Page 54 of The Pianist's Wife
‘Of course not, I would love to,’ Amira said, as a bead of sweat broke out on her upper lip. ‘Let me get these groceries and the dog home, and I’ll be there just as soon as I can.’
The other woman beamed and gave her the address, and Amira forced herself to wave goodbye, hoping Mathilde hadn’t noticed how nervous Amira was, before hurrying in the direction of her apartment building. She had to pray that they hadn’t heard about Fred, but going meant being accepted into their circle. And the more accepted she was; well, hopefully the less likely it was that anyone would become suspicious of her. Or so she hoped.
Amira checked the address Mathilde had given her and approached the building with trepidation. Ever since Fred had been taken, her level of suspicion had risen, making her jump at every shadow, her breath often coming in shallow pants as she walked, not even realising how nervous she was until she heard her own short exhales.
There is no conspiracy to capture me, she told herself as she ascended the steps. If the SS wanted her, they would simply come and take her, it was as simple as that. The very fact they hadn’t come told her she wasn’t under investigation – yet. And that Hans had kept her secret, for now at least.
‘Amira!’ Mathilde exclaimed, seeming to spot her the moment she walked in.
The other women who were gathered all looked up, their smiles friendly given Mathilde’s welcome.
‘Well, you’ve all certainly got your work cut out for you here, haven’t you?’ Amira said, taking off her coat and placing it over her handbag. ‘Where shall I put my things?’
‘We all put our belongings over there,’ Mathilde explained, pointing before looping her arm through Amira’s and lowering her voice. ‘We wouldn’t want our things to get mixed up with any of this.’
‘Or to touch it,’ another woman said, making a face. ‘It hasn’t been laundered yet, and I pity the poor souls who receive it not realising it’s sullied.’
Amira left her bag and coat where she’d been instructed and rolled up her sleeves, knowing that she was going to have to make a huge effort with the other women, to ensure that they welcomed her into the fold. If she could get them onside, then perhaps she could slowly convince them all how ridiculous it was that Fred had been taken, which might just lead to their husbands being enlisted to help. It wasn’t foolproof, but it was something.
‘It’s all been checked for valuables, but our job is to sort it properly for distribution,’ Mathilde said. ‘Just watch us and you’ll soon get the hang of it.’
‘I’m Jan,’ the woman to her left said. ‘Mathilde’s told us all about you.’
Amira reached for a beautiful coat and ran her hands across the soft wool, smiling at the other woman.
‘Well, I hope only good things,’ she said with a smile, before looking up at the enormous volume of clothes and shoes that filled the warehouse. She’d never seen so many garments in one space in all her life. ‘Where on earth do all these things come from, anyway?’
‘The camps,’ Mathilde said, with a grin. ‘They take them off all the Jews after they’ve...you know.’
Amira dropped the coat as if she’d been holding hot coals, her face clearly showing her horror.
‘Oh, look at her!’ Jan giggled.
Mathilde joined in, and soon all the women were laughing at Amira, as if she were the funniest thing they’d seen all day.Thatwas why they’d said it was sullied? That it should be laundered? Because it had belonged to the Jews? These things had been taken off them after they’d arrived at the camps, leaving them with nothing?
‘We were all the same,’ Mathilde said, patting her hand. ‘In the beginning, we were most uncomfortable, but my husband has assured me you can’t catch anything from just touching their clothes. There are no actual diseases on their skin.’
‘And in case you’re wondering, they take them off before they gas them,’ Jan said, matter-of-factly, as if she were talking about the weather. ‘They wouldn’t let us touch them if that was the case, our men wouldn’t stand for it.’
Amira gingerly reached for the coat again, realising she was going to have to play along, as sickening as it all was, even though she felt as if she could barely breathe past the horrors of what they were saying.
‘They send all their clothing back here, to Berlin?’ Amira asked, as she inspected the coat and folded it, before placing it with the other coats that had been checked.
‘All of it,’ Jan said. ‘They trick them into thinking they’ve got a chance, from what I’ve heard. My husband told me they tell them to pack a suitcase, a piece of hand luggage and a rucksack, but other than what they eat on the journey, everything gets taken when they arrive. But it keeps them calm, makes them feel as if they’re going to be re-settled somewhere, you know? It’s easier when they don’t fight.’
Amira nodded. ‘I had no idea,’ she said. ‘And where do all these clothes end up?’
‘With families who can’t afford to buy new,’ Mathilde said. ‘Some of the silly Jews even pack expensive tea sets, as if they’re off to a new house instead of a camp, and it all comes back here. They don’t get to keep athing.’ Her words were revolting, but Amira only smiled and continued with the task she’d been set as she listened to them talk.
‘Do you know what happens at the camps?’ she asked, trying her very best to sound nonchalant.
‘Who cares? So long as they don’t come back, why even think about them?’
Amira nodded politely, forcing a smile and trying to appear engaged as they moved on to talking about their hairstyles and moaned about not being able to buy new dresses, and bragged about their perfect little children. But inside, she simmered with anger at how inhumane they were.
‘Amira, I’ve been telling the ladies about your gorgeous husband,’ Mathilde said, as a new box of clothes was brought over to them. ‘Tell us, does he play the piano for you at home?’
Amira looked around at all the women, their faces turned to hers, and hoped that her red cheeks didn’t give her away. She had the most awful notion that one of them, maybe even all of them, might know what had happened.
