Page 53 of The Pianist's Wife
The man shook his head, his sadness obvious. ‘My wife and two children came too, but they were separated from me when we arrived and I haven’t seen them since. I’m hoping they keep the women and children somewhere nicer.’
Fred refused to let his face fall, coughing to disguise the emotion rising inside of him. The images of the bodies came back to him, the smell inside the room before he was escorted out, the people crying and huddled together, not knowing their fate. He had no doubt that was where this poor man’s family had been taken, but he simply couldn’t tell him. All he’d be doing would be to take away what little hope the man had – any will to survive what they were about to face.
Fred turned away, not able to look him in the eye.
‘Do you think they’ll feed us, since we’re to be working for them?’ the man asked.
And that was when Fred noticed that his striped clothes were hanging from him, his face gaunt, eyes sunken. Unlike Fred with his oversized boots, his feet were bare, the dirt embedded into his skin.
Fred nodded, but in truth, he doubted anything was going to improve for them. There was only one reason Hitler sent anyone to the camps, and Fred was under no illusion that as soon as their labouring skills were no longer needed, they’d be killed too, especially after what he’d just witnessed.
‘Would you like my socks?’ Fred asked, slipping his feet from his boots and giving the man the thicker woollen socks he was wearing.
‘You’re certain?’
Fred nodded. ‘I am. Perhaps we could look out for each other?’
When he put his boots back on, he knew they were so loose that walking would now cause blisters on his heels and toes, if he could even keep them on, but at least this way they’d both avoidtheir feet from freezing. Although no act of generosity would stop him from feeling guilty about not telling the poor man the truth about his family.
‘Do you know where they’re taking us?’
Fred shook his head. ‘I don’t know. They didn’t tell me anything.’
He closed his eyes and turned his face up to the sky.Wherever it is, I hope it’s better than here.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Amira
Amira had been out for most of the morning, with Otto trotting at her side on his leash. She had lined up with her ration book and been able to get a small piece of meat, more of the chicory coffee she’d slowly become used to, a small piece of bread and some fat. There was enough for her to get by on, and she was grateful that Otto was so tiny – she only needed to share a little with him to keep him happy. In hindsight, perhaps she should have continued to stay with Gisele, but as scared as she was of her identity being discovered, she’d desperately needed her own space, away from that house and any reminders of Hans or Gisele’s mother’s impending return. And she felt as if she were looking at the time every few minutes, wondering what Fred might be going through, where he was, whether she was going to be able to do something in time to save him.
As she walked, she looked up at the apartment buildings she passed. Some had gaping holes in their roofs, but others were mostly intact and unaffected by the bombing, with cages for rabbits on the balconies.Balcony pigs. She remembered that Fred had told her what they were when they’d been out one afternoon, and her stomach had turned violently at the fluffy creatures being keptfor their meat rather than their company. He’d told her about the little gardens on rooftops, where families were trying to grow extra vegetables, and about the Jews hiding all over Berlin. She’d known there were many concealed throughout Germany, but she hadn’t realised so many remained in the city, hidden in attics or beneath floorboards, existing thanks to the kindness of others who were risking everything to help them.
Amira carried her two paper bags under one arm, her other hand holding the leash, and as she walked, she realised just how much she thought of Fred. The apartment was full of memories and echoes of him, and she sometimes found herself standing in his room and opening his closet, looking at all his things and inhaling the cologne that seemed to cling to the fabric. Or lying on top of his bed with Otto and trying to imagine where he was and how he was faring. She thought of Maxi often, too, especially when she was struggling to fall asleep at night, but Maxi was gone. Fred on the other hand... Fred might still be alive. And she kept telling herself that there had to be something she could do, that hope wasn’t lost.
‘Amira, isn’t it?’ She turned at her name, surprised to see a well-dressed woman speaking to her.
‘Mathilde?’ she asked, recognising one of the women she’d met from the night Fred had performed, when they were first married. ‘You’re one of Gisele’s friends?’
The woman smiled, and Amira found it hard to look her in the eye, when all she wanted to do was drop her gaze and take in the expensive-looking coat and diamonds on the woman’s fingers. She also noticed that she wore the same bronze Mother’s Cross as Gisele.
‘I was just having lunch with some of the other ladies, and we were talking about finding some new volunteers,’ she said. ‘We started out by knitting woollen socks for our boys away serving,but now we’re sorting through containers of clothes. You wouldn’t consider joining us, would you?’
Amira hesitated, feeling as if she had no choice but to say yes. ‘Of course, I would be honoured to help. I’m finding myself with far too much time on my hands now that I don’t have a job.’ It was probably a fantasy to think that any of the Nazi wives would want to help her, but the closer she was to people with influence, perhaps the more likely she was to have a chance of saving Fred.
‘Well, you’ll only have time on your hands until the baby arrives. My advice is to enjoy the last few months of peace,’ Mathilde said with a conspiratorial grin. ‘How have you been faring? I felt so sorry for you when you came over all faint that night.’
Amira froze, but quickly regained her composure and smiled back. She’d forgotten all about what had happened, and how everyone had presumed she was a pregnant newly-wed. ‘I’ve been fine since, thank you, although I was rather embarrassed on the night in question. I think it was too much excitement for me.’
‘Do you have a good doctor? I can always recommend mine if you need one. We have to nurture these pregnancies, you know, and the first one is often the most challenging.’ She paused. ‘You’re hardly showing at all.’
‘You’re so kind, thank you, but tell me more about this clothes-sorting?’ Amira said, trying desperately to change the subject. ‘It’s so admirable that you’ve made time to volunteer, especially when you have children to care for. When can I help?’
‘We go there every Tuesday and Thursday,’ Mathilde said. ‘In fact, we’re meeting in an hour or so. Would you like to come along today?’
Amira smiled, thankful that she’d been able to change the subject so easily, but panicked about having to spend the afternoon making pleasantries instead of doing something,anything, to help Fred.
‘Surely you don’t have anything more important to do than helping the cause?’
