateful. But the others, of those I wish to speak. Pay attention, please, Hannah. You have some friends who are perhaps not doing all they can to make our job easier. They are happily, shall we say, on the fringe.’
Did he mean Adrian and Hans? What should she say? Yes, no, she didn’t know what he was talking about?
He went on without waiting for an answer. ‘The unfortunate incidents I refer to, robberies, sabotage, illegal newspapers, that sort of unpleasantness, that is the work of your friends. It must, of course, be stopped. For their sake as much as ours.’
She didn’t know anything, she couldn’t tell him anything, but she understood that, whatever she said, he wouldn’t believe her. Conrad hadn’t brought her here for nothing.
Schmidt tipped his head back and blew smoke at the ceiling. ‘And then,’ he went on, ‘they trust you, Hannah, and that is useful. They must go on trusting you. Do you understand what I mean? No?’ He sighed, as if he were tired of talking to a stupid child. ‘It’s very simple. They must confide in you, and you will help them as much as you can. And then you will tell Conrad what your friends are doing, and Conrad will tell me. This way you will be helping us do our job. Now you understand, nicht wahr, is that not so?’
She must have shaken her head without meaning to, because he said sharply, ‘It would be a shame for a pretty little Jewish girl to have to go back to Berlin, nicht wahr?’ When her head jerked up to look at him, he laughed. ‘You are surprised? I told you I know all about you. Yes, and I like that you are Jewish, my dear Hannah, because that means you are smart enough to understand what I want from you, and also how important it is for you. I don’t need to explain it more exactly, do I?’ She shook her head. ‘So it is yes.’ It was not a question.
She whispered yes, just loud enough to be heard, and he reached over and patted her knee. Then he stood and walked to the door, looked out and said something to the soldier standing guard. When Conrad came in with two SS officers in uniform and two women, he greeted each of them with a handshake and a laugh.
She went on sitting, knowing she should rise to be introduced but not trusting her legs, until Conrad held out his hand and pulled her up. ‘Now Hannah, come say hello!’ he exclaimed, as though he had no idea what she and Schmidt had been talking about. The women, older, heavily made-up and beautifully dressed, smiled quickly and turned back to the men. She smoothed down the skirt of her dress, blushing because she didn’t know what to say, didn’t belong at this party with these people. Did they all know who she was?
‘You are beautiful,’ Conrad whispered. ‘Younger and prettier, remember that.’ Raising his voice he went on, ‘Come and tell me what you would like to eat. You prefer white wine? What goes with that? Come and choose.’
An hour later, when one woman was sitting on an officer’s knee, and another couple had disappeared into the room next door, she stood near a window looking out at the dark garden. The talk behind her was loud and cheerful, the men were telling stories, and the woman sitting with them was laughing louder than they were. Somebody joked about an old rabbi who wanted to wear his hat while he was being interviewed, something about being made to bite off a piece of the brim and chew and swallow it before they took it from him and threw it away. ‘It could be worse,’ she heard. 'It could have been fur,' and they all laughed again.
When Conrad came to stand next to her, she whispered, ‘May I go home now? I have to work tomorrow.’
‘Of course, there is no reason to stay.’ He went with her to the door and called back to Schmidt and the others, ‘I’ll see her safely home.’
Neither of them spoke again until, standing with her at the door of the hospital, he took both her hands in his and said, ‘Hannah, do you know what I think?’ She shook her head. ‘I think we will be lovers. Don’t look so surprised. Do you think I am only interested in what Schmidt wants? Don’t think that of me! From the minute I saw you, I knew, didn’t you? It will be all right, I promise.’ He lifted her hand and kissed the air just above it, bowed again and walked away.
She went inside and, leaning against the door, closed it and heard the lock click in. Too tired to go up, she sat down on the steps and closed her eyes. She had to think. Schmidt had said, ‘I know all about you.’ He had ordered Conrad to meet her, and Conrad had brought her to Schmidt and said, ‘Here she is, use her.’ How could he say it would be all right? What was he promising, what did that mean, we'll be lovers? That he would protect her, that she would be safe with him? How could he protect her from Schmidt? Why would he? It will be all right? She didn’t believe him. She wanted to, but she didn’t.
She didn’t know anything about incidents, that was what Schmidt had called them, but even if she did, she wouldn’t tell them anything important. There would be little things, nothing really serious, that she could say she’d heard. Would that be enough? Would she be safe then? Would Adrian and Hans and the others be safe?
It was almost dawn when she fell asleep and dreamed about her father. ‘Put these shoes on,’ he ordered her. They were shiny black leather with impossibly high heels. She’d seen them before but couldn’t think where.
‘Why?’ she asked.
‘Wear them and you will fly,’ he explained.
‘Where will I fly? Where will I go?'
‘To a safe place.’
As though a floodlight lit up the scene, she saw a high wall and her father standing on the other side. She couldn’t really see him through the wall, but she knew he was there. And he was holding out the shoes, but she couldn’t take them. She would never be able to fly.
11 Pam, April 1942
Selling the painting was easier than they expected. Adrian’s friend Tommy helped. His parents had sold some to a Dutch dealer who made sure the best things went straight to Germany before the occupation army had a chance to steal them.
‘Hitler wants to build a museum in Linz, where he comes from,’ Tommy explained. ‘It has to be the biggest in the world, of course, and a monument to his good taste, which is, of course, the best in the world. He studied art, you know.’ He smiled at Pam, sitting across from him, and said, ‘Adrian told me you don’t know what to sell. I looked at them, and I’m afraid the one you like best is the one they would want.’
Adrian said, ‘It’s the name too, of course, even if Dirck Hals is only the baby brother of the famous one.’
‘And everything else is not good enough?’ It sounded to Pam as though Tommy meant the other paintings were worthless. Her parents loved their Dutch landscapes and so did she. If a German couldn’t see how beautiful they were, too bad for them. She loved those pale skies streaked with clouds, and the fields that went deep into the distance with here and there a few cows resting in the grass. It was a quiet, peaceful, spacious Holland they depicted, their Holland.
‘Oh, first-class, absolutely,’ Tommy assured her. ‘But the people doing the buying wouldn’t know first-class if it bit them, and
Adrian’s right, the Germans go for names. Old names. If it’s all right with you, I’ll ask whether I can bring the painting in. They’ll assume it’s one of ours, my parents, I mean, and nobody needs to come here.’
Ted let out a loud sigh. ‘That’s all I was worried about,’ he said. ‘Thanks, Tommy. I’ll try to phone my mother tomorrow morning and get her okay. How much can we ask?’
‘You don’t ask. My contact will name a price, they’ll bargain, he’ll get as much out of the German as he can and, after he takes some for himself, you get the rest. Don’t expect it to be fair, but that’s how it works.’ He put out his hand and, one after another, they shook it. He held Pam’s hand for a moment. ‘I know how you feel. My sister minded more than anybody else in the family. We grow up with these pictures, don't we, and it’s terrible to think we’ll never see them again.’
‘It’s worse to think about where they’re going,’ she said.
Adrian pushed his chair back and stood up, ‘Time we got going,’ he told Tommy, ‘but I’ll be back for supper.’
‘Eat somewhere else, I’m taking Pam out this evening,’ Ted said. ‘Dinner and a film, how about that! Don’t look so surprised, Pam, I promised you a night out. I’ve got enough money and plenty of food stamps. And there’s a film I want to see.’
‘We’re not supposed to,’ Pam began, but he shook his head. ‘If you think it’s safe, I’d love to.’
She had promised herself she wouldn’t go where people were forbidden to go, but if he said she could, she would. A restaurant! She hadn’t been to one in years, and she wondered what sort of food they could possibly offer. There was so little choice at the markets and, if there was something different and special, the farmers could ask anything they wanted for it, and you needed a lot of stamps too. Would there be meat? Pudding? Whatever was on the menu, she wouldn’t have to cook it or do the dishes afterwards.
Turning the key in the lock, she said, ‘I haven’t seen a film in months, I’m so looking forward to it. Thank you, Ted!’ and she kissed his cheek.
The Time Between Page 12