Page 13 of The Pianist's Wife
‘They won’t,’ Gisele said, as defiant as ever. Motherhood certainly hadn’t stopped her from being forthright, or from believing that her confidence could save them both. ‘Your father’s work is impeccable, it’s why he’s so valued by the party. No one would dare question someone as high-ranking as him.’
‘But I’m worried that every time I turn Maxi down and ask him to wait until after the war, that he might become suspicious. Sometimes I wonder if it’s more dangerous saying no.’
Gisele shook her head. ‘I think I agree with your father on this one. Having your papers scrutinised for a marriage document is too risky, and besides, there is nothing wrong with asking him to wait.’ She smiled. ‘There is nothing about you or your family that could possibly raise suspicions, so long as your father maintains his role within the party. From what I hear from Hans, he’s indispensable.’
Amira wasn’t so confident. She’d seen the way her father rubbed at his temples each morning as he looked at his reflection in the mirror, not knowing that she was watching; the way he sat until late into the night at their kitchen table, staring into his glass of whisky as if the very weight of the world rested upon his shoulders. She wasn’t naive enough to think she could stay hidden forever; that somehow, someone wouldn’t discover who she was eventually. He’d been careful and his workwasimpeccable, but the party was ruthless when it came to cross-checking documents and their validity when they wanted to be, and it would only take one person to become suspicious for any reason and decide to go looking. It was the reason he’d forbidden her from marrying, because he knewthe scrutiny that went into studying the documents. There would be someone fastidiously checking her family tree and her identity papers if she applied for a marriage licence, and it was a risk that he didn’t want her to take. She might have been prepared to flaunt his rules when she was younger, but her fear had grown deeper over the years until it mirrored her father’s.
‘Gisele, you would never tell Hans, would you?’ Amira asked, as her fears bubbled up inside of her. ‘I know we haven’t spoken of it, about what would happen if he found out, but I’m so scared sometimes I can barely breathe.’
‘No! Of course not,’ Gisele whispered, clasping her hand tightly, just as she had when they’d been girls and Amira had been afraid of the world. ‘You must know by now that I would never betray your secret.’
‘Not even to your husband?’
Gisele shook her head. ‘Not even to my husband. I will never break your trust, Amira. Never, not even for him.’
Boots echoed down the hallway then and both women fell silent as Hans walked into the room, nodding to Amira before going to stand behind his wife.
‘Amira,’ he said. ‘I’m looking forward to our dinner tonight with you and Maxi.’
‘Hello Hans,’ she replied, trying to unsee his SS uniform, conflicted in her thoughts as she reminded herself of the husband he’d always been to her friend, despite the uniform he wore. It was a uniform that made her want to turn and run these days, to scream in protest as she witnessed the violence on the streets, as she saw women dragged by their hair and men beaten with batons. But she was trying her very best to tell herself that not every man wearing it was a monster; or at least that was what she wanted to believe. Not accepting Hans wasn’t an option if she wanted to remain friends with Gisele, even though Amira still found it hard to come to termswith his job or comprehend that the easy-going young man she’d met at the cinema four years ago, and had gone to concerts with to watch Gisele perform, was now a high-ranking party member. But she also knew that the closer she was to a man like Hans, the less anyone would ever suspect her, or so she hoped.
‘Amira, you are well?’ he asked.
‘I am, thank you for asking.’
‘And your father? I trust he’s being kept very busy with his work?’
‘He is very well too, thank you, although I’m looking forward to his return.’Only he isn’t well, Hans. He is struggling with the violence he’s witnessed against people who are no different than his daughter. He is being eaten alive in the knowledge that his wife would likely have been murdered by now if she’d still been alive, forced to feel grateful that she didn’t have to see what her beloved country has become. That she didn’t have to fret for the life her daughter is being forced to live; that she didn’t end up in the one of the camps he is being forced to work inside of.
But instead of saying all that, she smiled pleasantly back at Hans, who by all accounts seemed very happy to be chatting with his wife and his wife’s best friend. And so long as she ignored the iron grip around her throat whenever she imagined what it would be like if he ever discovered her secret and realised she’d deceived him, all would be fine.
‘Well, I look forward to hosting you and Maxi tonight. It’s a lovely reprieve to be having a dinner party before Maxi ships out again.’
She smiled politely as he nodded to her and pressed a kiss to the top of Gisele’s head, before leaving the room and closing the door behind him. As usual, Amira found herself expelling a large breath the moment he’d gone, no longer on tenterhooks at having to speak to Hans. It was easier seeing Hans when Maxi was there,as the two men talked and the conversation wasn’t directed at her, and she doubted that even Gisele could understand the true depth of her fear at having to pretend she was someone she wasn’t. She had to pretend with Maxi too, but somehow she didn’t have to hold so much of herself back with him.
Even though Amira knew she was as safe as she could be, given her heritage, she still froze sometimes when she stood in line at the store, or walked the streets; the panic that rose inside of her was so great that it almost stole her breath away. And when she saw Hans, she thought of the round-ups that were happening all over Berlin, of the men like him who were in charge of such things. They were what she feared the most: the knock on the door in the middle of the night, the screams from other apartments, the entire families who vanished from a street. She was only ever one investigation away from vanishing alongside them, which meant that her father had to ensure that his work was always perfect, that he was relentless in his ascent within the party.
Tears shone from Gisele’s eyes as she looked up at Amira. ‘Maybe when Maxi leaves, you can lie low for a bit,’ she said. ‘I can see how jumpy you are today.’
‘Do you think Hans noticed?’ Amira stared back at her.
‘No, of course not. But I can sense the change in you,’ she said. ‘I’m sure you’ll feel better as soon as your father is home.’
Amira stood and went to sit with her, pressed to Gisele’s side, and dropped her head to her shoulder.
‘I’ve survived this long, haven’t I?’ Amira murmured, while the child in her friend’s arms stretched and stirred from slumber. ‘Perhaps I need to stop worrying.’
‘This is all going to be over soon anyway,’ Gisele said, as if to convince herself. ‘It has to be. You’ll be studying to be a teacher before you know it. We can’t give up on our dreams.’
Amira had long since given up hope that any of what was happening would ever be over, but she didn’t argue. For what did they have, if they didn’t have hope? Although, so much about their dreams had changed – Gisele had long ago given up music, with motherhood taking over from her previous dreams of being a famous flautist, and as much as Amira still wanted to be a teacher, her biggest dream now was simply to live a full life without hiding who she was.
‘Of course it will,’ she said, thinking of her mother and remembering how resolute she’d been about all of the nonsense being over within months. And yet here they were, all these years later, with Jews being rounded up on the streets and shuttled away in trains to the awful camps. She doubted it was a sight her mother could have ever imagined. ‘And besides, if I ever had to disclose my true identity, if my hand were somehow forced...’
Her father had tried to shield her from the truth, but Amira knew the reality of her situation – what would have happened to her if she’d not been so well hidden – and it made her stomach clench as she looked down at little Lukas.
‘There’s something I’ve been thinking about, if I was ever faced with the choice of being sent away or living my life,’ she said, knowing how much Gisele would hate what she was about to say. ‘If I had a voluntary sterilisation, they wouldn’t send me to one of the camps.’
‘No,’ Gisele said, shaking her head as she began to cry. ‘You will not. I won’t allow it. That cannot be something you ever do willingly, not when you’re so amazing with children. Have you seen how my own daughter lights up when you’re around?’
