Page 18 of The Pianist's Wife
‘I would love for you to work for us,’ Gisele said, beaming back at her. ‘All this time I’ve wished to do more for you, and the answer has been there in that horrid little book.’
‘And you don’t—’
‘Don’t say it,’ Gisele said.
‘But what if my being with you endangered the children, or put you at risk, or—’
‘Saved your life?’ Gisele asked. ‘Amira, this will keep you well out of harm’s way, and that’s what matters. Don’t start second-guessing a good plan.’
‘No, I should never have said anything. It wouldn’t just be you or me at risk, it would be your entire family. I can’t ask you to do anything that would—’
‘I’m not turning my back on you if there’s something I can do to help,’ Gisele said.
Amira hesitated. ‘If we did this, if I came to help you, you would have to promise me that you’d pretend not to know if anyone came for me. It would be my lie and my lie alone.’
Gisele stared at her for a long moment before finally nodding.
‘And you’re certain that your mother won’t want to come to the ceremony or stay with you?’ Amira asked. ‘I know she lives hours away, but—’
‘You let me handle my mother,’ Gisele said. ‘I promised you when we were just children that I wouldn’t let my mother near you, and I will keep that promise until my very last breath. She’s still caring for my grandmother, so there’s no chance she would come, and certainly not without writing first.’
They both sat in silence for a moment. Amira’s breath sounded loud to her own ears. ‘Well, when would I start?’ she finally asked.
‘I think you should start immediately! Then, when I receive the award, I can make it clear that I already have someone assisting me, and that you’re the daughter of SS Standartenführer Schäfer, who has recently passed away. Why would anyone even think to question us?’
‘You truly think it would work?’ Amira asked, just as the rest of Gisele’s family came bustling through the door to the hospital room.
She looked up at Hans, with a still-little Lukas in his arms, as well as Archie and Frieda who came toddling over to Amira, hugging her around the legs. Hans was dressed in uniform, as always, and Amira looked away, uncomfortable seeing him in it. She tried so hard to pretend otherwise, but it always managed to make her stomach clench just thinking about what it represented and what he might believe in. It was impossible to know whether he was a man doing his duty, or one who believed wholeheartedly in the politics of the party, and she still found herself wondering if Gisele knew, or whether she preferred not to.
‘I know it will work,’ Gisele said over the noise, as she opened her arms to Lukas, who wanted to curl up in the arm that wasn’t filled with the new baby. ‘The award means something, it gives me a voice, or at least a small one, and if it means helping you...’
‘Still, I think you should ask Hans first,’ Amira murmured, not realising that he could hear.
‘Ask Hans what?’ he asked, looking between them.
Gisele smiled sweetly at her husband. ‘I shall ask him shortly, but I already know that he’ll say yes. Unless of course he’d like to be the one running around after our children all day?’
Amira had experienced many unsettling moments in her life; heart-wrenching moments that she’d sometimes wondered if she would ever recover from. But never had she felt so deeply uncomfortable as she did on the second Sunday in May when she travelled with Gisele’s family to see her receive her award. She was relieved that it wasn’t too grand – a practical affair by all accounts, with a stage set up outside a large hall and families gathered in the fresh air. All around were well-dressed women with young children, further surrounded by their extended families to commemorate the mothers who were receiving their special awards.Prizes, for populating the Reich with more and more German children. Pure children. Future soldiers for Hitler and his great army.Amira’s mother would have had something to say about this; she still remembered her whispering to her Jewish friends that they must encourage their daughters to have as many babies as possible, to ensure there was a new generation ready to tell the world the truth, so that it didn’t end with them.
Gisele’s sandy-haired older children were on either side of Amira, holding her hands, with Lukas positioned high in his father’s arms and Gisele cradling her newborn baby, Ben.
They all clapped politely when Gisele crossed the stage and bowed her head, the blue and white ribbon placed around her neck so that the medal hung at the centre of her chest. Amira hadnoticed that most of the women on the street had altered them and pinned them to their jackets or coats, a badge of honour worn as a soldier would display his military awards, and she imagined that Gisele might do the same with hers. Gisele might be her best friend and the keeper of her secrets, and they might have laughed about the award, but she did wonder if Gisele wasn’t just a little proud of it. She’d given birth to four children after all, and devoted herself to being a wife and mother; it made Amira uncomfortable, but it was the truth. They were still as close as two friends could be, but sometimes the differences between them stretched so wide it quietly terrified her. She couldn’t help but wonder if any of this – marriage, children, celebrating being a mother – was in her future anymore.
Soon Gisele was walking back towards them, having been released from the group she’d been standing with, and Amira watched as the children flocked to her, fascinated with the medal their mother now wore, and clamouring to touch it. Amira tried not to recoil as Frieda ran her little fingers over the swastika in the centre, set on the white centre of the blue and bronze cross, her eyes wide with wonder.
‘Congratulations, Gisele,’ Amira said, watching Hans embrace his wife and kiss her cheek as he congratulated her.
All around them other families were doing the same, and despite knowing better, Amira had the most horrible feeling that everyone was staring at her. That someone, somehow, was questioning who she was and what she was doing with the family. That they’d know she didn’t belong.
Only that morning, she’d stood in the apartment she’d once shared with her father, staring at the modest surroundings and knowing that another family would be moved in by nightfall. All of her belongings had been reduced to two large suitcases and a few smaller bags which, although heart-wrenching, was so much more than what many others had been forced to leave with. Anddespite trusting in her decision, she’d also devised an emergency plan, carefully sewing her mother’s most precious jewellery into the lining of her best coat, just in case she needed to leave in a hurry. And in her pocket was the last letter she’d received from Maxi, more than two months ago.
Come home, Maxi. Please, whatever you do, just come home.
Chapter Eight
The villa that Gisele and Hans lived in was familiar to Amira – she’d been there countless times to visit her friend after all, as it was within walking distance of her apartment – but arriving with all her possessions and standing at their front door still felt deeply unusual. She lifted her hand to knock, knowing she could have let herself in, but not quite ready to accept that this was her new home. Part of her still expected her father to come back, for it all to have been a misunderstanding, for none of what was happening to be true.
‘Mira!’ Frieda squealed as the door swung open, a big smile lighting up her face as she saw her.
