Page 58 of The Pianist's Wife
Hans frowned. ‘What do you mean, that’s what you’ll do?’
Amira stared him straight in the eye. ‘I shall join Fred at Buchenwald.’
He laughed. Then his face tightened into an expression she’d never seen him wear before. ‘Amira, that’s ridiculous. You are not going to Buchenwald. It’s a place to be avoided at all costs.’ He shook his head. ‘And given your heritage, given everything you’ve done to stay hidden, the secrets you’ve kept...’
She folded her arms. ‘Fred is my husband, and if you can’t get him home to me, then you shall find a way of getting me to him. He will never survive that place on his own.’
Hans shook his head. ‘Amira, you can’t do this. I won’t let you. What even makes you think that you would survive there? Do you think he’d be happy aboutyoubeing behind barbed wire?’
‘I wasn’t asking for your permission, Hans,’ she said, sitting up a little straighter. ‘What would it entail, my voluntarily going there?’
‘I’m not having this conversation with you, Amira!’ he said, standing abruptly and stalking away from her.
She stood and poured him a brandy, watching as he downed it and looked back at her. She poured him another drink and a very small one for herself, too. Her one sip of amber liquid burned aparticularly fiery path down her throat and sat uncomfortably in her stomach, although it did help to settle her nerves.
‘Amira,’ Hans said, now sitting on the edge of his chair. ‘You can’t consider this. It would be suicide, and Gisele would never forgive me if I helped you.’
She gripped her glass in her hand. ‘Just humour me, then,’ she said. ‘If I were to do it, what would I need to do to stay alive?’
‘Amira . . .’
‘If you help me get to Fred, it will keep me away from your family. You won’t have to worry about keeping my secret,’ she said, seeing the change in his stare, knowing that no matter what he might have said privately to Gisele, he would likely do anything to get her out of their lives.
He made a noise like he was grinding his teeth.
‘So, what do you say?’
Chapter Twenty-Six
‘Please don’t ask this of me, Amira,’ Hans pleaded. ‘I’m prepared to help you, but that’s not something you can ask of me. It’s not even within my remit, and if Gisele knew I’d done anything to help place you in harm’s way...’
‘How about you let me worry about how to tell Gisele. I’ll make sure she believes it was all my idea.’
He finished the rest of his drink and stared into the glass for a moment, before slowly looking up. ‘You have my word that your secret’s safe with me, but what you’re asking of me...’ He paused.
‘Hans, please. Just tell me how this would work. I imagine I can’t just turn up at the camp gates and ask to be admitted.’
‘Amira, no,’ he said, lighting another cigarette to replace the one that he had just stubbed out.
‘If I stay here in Berlin, Amira’s mother could see me and I could be discovered and sent to an even worse camp, one where I’d be killed on arrival, or the SS might come looking for me and accuse me of being part of a sham marriage.’ She levelled her gaze on him. ‘Hans, just tell me how you would send me to Buchenwald, if I were to do this. Hypothetically.’
Hans bent forward, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped. He looked more serious than she had ever seen himbefore, as if he couldn’t believe he was even having the conversation with her.
‘There are a number of prisoners in the Fichtenhain Special Camp, which is essentially an isolation barracks set away from the main camp and not far from the armament factory. They are mostly people of importance, such as political leaders, but there was even a princess there until recently, Mafalda of Hesse. They have specially assigned guards watching them to ensure their safety, and I presume to make sure they don’t escape, and they receive much better rations and living quarters.’
Amira listened, leaning closer.
‘You spoke of the princess in the past tense,’ Amira said. ‘What happened to her?’
‘She was injured when the building she was in received a direct hit from an air raid attack. The doctor amputated her arm, which was badly injured from what I understand, and the official paperwork states that she died due to an infection after the surgery.’
Amira chose not to ask any more questions, horrified that a woman could lose an arm in such a way, let alone die from it.
‘The only way you would have a chance of survival inside the camp, would be if you and Fred could be transferred to Fichtenhain,’ Hans said. ‘It would all depend on him being transferred there, but Amira, if I’m being honest, he might well survive without you if he could be transferred. Why risk going there at all if—’
‘I cannot lose him, Hans. I cannot lose him, too,’ Amira said. ‘I know that he won’t make it without me. Having me there will give him something to fight for, a reason to live.’
‘You love him this much? That you’d risk entering a camp for him?’
