The Extra

by Kathryn Lasky

  Her dread started to build. She felt that she must tell Unku that she knew what was going on between her and Franz. She turned to find her and saw that she was not five feet away. Bluma and Blanca were talking to her, but Unku’s eyes were locked on Franz and Leni, huddled at the edge of the set. Her face had been transformed into a mask of disbelief and beneath it hatred. Raw hatred. Don’t be stupid, Lilo wanted to say. You are not the one who is supposed to be jealous. Peter Jacob is. Not you!

  Five minutes later, Lilo witnessed another accidental brushing up between Unku and Franz. A word was exchanged. Don’t touch her, Lilo prayed. For God’s sake, don’t touch her. He walked about ten paces away and then turned and looked back at her. The yearning in his eyes was so intense, Lilo felt as though she should look away. Was she the only one who could see this? No! Not the only one! Harald Reinl was staring at Unku. He saw it all. He knows, Lilo thought. He knows!

  She vowed to confront Unku that same day before the shooting finished. But when she did speak to her, she wanted to have all her “jewels in order,” as her father would say before beginning a watch repair. She suddenly felt crushed by the memory of her father bending over the watches with his tweezers, delicately inserting the tiny jewels between the rotating steel parts. The jewels, which were the bearings, had to be perfectly placed for the movements of the watch. There was an orderliness to the way her father worked. Where is he now? she wondered. Is he alive or dead? Had he been fed into the death machine? Devoured? She shut her eyes. Could Django find out anything? If he could slip a script into Arnold Fanck’s briefcase, could he make a connection with someone who might know something about her father? Her head ached. It was as if her brain were being crushed between the two movable jaws of a mammoth vise — her desperate longing for her father and this dangerous game that Unku, her dear friend, was playing. Could she even hope to get her jewels in order to find out about her father and help Unku? At the moment, it seemed more realistic to help Unku avert an impending disaster.

  She decided to go to Django with both problems. When she found him, he was practicing the fingering of the next musical number with Henrik the guitarist.

  “I have to talk to you now!”

  “Now? Can’t you see I’m busy here with Henrik? Henrik is doing so well. He’s going to be able to play better than me soon.”

  “Go on, Django.” Henrik laughed and gave him a pat. “Go talk to your pretty girlfriend.”

  “I’m not his girlfriend,” she shot back. She immediately regretted it, for she caught just the shadow of a look she had never seen cross Django’s face. She was not sure what to call it — crestfallen? But the face had not fallen. It was rather like the moment just before a house of cards begins to slip. Did he think he was her boyfriend, or was he just her friend? Their friendship had been short but ran deep. What exactly was he? she wondered. She reached out and took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

  “All right,” he said quietly.

  They walked off just a few feet. “Can Harald Reinl be trusted?”

  He looked at Lilo with a touch of scorn. “No. Why?”

  “I’ll tell you soon, but tell me why he can’t be trusted.”

  “Because he is insecure.”

  “Why is he insecure?”

  “Because he’s not Arnold Fanck. Doesn’t have half the talent, not one-tenth.”

  “And he wants Leni to like him?”

  “Adore him, but not as a lover. He’s like everyone else around here. He wants to be a star — direct a film of his own — really his own. Leni is his ticket to fame. He’d do anything for her.”

  “I was afraid so,” Lilo replied, and looked down at her bare feet. They were caked with fake mud.

  “What is it, Lilo?” He reached out with his hand lightly and touched her elbow. “You can tell me.”

  I owe this to him, she thought. But owe was the wrong word. Django and she didn’t trade. They didn’t barter or bribe. She could not reduce this to anything so common.

  “What is it, Lilo?” he repeated. “There’s something more troubling you.”

  “There are two things, really.”

  “All right, two things. What are they?”

  “Look, Django, you have so many connections with the Marzahn prisoners. Is there any chance that any of them have connections with ones who were at Buchenwald, anyone at all who would know about my father?”

  “That’s a hard one. I can try and check, but I doubt it. What is the second thing?”

  “It’s Unku — her and Franz.”

  “No!” It was more of an exhalation, a breath, than a word. If Lilo had thought this “intelligence” would be a bruise to his self-esteem, she was wrong.

  “This is bad, Lilo. Really bad.”

  “I know.”

  “What are you going to do?” he asked.

  Me? she thought. He’s asking me? It was an odd reversal. She took a deep breath and began to speak.

  “I’m going to find her right now and talk to her. Tell her I know. Tell her it has to stop.”

  “You can’t tell her right now. There are too many people around. Look who’s coming over.”

  It was Tante Leni.

  “All right, my little urchins, gather round!” She waggled her fingers, summoning them toward her. “Now this is the market scene, where I shall come wandering through and you children must tag after me again like you did when we were in Krün and I first arrived in the village of Roccabruna in my caravan wagon.” She paused and looked about. “Why’s that one not coming, Harald?”

  “Who, dear?”

  “The urchin over there. Get her.”

  It was Unku. Good God! Lilo thought. This is already spinning out of control. Why didn’t Unku come when they were summoned?

  When she arrived, it got worse. Unku was no actress. A scowl was engraved on her face. Stop it, stupid girl! Stop it!

  “You always take your time like this, Miss? When I say ‘come,’ you come!” Leni snapped. One would think that Unku would look down contritely, sheepishly, but no. She looked straight into those beady eyes, her own amber eyes blazing like licks of fire. Observing this scene, one might have imagined that Leni Riefenstahl had met her match in this game, Lilo thought. But of course the dice were loaded.

  “But I love him!” Unku whispered hoarsely hours later. Lilo stared at the two glistening tracks of tears that ran down Unku’s cheeks. She stared so hard, they seemed like twin rivers. She felt herself slipping into them, dissolving into the streams. She began to stammer.

  “I — I — I know. I know. But it is dangerous. She is dangerous. She is very close to Hitler. To all the big Nazis.”

  “What does Hitler care about some Roma girl’s love affair with an actor?”

  Lilo struggled to find the words. “It’s not that. Hitler doesn’t care. But Leni gets what she wants. She went to great pains to make sure you looked as ugly as possible. She made the hairdresser chop off your hair. And she shaved that bald spot.”

  Unku’s eyes twinkled. “Franz loves it. He kisses it.” She touched it with two fingers. She wrinkled her nose. “I hope she keeps shaving it!” Pure defiance! Lilo was getting nowhere. She knew it, so Lilo let her curiosity get the best of her. “So where, or when, does he get a chance to kiss it? Where do you go?” Unku tossed her head back and laughed even though the tears were still wet on her cheeks.

  “Oh, Lilo, you can bribe anyone here.”

  “You bribed a guard?”

  “Not me. Franz.”

  “But when? I always see you.”

  “Do you stay awake all night?”

  “No, but . . .”

  “I get up around two or three in the morning. I go to the toilets.”

  “You meet him in the toilets?”

  “No! Don’t be ridiculous. At the end of the hall, where the toilets are, there is a door. It’s locked, but Franz arranges for the guard to unlock it at a certain time.”

  “And then where do you go? I hope it’s m
ore romantic than the toilets.”

  “Not much.” She laughed. “We go to a service area. It’s an electrical room. Has a high-voltage sign on the door.”

  “God, I hope you don’t get electrocuted.”

  “No, don’t be silly. It’s the perfect place. There is the deep humming of all these machines that drive the power of the whole building. It’s perfect.”

  “Perfect? Doesn’t sound very romantic to me.”

  Unku’s shoulders slumped. “Lilo, have you never made love?” Lilo felt the blood rush to her face. “No, of course not. You’ve never had a boyfriend.” But Unku did not say this in a patronizing way. She patted Lilo’s hand gently. “You’ll see.”

  An unsettling thought struck Lilo at that moment. I could very easily die a virgin. She immediately felt guilty even having such a thought, for on the scale of horrors she had seen in the past several months, beginning with her family’s arrest, then her mother’s sterilization, and finally the murder of Mina, she knew that dying a virgin was rather minor. But still she thought it wasn’t fair. She was suddenly furious. She knew that she was like a child crying out “No fair!” in a game. She might be forever childish. She might die before she even reached sixteen. She might die a child and a virgin.

  Unku lowered her voice and continued. “When you make love, you sometimes make a little noise, and the thrum of the machinery —”

  Now she was being patronizing, Lilo thought, and held up her hand. “Don’t! You don’t need to explain. I get the picture.” She took a deep breath. “Look, the point is that this is dangerous. You’re playing with fire, with this Franz.”

  “Don’t call him ‘this Franz.’” Unku said this almost mournfully. Lilo instantly regretted her words. To call him “this Franz” was harsh. She knew it. For Unku, he was Franz Eichberger and not merely “this Franz.” She loved him. The sadness in Unku’s eyes was almost unbearable. What right did she have telling her not to do this? Unku was putting only herself in danger. Not Lilo. Not anyone else. And so if she was risking all for love in a world where hatred ruled, wasn’t this a good thing? A hopeful thing?

  Every day Lilo was hearing people on the set placing bets on when the action would start on the eastern front. Some said by March, but March was coming soon, just a month away. They had been in Babelsberg now for over three months. The filming continued, seemingly impervious to the war.

  The set painters had worked all night on the fake sunset that the doubles, Lilo and Peter Jacob, were to be riding against. It looked all too garish to Lilo, but then the film was black-and-white so what did it matter? The lighting for this scene was tricky, however, as the two of them on their horses would be shot in silhouette against the sky. A row of arc lights had been dropped from the ceiling to create the harsh lighting required for the scene.

  A thick cushion was put into the saddle for Lilo so she would appear taller, at least three inches taller, to match Leni’s height. The silhouette shot would emphasize any contrasts in stature more than the usual distance shots of them riding. Peter Jacob, aside from being an excellent rider, was the exact same height as Franz and one-half inch taller than Minetti — the ideal double for the horseback-riding scenes. But right now as he strode toward his mount, he had a deep scowl engraved on his face.

  “Bitch!” Peter Jacob muttered as he swung his leg over and settled in the saddle. Lilo heard him. He might not have thought so, but she did. He might not care if she heard him or not. But then Lilo realized that actually he would like to engage her in conversation. He gestured with the reins in his left hand toward “the scene” going on beyond camera range.

  Leni had plopped herself in Franz’s lap and was stroking his cheek. She was a great actress, Franz less so, but he was trying. Most likely he was afraid of losing his job and being sent back to the front — the eastern front. Skiing to Russia, Django would say. Then it was as if Peter Jacob were reading her mind. He slid his eyes toward her. “Not much of an actor, is he?” He laughed. “Perhaps we should do a bit of a counterattack.” He leaned toward Lilo as if to kiss her. Holy Mother! Then in the same moment, there was a sizzling sound, followed by a loud crack of one of the arc lights as it shorted. Sparks flew. Both horses reared up. Lilo saw the ground coming toward her. Horses crashed. Hooves struck the air. My mother!

  “Stop the horses!” someone shouted.

  “Get the Gypsy woman.”

  Oh, my God, Lilo was thinking. They think Mama really does know horses! But then a worse thought: I am not supposed to fall off when Mama is here. What will they do?

  But Lilo was flat on the ground. Bluma and Django were both on their knees, hanging over her. “Are you all right?” It was Django speaking. She realized then that her head was in his lap. He was stroking her hair with those lovely long fingers. Bluma Friwald appeared absolutely frozen with fear.

  “I’m fine,” Lilo said. She bent one leg and brought her foot to rest flatly on the floor, then the other foot. Nothing seemed broken. Her shoulder hurt a bit. The stupid hat she wore as part of the costume had a very stiff crown, and it had somehow slipped back, which had helped protect her head when she hit the ground. The horses appeared to have been caught and were being led back to where the scene began.

  Leni meanwhile was trying to cradle Peter Jacob in her arms.

  “Get away, you ugly bitch!” He staggered to his feet and began walking away.

  “Where are you going?” she cried.

  A hush fell on the set. The only sound was that of the horses breathing. Lilo turned her head toward Peter Jacob. Then every head on the set turned. “To see Eva, my darling Eva. Half your age, you crone.” He spat out each word and continued walking.

  Leni suddenly seemed to shrink. She looked old and frail, even insignificant, until Lilo saw her eyes. A deep shudder coursed through her. She knew that worse was still to come. So dangerous . . . so dangerous — that was all she could think.

  When Lilo returned the next day to reshoot the scene, the first thing she saw was Leni getting up from Franz’s lap. She got up and walked toward her. Lilo felt as if she were caught in the beam of those closely set eyes. “We have a wonderful new double, and I have already given him his instructions. But we’ve altered it a bit. Instead of you being on the left side of the double, as you were with Peter, you can ride just a bit in front.”

  Lilo nodded. “Yes, yes. I’ll tell my mother to go to stage left, then.”

  “Is that really necessary? It didn’t seem she was of much use yesterday. You fell off.” She gave a toss of her head as she said this and laughed lightly. Was that a threat? Lilo wondered. But despite her laugh, despite the coy toss of her head, Lilo felt the heat of Leni’s anger — not at her in particular, just the general devouring anger of a woman who had been scorned. Over her shoulder, Lilo saw Franz get up and shake his head ever so slightly as if in disbelief. She is a monster, Lilo was thinking, and people were her playthings as she turned love to rage. But Lilo wondered what Franz would turn his love to, his love for Unku. Indifference?

  “Please let my mother stand by.” She raised one finely plucked eyebrow. “Tante Leni,” Lilo added quickly.

  Her face broke into a smile. “Oh, silly girl. If you want your mama, sure!”

  Why was she not relieved? Lilo wondered. But she was not.

  “This woman is crazy,” Bluma murmured to Lilo late that night. Neither of them was asleep. It was not simply worrying about her mother or Unku that kept Lilo awake. Her shoulder still hurt from the fall. She was bruised all the way down one side of her body.

  “You just noticed?” Lilo said.

  “I don’t understand what she’s doing with Pedro What’s-His-Name.”

  “Franz — Franz Eichberger. She was trying to make Peter Jacob jealous.”

  “But he isn’t around now. So how can he see them?”

  “I don’t know, Mama. Maybe she takes Franz out to nightclubs or something, goes dancing with him and hopes to run into Jacob. I don’t know. Go to sleep.”r />
  Bluma sighed and turned over. But she was not going to sleep. Lilo knew it. Three or four minutes later, her mother whispered, “You think Papa is still alive?”

  Lilo wanted to say, Of course he is. She wanted to say, Papa is tough. But she knew her father had a heart condition. He was not that tough. He could so easily be dead.

  “You heard about Mauthausen?” her mother asked.

  “What?”

  “From that woman you know.”

  “You mean one of the water-carrying women?”

  “Yeah, she was in the scene yesterday. She’s a nice lady for —” Her mother, Lilo knew, was about to say for a Roma, but she caught herself. “Anyhow, she says at that camp Mauthausen, there is this ‘staircase of death,’ they call it. It goes down into a stone quarry, and the prisoners are forced to carry stones up from the bottom of the quarry. She says there is a saying that each rock costs the life of a man. She heard that her husband and son both died there.”

  “Don’t listen to her, Mama. She doesn’t know anything.”

  But that probably wasn’t true. The Marzahn prisoners seemed to know things that others did not. Perhaps it was because they had been in a camp so close to Berlin. Also a lot of other prisoners had come through Marzahn on their way to other camps. There was a grapevine of information. This was what Lilo had been counting on when she had asked Django to try to find out news of her father. However, with the arrival of the Marzahn prisoners came more rumors of Poland and what was going on in the camps there, especially Auschwitz. There was talk of a giant death machine being readied into which prisoners would be fed. A word began to circulate: porajmos. It meant “devouring” in many dialects of the Romani language.

  Bluma yawned and said sleepily. “Maybe you’re right.” Lilo knew her mother was lying. And, thought Lilo, Mama knows that I know she is lying. She knows that I am lying when I tell her that the Marzahn woman knows nothing. More fiction. And yet she falls asleep. And so will I.