The Memory Box

by Kathryn Hughes

  ‘Make that two then,’ I say. ‘And order a bottle of the Frascati, too.’

  She frowns at me. ‘Haven’t you had enough, what with all them martinis?’

  ‘I’ve had enough of you telling me what I can and can’t do.’

  She goes to defend herself, but my smile tells her I’m only joking.

  After phoning down the order, she leans on the balcony, staring at the shimmering bay. She turns round swiftly. ‘Hang on. This is it, int it?’

  I nod slowly. ‘Yes, this is the former holiday home of the Grimaldis from Genoa, if that’s what you mean.’

  ‘The Villa Verde,’ she says to show she’s understood. ‘Fancy that. This is where Max hung out then?’

  I can’t help but give a rueful smile. It’s hard to describe exactly what went on here, but ‘hanging out’ doesn’t begin to cover it. I have to smile or else I’d cry.

  I’ve seen from the hotel brochure that the basement is now a gym. From the photographs, it is unrecognisable from the last time I saw it. There are no beams from which to hang people by their feet, no vats of car lubricant for immersing their heads and no tool bench with six-inch nails ready to hammer into knee joints, elbows and hips. It makes me shudder to think about it now.

  ‘Are you cold, Jenny? Shall I fetch you another blanket?’

  Her voice startles me, whipping me back to the present. ‘I’m fine, love. Where is m’laddo with our room service?’

  Right on cue, the buzzer on our door sounds.

  ‘I’ll bung him a couple of euros, shall I?’ she says, reaching for her bag.

  We set the table on the balcony and light the candle in the glass jar. Candice places the silver wine cooler next to it and pours out two glasses of chilled Frascati. I notice she only half fills mine, but I let it go. She helps me into a chair and fusses with the rug around my shoulders.

  ‘Salute,’ she says, clinking her glass against mine. ‘So, you’ve been inside this place before, have you?’

  ‘Unfortunately, I have.’ I reach into my bag and bring out the pebble, rubbing its smooth surface between my fingers before bringing it to my lips. ‘Do you remember me telling you where I got this?’

  ‘The pebble? Yeah, sure, that little girl on the beach gave it to you right before Nico came back. I do listen, you know,’ she teases.

  ‘It was around November 1943 when Il Duce eventually decided to cooperate with Hitler and round up Italy’s Jewish community. Before then there’d been no specific policy on the persecution of Jewish people, but now they were offering a reward for turning them in, can you believe? As much as five thousand lire, double if it was a rabbi.’

  ‘How awful,’ says Candice, biting into a slice of crostini. She scoops up the fallen bits of tomato with her napkin and continues with her mouth full. ‘I can’t imagine anybody would be so mercenary.’

  ‘Plenty were, love.’ I sigh. ‘They were desperate times.’

  ‘What does all this have to do with the pebble?’

  I glare at her. Why is she in such a hurry? She has a piece of basil stuck between her front teeth and I’ve a good mind not to tell her about it now.

  ‘Some stories can’t be rushed, Candice.’ I run my finger around the rim of the wine glass, concentrating my thoughts. ‘I was outside the shop, rolling out the canopy. Even though it was the beginning of December, the sun was out, but it was so low in the sky it was blinding. I heard the scuffle of boots and then someone clearing their throat. I wobbled on the stepladder and turned round to see Max standing next to another officer, both of them officious-looking and rather intimidating.’

  There’s a bitter taste in my mouth and I chase it away with a slug of wine.

  ‘“Frau Bernardi,” Max began, “I need you to come with me.” He’d dropped his affable manner and his formal tone unnerved me. The other officer had a nasty smirk on his face, and my insides turned to water.’

  ‘Oh Lordy. Where did he want you to go?’ Candice asks. I can’t decide if she’s bored with my story and wants to get it over with, or whether she’s so enthralled she just can’t wait to find out. From the way she’s perched on the edge of her seat, her eyes shining, I’ll go with the latter.

  ‘Here, Candice.’ I point at the floor. ‘He wanted me to follow him to the Villa Verde.’ I don’t wait for a horrified reaction, because it’s hard to imagine this place as anything other than a luxury boutique hotel with thousands of five-star reviews on TripAdvisor. ‘I told him there was no way in this world or the next that I would go willingly to the Villa Verde. I said he’d have to arrest me or whatever it was they did. I thought about Nico up in the mountains. I didn’t know any details of what the partisans were doing, but I was sure that wouldn’t stop the Germans from torturing me to find out. It didn’t matter to them that I was just a young girl. So I told him straight. I will not go with you, Herr Fischer. I do not know anything, so you can torture me all you like but it would be a complete waste of your time and mine.’

  ‘Wow,’ says Candice. ‘Standing up to a Nazi, that was so brave.’

  I shake my head. ‘Oh, he wasn’t a Nazi. He was conscripted into the German army and was just following orders. He insisted I go with him, promising I’d be safe. He said he would personally ensure nothing bad happened to me. The other officer gave a snort, and Max glared at him and said something vicious-sounding in German.’

  I swig the last of my wine and hold my glass out to Candice, who duly obliges, although not without a slight pursing of the lips.

  ‘Lena and Enzo were out, so I said I needed to use the bathroom and took the opportunity to scribble them a note. At least if I disappeared, they would know where to look. We didn’t speak for the ten minutes or so it took us to walk here, and I remember Max didn’t look at me once. It was as though he knew we were being watched. When we got here, he said we had to go down to the basement.’ I steal a look at Candice. ‘Nothing good ever comes out of a trip to a basement. I was absolutely petrified. I just knew I was going to be tortured for information. I cursed myself. Nico was right, I was just a silly little girl who’d been duped.

  ‘I was trembling; I felt sick and could barely walk. Max ordered the other officer to leave and guided me downstairs. There were three doors in the basement, but two were firmly closed and bolted. Behind the other door was a room with a massive desk covered with maps and papers, and I remember a metallic smell so pungent I had to cover my nose with my hand. It was the smell of blood.’

  Candice visibly shudders. ‘Oh God, Jenny. That’s so creepy.’

  Creepy is one way of putting it; barbaric, depraved and inhumane would be more accurate.

  ‘There was an SS lieutenant standing behind the desk, his uniform starched and uncreased, not a button or a badge out of place. He fingered the buckle on his belt as though he was going to take it off and whip me with it. Just as my imaginings were about to get the better of me, I noticed a woman not much older than myself sitting on a bench, her legs crossed at the ankles, her hands resting demurely in her lap. From her body language she appeared poised and untroubled, but her face was a mask of pure terror. It was Vanda, Eva’s mother.’

  Candice gasps and her hand flies to her mouth.

  ‘I was ordered to sit on the bench opposite, and then Max and the SS lieutenant exchanged a few words in German before the lieutenant sat down and put his feet up on the desk, a chilling smirk across his face.’ I try to adopt a stern German accent. ‘“You two, no speak,” he commanded. Vanda and I looked at each other and both nodded.’

  Candice is staring at me, her gaze so intense I feel like I’m back in that basement with the eyes of the SS lieutenant pinned on me.

  ‘I barely had enough spit to swallow,’ I continue, ‘let alone speak. Then the door opened and a little girl was shoved into the room. She was dressed in what looked like her Sunday-best coat, and her hair was braided into the two neat plaits she always wore.’ My fingers instinctively close around the pebble.

  ‘Eva?’ whisper
s Candice.

  ‘Yes, it was Eva. I was so confused but didn’t dare ask any questions. The lieutenant spoke in broken Italian to her. He said he was feeling kind and that he was going to give her a choice: to go home with me or stay with her mother.’ I have to stop and take a breath as my voice begins to break. ‘Can you imagine anything so cruel, Candice? Asking an eight-year-old to choose whether to stay with her own mother or leave her behind and go with a woman whose biggest contribution to her life was the occasional free focaccia.’

  I dab at my eyes with a napkin. ‘She had been allowed to bring her favourite toy, a doll, which she clutched to her chest. She looked at me first, and then at her mother. It was agony to watch, Candice. I dreaded what would become of her if she made the wrong choice. With her child’s innocence, it only took her a few seconds to make her decision, and as she took a faltering step towards her mother, I looked at Vanda’s stricken face. She didn’t need to say anything. Her eyes said it all. Do not choose me.

  ‘Eva glanced at me then, biting down on her lip, her eyes as wide and terrified as a startled fawn’s. I looked at the lieutenant reclining in his chair, his hands clasped behind his head, obviously enjoying the hideous spectacle. He knew there was no way she would choose me over her mother. Max was staring down at his feet, and as the lieutenant reached for his cigarettes, I felt in my pocket for the pebble Eva had given me and dropped it on the floor, where it rolled and stopped just next to her. The officer ordered Max to pick it up, and I muttered an apology, but my mission had been accomplished. Eva had seen the pebble and I hoped that she’d remember I’d promised to treasure it forever.’

  ‘She chose you?’ Candice asks, her palm laid across her heart. ‘Please tell me she chose you.’

  ‘She did.’ I nod.

  Candice visibly relaxes. ‘They were Jewish then, Eva and her mother?’

  ‘Yes, they were. I wasn’t able to call out to Vanda as she was dragged from the room by two other SS officers. They took an arm each and manhandled her out of the door. I suppose she sensed she had nothing to lose then, because she turned round and somehow managed to smile at her daughter as she said, “Ciao, piccolo fagiol. Sii una brava ragazza per Mamma.”’

  Candice frowns and wipes a tear from her cheek.

  ‘It means “Goodbye, little bean. Be a good girl for Mummy.”’

  ‘Heartbreaking,’ says Candice, dabbing her cheeks with a napkin. ‘Did Vanda return to collect her after the war?’

  I shake my head. I sometimes wonder what they teach kids in school these days. ‘No, she didn’t. I later discovered that four days after she was taken away, Vanda was gassed in Auschwitz.’

  Candice gasps. ‘Oh my God, that’s tragic.’ She gazes out across the still water of the bay, gentle waves lapping onto the pebble beach, unchanged in seventy-odd years.

  ‘It was a despicable act of cruelty done purely to entertain, a game to satisfy the curiosity of a deranged SS officer.’ I can feel my heart rate accelerating in the way it always does when I think about that day. I have never been able to understand how one human being could be so cruel. ‘Max accompanied me and Eva back to the café. None of us spoke until we arrived, and then Max took hold of my hand and pressed something into it. “I sense this is precious,” he said. I opened my palm. It was the pebble.’

  I suddenly feel drained, as though the life has been sucked out of me. I close my eyes wearily, but then my head nods and snaps me awake. ‘It’s late, love. I think I’d like to turn in now, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘Hang on, not so fast. You haven’t told me about Nico yet.’

  She’s right, of course, and I steel myself once more. ‘There’s stuff you need to know before we get to that bit, Candice.’ I pause and adjust my focus to the peninsula in the distance. ‘Otherwise none of it will make sense.’

  52

  1944

  They were sitting in the café, the door firmly closed against the snowflakes squalling outside. Eva’s tongue protruded in concentration as she wrote out the unfamiliar English words. Jenny turned the paper around. ‘Eccellente, Eva.’ She kissed the top of the child’s head. ‘You are a clever girl. Your mamma would be so proud of you. I know I am.’

  At the mention of her mother, Eva looked down at the table and covered her face with her hands.

  ‘It’s okay, love. You have a good cry. I’m not going to tell you not to cry for your mamma.’ Jenny rose from the table. ‘But I am going to make you some warm toast. My little brother always felt better when his belly was full of toast.’

  Eva removed her hands and managed a smile, even though Jenny was sure her own Italian wasn’t fluent enough for the little girl to understand everything she said.

  ‘Can I wear my new dress today?’ she asked. The bolt of peacock-coloured silk that had languished in Lena’s blanket box for nigh on half a century had finally been released from its prison. Lena had always insisted it was only to be used for something special, and when Jenny suggested that nothing would ever be more important than making a party dress for the vulnerable little girl who had been thrust into their lives, she had agreed without question.

  ‘I don’t see why not, Eva. You look so pretty in it.’

  She wrapped her arms around Jenny’s neck. ‘Thank you.’

  Jenny squeezed her eyes shut. ‘You’re welcome, my love.’

  Nico had been holed up in his mountain hideaway for four months now, working with his comrades on plans to blow up bridges, tunnels and roads in order to destroy or frustrate enemy convoys. Jenny hadn’t been told the specifics and neither did she want to know. It sounded like dangerous work and she feared for Nico’s safety every minute of the day. He wasn’t used to handling explosives and she was terrified he’d blow himself up and end up being maimed or worse.

  She knew from Max that the partisans were more than making a nuisance of themselves. They were becoming a feared and effective fighting force against the German occupation, and Nico was high on their wanted list. Since that day in the basement, she and Max had developed an understanding. They wouldn’t betray each other’s trust. Max didn’t ask about Nico, and in return she didn’t try to persuade him to divulge anything that might be useful to the resistance. It was safer that way, for all of them.

  After an hour’s climb at a steady pace, she came to the clearing where she always had to sit down and ponder which way to go. Only a few years ago, this journey would have been unthinkable. She’d brought her cane, but it was primarily used to bat away branches and undergrowth in order to forge a way forward. She looked around for the chestnut tree on which Nico had carved a mark. Nothing too obvious and certainly nothing that would be of any help to the Germans.

  It was another hour before she arrived at the latest hut Nico had commandeered. He was always on the move, always one step ahead of the enemy. She used the coded knock and waited, her heart pounding with exertion and excitement. After several excruciating minutes, Nico opened the door a crack and pulled her inside. He clasped her frozen cheeks between his hands and kissed her mouth. ‘Oh Jennifer, I’ve missed you so much.’ He caught hold of her gloved hand. ‘Come and sit with me on the mattress, let me warm you up. The others are out collecting wood, so we have a little time to ourselves.’ He grappled with the buttons on her coat, so roughly that one of them popped off.

  ‘Careful, Nico.’ She laughed. ‘What’s the rush?’ She removed her shoulder sack and opened it for him to have a look. ‘I’ve baked some bread, and there is another flask of soup and—’

  He flung the sack to the ground, his breathing ragged as he pushed her down onto the mattress and shifted his weight on top of her. ‘Never mind that now. It’s not my hunger for food that needs satisfying.’ He kissed her neck, his teeth nipping at her flesh, his breath hot in her ear.

  ‘Nico, please.’ She wriggled out from under him. ‘You’re going too fast. I haven’t seen you for weeks, I can’t just—’

  ‘Shush, Jennifer. You love me, don’t you?’ He clamped his
mouth onto hers, rendering her incapable of answering as he pinned her arms above her head with one hand, the other searching under her long skirt.

  She kicked her legs. ‘Nico, please,’ she breathed.

  As his callused hands moved over her body, she froze at his touch on her bare skin. The fight was lost. She was his wife and he needed this. She kissed him back and succumbed, allowing his urgency to overwhelm her.

  Afterwards, she lay in his arms, the contours of his body unfamiliar. He was leaner, harder, and he smelled of sweat and of the outdoors, of the cool mountain air and decaying forest mulch. He stroked her hair with such tenderness she could hardly believe they were the same fingers that had tugged at her so roughly moments before.

  He sat up and dragged the sack over to the mattress. ‘Let’s see what we have here then, mia cara.’ He took out the bread and soup and fumbled around for the last item. When he pulled out the bar of chocolate, his brow creased with confusion. ‘Where did you get this?’

  ‘Isn’t it wonderful, Nico? I thought you deserved a little luxury.’ She laid her head on his shoulder as he turned the bar over in his fingers.

  ‘I asked you a question.’ His voice had taken on a dangerous edge, and she realised her mistake immediately but wasn’t quick enough to make up a convincing lie.

  ‘I . . . um . . . Max brought a couple of bars for Eva,’ she said in a rush. ‘I thought it would make a nice change for you to . . . to . . .’ She faltered as she saw the look in his eyes. ‘Nico, I . . .’

  He picked up the chocolate bar and waved it in her face. ‘Are you trying to tell me that that Jewish girl is still living with you in my home and you continue to fraternise with the enemy?’

  ‘I do not fraternise with Max, I—’

  ‘You’re on first-name terms with a Nazi and you expect me to believe—’

  ‘He’s not a Nazi, he’s just a regular soldier in the Wehrmacht.’