‘I thought you said to leave him here?’ the guard asked.
‘It’s his punishment for corrupting my son,’ Becher added, then slammed shut the front door, leaving the family in the hallway. Anna understood then that the punishment was not for Friedrich.
She looked to Greta whose eyes were wide. ‘Go – go now to him!’
Anna ran from the kitchen, beating the guard to the shed. Isaac was sitting on the floor, his eyes closed, his breath raspy, the writings of J. A. L. wrapped in a piece of cloth on Isaac’s lap.
‘Isaac!’ she screamed at him.
He opened his eyes and smiled at her. ‘Take these.’ He tried to lift the papers.
‘They’re coming to take you – you need to try and get away!’
‘It’s all right, my dear Anna.’ His smile was fixed in place. ‘Take this.’
‘No – I can help you. Please—’
‘Hush, my dear.’ His eyelids flickered as if he were about to fall asleep, then he opened them and placed his hand on her cheek. ‘I love you, Anna. I am a silly old man, I know. But you have made me feel love again.’
Anna could barely see him through her tears. She held him to her. ‘When we danced, I saw you, Isaac, I saw you as you were, as a strong young man,’ she said. ‘You can be strong again. You can. Let me help you.’
Then, just as Isaac started to speak, the guard grabbed Anna by her arm, pulling her upright, bruising her skin and dragging her away from Isaac. She kicked at his shin and took the few steps towards Isaac, holding him in her arms, her tears wetting the top of his head.
‘Go to the infirmary,’ he whispered to her. ‘Pretend you are dead, or hide somewhere in there. That’s where you need to go – trust me. Jan said it was true so it must be.’
As he spoke to her, her hand found the wrapped bundle and she held it to her chest.
There were arms around Anna now, pulling her away. She kicked and screamed at them, and all the time, Isaac smiled and told her it was all right, it was all right.
She hit the damp grass with a thud, and for good measure, the guard kicked her in the stomach. Lying there, clutching her sides, she saw another pair of shining black boots on the ground walking towards the shed. The wind taken out of her, she could barely move, but with each breath she tried to scream out for Isaac.
Hands were underneath her once more, pulling her upright. Greta. She helped her move towards the kitchen door, her arms around her waist to stop her from running towards the shed once more.
She waited, her vision blurry, the greens of the trees merging with the blue of the sky so that she did not know where the sky began.
The guards emerged with Isaac who could barely walk. His feet scuffed the ground, his head to the floor, unable or unwilling to raise his eyes.
‘Pointless,’ one of the guards said.
‘You can do it,’ the other said. ‘But take your time,’ he added as he walked past Anna, grinning at her, a scar above his eye.
Anna fell to the floor, her hands tearing at her dress as she had done when Piotr had died. Huge waves of pain overwhelmed her so that she could barely breathe.
‘Hush now, come on, hush, breathe – in, out, in, out.’ Greta’s voice was firm.
‘I can’t…’ Anna tried.
‘You can – now breathe, come on, in and out.’
‘They’re coming – oh God! They’re coming!’ Liesl was screaming inside the house and grabbing for the handle to the front door.
Anna looked to Greta who already had her hands under Anna’s armpits, pulling her upwards with a strength Anna did not know Greta possessed.
‘Pick that up and hide it.’ Greta pointed at the bundle of papers.
Anna, still sobbing, nodded, picked up J. A. L.’s writings and shoved them down her dress, holding them against her body with one arm.
The engines in the driveway started up, Schmidt’s voice shouting for Friedrich to get in the car, then peppered shots rang out as if there were snipers in the trees at the back of the garden.
‘Come with me.’ Greta grabbed Anna’s arm and made for the front of the house, down the gravelled driveway as the black car driven by Herr Becher, Liesl in the passenger seat, shot past them, the next car driven by Schmidt with Friedrich in the back seat, who, upon seeing Anna, turned and looked out of the rear window, his hand on the glass his goodbye.
‘Isaac?’ Anna mumbled to Greta.
‘Isaac’s gone, Anna. He’s gone.’ She held Anna’s chin in her hand and made her look at her. ‘You’re in shock but you have to try, you have to still try.’
Anna shook her head and felt a wave of fear overcome her – Isaac, the planes, Friedrich, it was all too much.
‘I can’t!’ Anna screamed now. ‘I can’t.’
Greta held her face in her hands once more. ‘Look at me, Anna,’ she commanded. ‘Look at me.’
Anna tried to calm her breathing and stared into the old woman’s eyes.
‘Now, listen. You have to do as I say. You have to put one foot in front of the other and move. If Isaac were here now, if he were in this situation, what would you tell him to do?’
‘I’d tell him to run – to escape,’ she stuttered through thick sobs.
‘Good. Now, calm your breathing. Good, that’s it.’
Anna concentrated on Greta’s eyes, on her voice, and found that her breathing slowed, the sobs becoming small hiccups.
‘Good. Now come on.’ Greta moved them on once more.
They had not walked for more than a minute when a car pulled up, driven by the guard with the scar above his eye.
‘And where do you think you are going?’ he asked.
‘I was just taking her back to the camp,’ Greta said.
‘Is that so? Seems you are going the wrong way.’
‘Oh, so I am.’ Greta turned the other way. ‘Silly old me. Can’t tell my left from my right, can I?’
‘I’ll take her,’ the guard said.
‘No, no – it’s no bother.’ Greta still held on to Anna’s upper arm.
‘I said, I’ll take her,’ he repeated.
Anna turned to Greta. ‘Thank you. I’ll be all right.’
‘You mind yourself.’ Greta stroked Anna’s cheek. ‘You make sure you live.’
‘Get in!’ The guard was impatient – more shots were ringing out; a plane droned overhead.
Anna had no choice but to climb into the car and be driven away from her one chance at escape.
‘Thought you were clever, didn’t you?’ he asked her.
When she didn’t answer, he reached over, his hand on her thigh, pushing her dress upwards, just as Becher had done to her.
‘You all think you are so clever, don’t you? Well, I’ll show you who’s still in charge. Herr Becher is gone, so how about you serve me now, eh?’
He pulled the car to the side of the road and lurched over to grab Anna. In one moment, a moment she would never repeat again, she bit the side of the guard’s face, so hard that she tasted his blood in her mouth. He pulled away screaming, and Anna did not stop, the fury inside her boiling over, her thoughts of Isaac, of Nina, of her brother all welling up. She punched him hard in the groin, then with deft fingers she pulled out the wooden baton on his belt and smacked it on the back of his head so that he slumped onto the steering wheel.
She counted to twenty and he did not move. She climbed out of the car and, hearing only her rough breathing in her ears, she ran to the camp, to Nina, to hide.
The camp was in disarray. New bodies littered the floor, blood seeping from them where bullets had mowed them down. Lines of women were being led towards the entrance to the camp, some of them falling as more shots from watchtowers picked them off.
Anna ran to her bunkhouse and screamed for Nina – was she in the line?
There was no answer, so she ran again. Following a line of women at the rear, she saw Joanna and then, yes – Nina. She grabbed Nina’s arm. Nina looked at her with a mixture of shock and relief. ‘Come
with me!’ She pulled Nina from the line, then saw Joanna fall to the floor, a bullet hole in her back, a bullet meant for her or Nina.
They dodged their way to the back of a bunkhouse and crouched low in the long grass.
‘Where are we going to go?’ Nina asked, her voice breaking.
It was then that Anna remembered what Isaac had said. ‘The infirmary,’ she told her. ‘Come. Come on, quickly.’
The pair ran, tripping over bodies, ducking every now and again when a shot rang out.
They reached the infirmary. ‘Undress, quickly,’ Anna told her. They both undressed, and each climbed into two empty beds, pulling the covers over them. Anna slid the diary under the mattress.
‘Look as though you are dying,’ Anna told her. ‘Look as though there is no point in taking us.’
‘There isn’t.’ Nina was lying flat on her back, her eyes on the ceiling. ‘We are already dead.’
Epilogue
Cornwall, England
1980
The snow had thickened by the time the clock struck twelve and she wondered whether it would keep them all from coming. She sat in an armchair facing the bay window that looked out onto a wide lawn and then further, to the Atlantic Ocean where the sea roughed itself into tall foamy peaks. She could smell the salt from here and loved the days in summer when she would sit in the garden, the sea calmer, bringing her the scent of freshness. Her nose was attuned to any bitter or foul smell, so that she swore she could tell when a vegetable had gone bad, even before it looked rotten.
Her children had got used to her ways, her husband, Frank, too, who even now was in the kitchen making sure everything was ready, not allowing anything to burn or spoil.
She drummed her fingertips on the arm of the chair, counting the seconds. Who had taught her to do that? Her hand reached for her wrist where the watch sat – ah yes, she knew who it was.
Katharina would be late. She was always late for everything, so it was not her car she was waiting to see pull into the driveway. Isaac would be on time – he would have no choice – and Jakub would be with him, keeping him company on the drive, making him laugh and annoying him with the silly songs that he made up.
‘Someone’s here,’ Frank’s voice rang out, and she saw him go to the front door as a taxi pulled up.
A taxi – had Katharina’s car broken down again?
There was a hello, a man’s voice, and then in the doorway stood someone she had not seen for ten years or more.
‘I’m sorry I could not come sooner,’ the man said. He had changed; his hair was a silvery grey, lines now appearing around his mouth and eyes, creasing his tanned skin.
‘Friedrich!’ She stood and took him in an embrace, marvelling at the change in him.
‘I’ve got older,’ he said.
‘Almost as old as me now!’ She laughed.
‘Not quite! You’ve still got a few years on me yet.’
‘I didn’t think you would make it,’ she said, as she directed him towards the purple flowered sofa. ‘I didn’t get a letter back, so I assumed you were away somewhere again on your travels.’
‘I was, but by the time I got your letter, there was no time to reply. I simply got on a plane and now here I am,’ he grinned.
‘Drink?’ Frank asked him. ‘We’ve anything you can think of – wine, scotch, champagne even!’
‘Scotch would be great,’ Friedrich said.
As soon as Frank left, the pair fell into the language that came naturally to them, catching up on each other’s lives since the last time they had seen one another.
‘You still like it here then?’ Friedrich asked her.
‘What – England, you mean?’
‘I always imagined that you would return home at some point.’
‘I’m not sure where home is. I know it has been here, with Frank and the children. That’s enough of a home for me.’
‘I went back, you know, to the house and the camp.’
‘When?’ She sat straight now, her eyes on his.
‘I couldn’t help it. I was on a train platform in Munich and there was an announcement that the next train to Dachau would be leaving in five minutes. Before I knew what I was doing, I was running to catch a train I wasn’t sure I really wanted to be on.’
‘What was it like?’ Her voice was quiet now.
‘The house, my parents’ house, is a museum now. My little red engine in one of the display cases – can you imagine that?’
‘And the camp?’
‘People go there and look around. I never saw it as it was, so I don’t know how it is different, but I saw the photographs that the Americans took, watched the reels of films. I saw it as best I could through your eyes.’
‘I knew it had become somewhat of a tourist attraction, but I have never met anyone who has been.’
‘It’s more than that though.’ He leaned forward and took her hand in his. ‘It’s not for amusement, it’s to educate – so that it is never forgotten.’
‘And yet I have tried most of my life to forget.’
He nodded then sat back, letting the cushions behind envelop him.
‘You look tired,’ she said.
‘I’m always tired.’
‘Still have trouble sleeping?’
‘Scotch helps.’ He raised the glass that Frank had handed him and grinned.
‘Your parents,’ she ventured. ‘They still haunt you, don’t they?’
Fredrich ran his hand over the stubble on his chin, that too turning grey. ‘I know they are dead, but yes, they do. Like ghosts. It’s almost like I can hear them telling me I am useless, or Father berating me for not eating quickly enough. When Mother died, when I was what, seventeen? I thought then that my life would be easier – isn’t that terrible, to be glad when your parents die and not grieve for them? Anyway. It was Father I could not leave. He was almost dead when we arrived in Argentina. He drank to escape what he had done, but it didn’t work; it made him a sad, useless man who soiled himself and needed his son to wipe his behind.’
‘And yet you think of them.’
‘And yet I do.’ He drank the scotch back in one go, and went to find Frank to pour him another.
When he returned, she saw him playing with something in one hand.
‘Is that it?’ she asked, her arms already outstretched, ready to take it from him.
He handed it over and she read the engraving:
Isaac Schüller
remember me
January 1945
‘When did you go?’ She ran her fingers over the engraving, imagining Isaac cutting into it all those years before.
‘After I went to the camp,’ he said. ‘He was right. It wasn’t a shop anymore. It was a cafe – imagine that, me walking in and asking to prise up one of their floorboards!’
‘But you did it,’ she said.
‘I did. I should have gone sooner, but for years, like you, I suppose I wanted to try and forget that part of me, that part of my life. It was only when I was standing on the train platform that I realised I had to face it. Strange, isn’t it, that the way my friendship began with Isaac was over a train, and the one thing that made me return was when I was near a train once more.’
‘It was as if he was talking to you, asking you to remember your promise to him.’
‘If you believe in those kinds of things, then yes, I suppose it was. He told me, the day I said goodbye to him, to find his shop, but also that he could smell lemons,’ Friedrich said. ‘He asked me if I could smell them too.’
‘It was his way of telling you that he was going to die – he knew it, you see – he was so sick; he knew his end was near.’
Suddenly Friedrich started to cry, fat sloppy tears that wetted his cheeks, making him look like a lost boy again.
She sat next to him on the couch and let him weep into her shoulder.
‘He said something else too.’ Friedrich sat up, wiping his nose on his sleeve. ‘He said he was going home to see Hannah.�
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‘But Hannah died years before.’
‘I know. But at the time I didn’t. I remember asking him if I could go with him and he told me not yet.’
She wanted to grieve with him, to share his tears, but she could not – there was something holding her back, a part of her she worried would take over her and not allow her to return to the life she had built.
A crunch of tyres on the driveway as it negotiated the fresh snow gave them both a moment to compose themselves.
It was, as she expected, her sons Isaac and Jakub, soon followed by Katharina who looked as though she had just rolled out of bed, her hair wild, her clothes creased.
‘Could you not have at least ironed them?’ she asked her daughter, who made straight for the glasses of wine her father was handing out.
‘I was busy. Studying all night for exams and then I’ve got that dance recital next month, so I had to practise this morning. I jumped in the shower and now I’m here, so I’d take that as a win!’ She kissed her mother on her cheek.
Isaac was enamoured with the pocket watch of his namesake, whilst Jakub told tall tales of his first year at university – it seemed as though all the girls adored him.
She sat back in her armchair and watched the scene unfold around her, secretly drinking them in. The way Katharina tossed her hair back and how each time she turned, it was as though she was doing a pirouette. How Isaac wanted to know more about the watch – how old was it, where did it come from, how did it work? His inquisitive green eyes behind his spectacles, trying to take in every detail.
And then, Jakub. Her baby.
Three children in four years. She wasn’t overjoyed when she found out she was pregnant with Jakub so soon after Katharina, but when she had seen him, his delicate features, his face that already looked too old, too wise for him, and then that smile, that smile she already knew – she fell head over heels in love with him.
His humour had come on naturally and was so much like his uncle’s – the same teasing silliness and yet, underneath it all, soft and loving.
More people quickly arrived, filling her living room, bringing flowers, food for the buffet and bottles of wine. She meandered between them, talking, laughing, and then there was the tinkle of a knife as it tapped the side of a champagne glass – it was time.
The Watchmaker of Dachau: An absolutely heartbreaking World War 2 historical novel Page 23