Night Sky (18 page)

Over the last few months he’d been falsifying the test results, only a little – but just enough to make the Director think the valve was not going to be a success. Only his assistant had seen the results, but he was young and easily persuaded that there were still immense problems to be solved.

But there were no immense problems. Once he had discovered the best way of combining the two types of valve, he was there. Within a few months he’d produced a valve which generated 500 watts on the very high frequency of 3,000 megacycles. Despite its immense power the valve could be made very small, just as he had predicted. The radar that could be developed from the valve would be very small too. And he had predicted that too.

He felt a glow of pride. He had been
right
and Schmidt
wrong
.

It was a pity Schmidt would never know.

He tucked the spool into an inside pocket of his jacket and, wiping the sweat from his forehead, took a last look round the office.

This had been his second home, the place where he had come to do the work he loved, the place he associated with contentment and security and achievement. And he would never see it again.

Oh dear Lord
. He wiped the tears from his cheeks and, closing the door behind him, walked down the passage.

As he approached the main entrance he felt a stab of pain in his stomach. Heartburn, probably. He always got it when he was late for a meal. Then, as he emerged into the darkness, it occurred to him that it was not heartburn at all, but fear.

He looked over his shoulder and, pulling his hat down over his face, walked rapidly into the night.

The room was hot and stuffy and David found it difficult to stay awake. At about four he nodded off. A loud voice announced ‘Next!’ and David woke with a start. He looked rapidly around him. There were three people ahead of him and about fifty behind – there would be many more, perhaps a hundred, in the street. With a bit of luck he might get in today. Otherwise he would have to wait outside in the street all night until they reopened the office in the morning. He’d already been waiting three days.

He looked at the man ahead of him. He was well dressed and prosperous-looking; he’d probably been a jeweller or a clothing manufacturer before the crack-down. They would have confiscated his business by now. Looking at him, David guessed he’d been clever and hidden plenty of money and valuables. Otherwise he wouldn’t have bothered to come here. Yes, he looked the clever sort. Not like me, David thought, with no money and no influence.

It was stupid to come here really. But he was doing it out of duty to Ellen and Cecile. He had to
try
to get the papers, he owed them that much at least.

It was five when he finally got into the
Gauleiter
’s office; David was the last before they closed for the day. A young man looked at his papers and asked, ‘What are your means?’

David thought rapidly. Did they want to know what he was supposed to have or what he
actually
had? After confiscation you weren’t meant to have much left.

He answered, ‘Enough’.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes.’

The young man gave him a hard stare and waved him through to the next room. It was a long palatial office at the end of which was a large desk. Behind it sat a gross figure smoking a Bavarian pipe, and beside him a male assistant with a red ledger in front of him.

David stood in front of the desk. The large man was reading a newspaper. He took no notice of David.

Without looking up the assistant said, ‘Deportation papers will cost you 250,000 marks. How do you intend to pay?’

David gulped. When he’d last heard they had been priced at 150,000 marks which he might have been able to borrow from Ellen’s father. But this!

‘Well?’ The assistant was impatient. It had been a long day and he wanted to get home.

David thought: I must say something – anything – just in case. He said, ‘I’ll pay in cash – but it’ll take a week.’

The assistant looked at the fat man. ‘Herr Deputy Gauleiter, he wants a week to pay.’

‘What?’ The fat man looked irritated at being disturbed. ‘No, no, no! Get him out! No money, no papers.’

It was all happening so fast. David tried to think. He said, ‘Tomorrow then! Tomorrow!’

The assistant stared at him, then nodded briefly. He scribbled on a card and handed it across the desk. ‘This will get you straight in here tomorrow. But if you do not have the money you will be arrested for wasting the Deputy Gauleiter’s time.’

David went out into the street and leant against the wall. He was tired, so tired. He looked at the long line of waiting people, each wearing a star, each with a look of resignation on his face. Probably one in fifty could raise 250,000 marks. For some people it amounted to a lifetime’s pay. For David it was about ten year’s salary.

There was only one source he could get the money from: Ellen’s father. But it would represent a vast amount of money to him, more than his life savings. David shook his head and began to walk. How much was he worth to his father-in-law? Not that much, never that much.

Why then had he bothered to go through that playacting back there? It was a waste of time: he’d known it was no use the moment he’d heard the amount they wanted.

There was no point in going back, tomorrow or ever.

Suddenly David made up his mind and walked briskly away. He’d given them their chance; he’d tried to do things their way. Now they left him no choice.

He took a tram to the Tiergarten. On the south side of the park were some of the principal embassies in Berlin. He hadn’t thought which embassy he would try first: perhaps the British, then the French. If he had no luck there he would try the Americans or one of the Scandinavian countries.

He got off at the end of Tiergartenstrasse and walked. In the park he could see a group of
Jungvolk
training for their initiation into the Hitler Youth. Some were running the compulsory sixty metres, others jumping the 2.75 metre long jump. Another group were sitting in a circle chanting the
Schwertworte
, the short version of the Nazi dogma which had to be learnt by heart. The children looked so sweet, sitting there in the sun in their neat uniforms, that David stopped to watch them for a moment.

As he neared the embassies he pulled his raincoat on. It wasn’t raining but he wanted to hide the star stitched onto his jacket. They might stop him otherwise; they might prevent him from going in.

The first embassy was just visible through a thick screen of trees, an imposing white mansion set back from the road behind metal railings. David was fairly sure it was the United States Embassy. Perhaps he should try there first: in the last ten years the country had taken a lot of Jews in. Yet at the same time it was neutral – perhaps they wouldn’t be interested in trading his information.

David strode on, still undecided. Suddenly he stopped and frowned. There was a group of people on the pavement, standing quietly, waiting. Between them and the gates of the mansion were stormtroopers. The troopers were facing the people, weapons held ready across their chests.

David walked slowly up. It was definitely the United States Embassy. The waiting people were Jewish. No-one was being allowed in. He asked one of the waiting men: no-one had been allowed in for weeks.

It was the same outside the French Embassy, and the British. Except that there were fewer people waiting.

He thought: I’m so stupid; of course they’re not going to let people in. Of course!

The telephone, he should have used the telephone. He walked rapidly throught the streets until he found a post office. He went up to the counter and asked for a booth. The girl behind the counter was young and quite pretty. She glanced up and then stared at him hard. David thought: There’s going to be trouble; she’s going to make trouble. The girl blinked then asked, loudly and deliberately, for his identity papers. The other counter staff fell silent; people looked. David felt in his jacket pocket and passed over his papers. Quickly, he pulled open his raincoat: it was a serious offence to hide the star on his jacket. The girl looked at him triumphantly and said, ‘Non-Aryans are not permitted to use the telephones here.’

It was a new restriction David had never heard of. In fact he was certain that no such restriction existed. But there could be no argument: that was one thing he’d learnt during the last week.

They watched him as he turned and walked into the street. He heard the girl laughing as he closed the door, and the heat of humiliation burnt his cheeks. He shrank into the porch and leant against the cold stone. The tiredness hit him like a hammer. He hadn’t slept properly for three days and now he felt sick with fatigue.

He looked at the time: it was nearly six. The embassy staff would have shut their offices by now anyway. It was too late to do anything more today. Another day gone and nothing achieved.

He thought: I’m tired, just tired.

He went to the station and took the train home. As he walked towards his house he passed the little shoe shop and looked in the window. The posters marked ‘Jew!’ had long since disappeared. Now there was one small notice discreetly placed among the shoes on display. It read: Under new management. David wondered what had happened to Finstein. No-one bothered to ask about their neighbours any more; it was better not to know.

When he came round the bend in the road the sight of the small cosy house no longer thrilled David. Instead it reminded him of his family and his responsibilities. He wanted to protect his family, to provide and care for them. If a man couldn’t do that then he wasn’t worth much.

As he opened the door he wondered if Ellen would be crying again. She had been crying almost continuously since he had lost his job. He couldn’t blame her, of course; she had every reason to cry.

He called a hello and waited for Cecile to come bounding into the hall and give him a hug as she always did.

There was silence and he called again.

The kitchen door opened and Cecile came out. She was sobbing into a handkerchief. She didn’t run up to him but hovered miserably by the door, shaking her head from side to side. ‘Oh Daddy, Daddy!’

David stepped forward, his arms outstretched. ‘My little rabbit, whatever is the matter?’ Cecile had never cried before, not like this. She was usually so brave, so fearless.

Ellen appeared in the doorway behind her. ‘It was no good, I suppose? You haven’t got the papers?’

He shook his head. ‘They wanted … too much.’

Ellen said firmly, ‘Go upstairs, Cecile. I want to talk to your father.’

Cecile gave a sob and ran past him up the stairs. David looked at Ellen in bewilderment. She beckoned him into the living room.

‘David, I have something to tell you.’ She paused and started fiddling with a china dog on the mantelpiece. Eventually she said, ‘Cecile and I are going away. I’ve been talking to my father and we’ve agreed that it’s the only way.’

David looked at her blankly. ‘What do you mean?’

Ellen took a breath and turned to face him. ‘We want the best for Cecile, don’t we? Well, there’s only one way to be sure she doesn’t suffer. And that’s to get right away. I’m sorry, David, but I think it will be better if we …’ She licked her lips nervously, ‘… if we live apart.’

‘Live apart?’

‘Yes, Cecile and I are going away, to a new place.’

‘A new place? But … it’ll be so difficult for Cecile … settling into a new school. And … at least everyone knows us here, accepts us …’

‘Accepts us? Are you mad? Don’t you realise what it’s been like for me? And for
Cecile
? You have no idea what she’s been through at school. They all
know
about you, they all know that Cecile is partly Jewish. They all taunt her, do you hear me, they
taunt her
!’ Ellen was spitting at him, her eyes blazing.

David sank into a chair and murmured, ‘Oh God, oh God.’

‘I told you it was happening, but as usual you had your head in the clouds, where it always is. I told you last November when … when … those awful things happened, but you wouldn’t listen!’

She was referring to Crystal Night, a major pogrom against the Jews; many synagogues, shops and flats had been destroyed.

David shook his head. ‘But wherever you move to they’ll still
know
. You’ll still be my wife and you can’t hide that.’

Ellen drew a deep breath. ‘I am going to divorce you, David. I’m going to take a new name and make a fresh start. For Cecile, it’s for Cecile. You must see … how important it is, for her sake.’

David was dumbfounded.

She couldn’t be doing this to him. The idea of losing his little rabbit was almost more than he could bear. They sat in silence for a while. Then a terrible thought came into his mind. He trembled as he asked, ‘When? When are you going?’

‘Tonight. My father’s coming to collect us in the car.’

David felt as if a vice were tightening around his heart. He gasped, ‘Oh no, oh no. Not yet, please not yet.’ Then he remembered the telephone call and how he would sell his invention. He looked up and said brightly, ‘You
mustn’t
go, not yet. I forgot to tell you. I’ve got to make a telephone call in the morning. There’s a really good chance we’ll get papers. Really! The best chance yet! I’ll go to the post office first thing in the morning.’

Ellen moved impatiently towards the door. ‘David, these schemes of yours …’ She shook her head. ‘Anyway, I don’t want to live abroad. I want to stay here with my family.’

David cried bitterly, ‘I’m your family too, remember!’

But she had gone.

Oh God! He tried to think, he tried to make himself think, but it was no good, he was just too tired. Hopelessness and despair overwhelmed him.

Dear Lord, what have I done? What have I done?

After a while he climbed the stairs to Cecile’s room. He found her lying on the bed, crying silently. He went to her and touched her arm. She reached out to him and together they sat on the edge of the bed, their arms around each other, rocking gently.

David thought: Everything I want is here, my family, my daughter. Is it so very much to ask? What did I do that they should take it away from me?