The Pathfinder (24 page)

‘They will really take them?'

‘In one of the Sunderlands. The flying boats. They go from the Havel See. They have some room on the return journey.' He smiled at her. ‘Rudi will like that.'

‘Yes, he will. Very much.'

‘Do you have suitcases? Or something to put their things in?'

‘There is one suitcase for Grandfather. And we have an old canvas bag I could use for Rudi. There is not much for them to take.'

‘I'm arranging for an RAF corporal – a Corporal Haines – to come and meet you with transport at the Brandenburg Gate. He will wait inside the British sector, just beyond the barrier. It's safer that way, in case the Russian guards cause any trouble. Can you get there all right, do you think?'

‘Oh yes, we'll manage.'

He said apologetically, ‘I'm on duty or I'd come myself.'

‘We would never expect that. What time will the corporal be at the Gate?'

‘Early. By seven o'clock.'

‘We'll be there.'

‘Do you think you'll get through the barrier OK?'

‘Usually it is all right, so long as one has the correct papers. People go back and forth all the time. Working, visiting, shopping. The Russians make difficulties if they can – search everything for black-market goods, take their time, insult us. Sometimes they arrest people. You never know . . .'

‘I'm sorry, but the corporal won't be able to wait.'

‘I understand. Can I go with Rudi and Grandfather – to the flying boat? To say goodbye?'

‘Yes, that's fine, but I'm afraid you'll have to get back here on your own somehow. I'm awfully sorry about that.'

‘I will manage,' she repeated. ‘Where will the flying boat take them?'

‘To their base at Finkenwerder at Hamburg in the British zone. Then it depends what the medicos there think – hospital or a nursing home, or some kind of foster home. They'll be well looked after, you don't need to worry.'

‘I'm not worried,' she said. ‘Only grateful. Will you come and tell Rudi yourself?'

Eleven

Grandfather refused to be hurried. Lili had packed up their luggage the night before – his old leather suitcase, stuck about with tattered labels from journeys he and Grandmother had made long, long ago before the First World War, containing the few garments he possessed, all as clean and presentable as she could make them. The canvas bag had been filled with Rudi's motley assortment of clothing, some of his favourite books, his scrapbook, and the little metal Dakota that the squadron leader had given him. The Tiger Moth plane, being too fragile, had to stay behind. She had sworn to take care of it.

Dirk was on the night shift at Tempelhof and without him it was going to be twice as hard. She had risen in the pitch dark by five and bundled her grandfather out of bed, washed him in cold water and dressed him in his warmest clothes while Rudi got himself ready. Then she gave them both a piece of dry bread and a slice of sausage and some extra to carry in their pockets. She would have liked to heat some of the leftover soup for them to drink but the stove was out and there was no time.

It all took so long, with Grandfather so confused and querulous, and it was nearly six o'clock by the time they set off – Rudi carrying his bag and herself the suitcase. Grandfather tottered along unsteadily and they went at a snail's pace down Albrecht Strasse, under the U-Bahn archway, over the bridge across the See. It was still dark and the gas street lamps gave a poor light. Grandfather kept stumbling over things and she had to hold on to both him and the suitcase while Rudi clutched his other arm.

‘We must go faster,' she kept urging. ‘Please try to walk a little quicker, Grandfather. We mustn't be late. It's very important.'

Of course, he didn't understand why it was so important. He grumbled away and went on stumbling and they went no faster at all. She and Rudi half-dragged the old man down Friedrich Strasse. The ruins stood black and silent as tombs on each side and the only sound was the dragging shuffle of Grandfather's feet and the wooden click-clack of her and Rudi's urgent steps as they coaxed him along. At last they reached the point where the street crossed the Unter den Linden and they turned towards the west. Ahead, she could make out the great mass of the Brandenburg Gate – still so far away. Too far. It was already twenty minutes to seven. Grandfather had started to cough and stopped suddenly, sagging between them, and they struggled to support his dead weight. Once he was down, she knew they would never get him to his feet again. In desperation, she shouted at him harshly – something she had never done before – and went on berating him until he began to totter forward again, making small sobbing sounds. She was horrified to realize that he was weeping.

Their progress was agonizingly slow but, at last, they came to the Gate and passed under one of its mighty arches to approach the barrier. The British sector beyond the barbed wire, where every lump of coal for lighting had to be flown in, lay in complete darkness. Again, Grandfather stumbled, lurched, almost fell. A Soviet guard stepped forward and flashed a torch into their faces.

‘What's going on? Who is this old fool? Is he drunk?'

Lili said, ‘No my grandfather is not drunk but he is not well. We are taking him to stay with my aunt who lives in the British sector.'

‘At this hour?'

‘I have to go out to work later on. He must not be left on his own. His mind is not clear.'

‘Where are your papers?'

She fumbled in her bag and handed them over. The guard beamed his torch onto them. On the other side of the boundary she could hear the noise of a vehicle – a car or small truck. She could see its lights approaching from the direction of the Tiergarten. The vehicle stopped and the head-lights dimmed, leaving only the pinpricks of sidelights. The guard was taking his time with the papers, the way they always did. She dared not look at her watch in case it annoyed him into taking even longer, but she knew that it must be seven o'clock by now.
I'm sorry, but the corporal won't be able to wait.
At long last the papers were handed back and she urged Grandfather forward.

‘Halt. Not yet, Fräulein. Not so fast. What is in that suitcase? Open it, please.'

She knelt down on the road and undid the case, fumbling feverishly with the rusty old clasps to lift the lid for him. The guard shone his torch and rifled through the contents, turning everything upside down, making a jumble of the neatly packed clothes and spilling some of them out onto the road. He kicked at the case, disappointed. ‘The boy has a bag. He is going too?'

‘Yes. He is my brother. He is also going to stay with his aunt.' She was gathering up the spilled clothes, piling them back in anyhow, fumbling again desperately to close the lid.

‘What has he in the bag?'

‘Show it to him, Rudi.
Quickly
.'

She heard the vehicle's engine starting up again, saw the headlights flick on and could have wept with despair. The corporal was going to leave without them. The guard had found the little Dakota and seemed amused by it. He held it up, spotlit in the torch beam, the metal shining. ‘American plane. I have seen these. I shall keep it.'

‘Yes, please keep it. You're most welcome. Can we go now? We are very late.'

‘Take your old fool away. He's no use to anyone.' The guard shoved Grandfather hard in the back so that he staggered helplessly. She and Rudi grabbed his arms to steady him. The barrier pole went up and they hauled him across the white line and into the British sector.

The vehicle – a small truck – was backing and turning to leave. Lili let go of Grandfather, dropped the suitcase and ran towards it. She flung herself in front of the headlights, arms outstretched. There was a screech of brakes as it stopped only a foot or two away from her and the driver yelled furiously out of his window. ‘Blimey, you want to get yourself killed?'

She went up to him. ‘Corporal Haines? I am Lili Leicht. We were to meet you here.'

His tone changed. ‘Thought you couldn't make it, miss. I was just about to push off. Couldn't hang about, see.'

She could barely understand what he was saying. ‘I am sorry to be late. My grandfather and brother are here too. I will bring them at once.'

He got out and helped her heave Grandfather up into the back of the truck. Rudi scrambled up after him. ‘You hop in, sweetheart. I'll see to the bags.'

The truck gathered speed down the East-West Axis between the desolate wastes of the Tiergarten. Grandfather slumped exhausted in a corner; Rudi's thrill at the ride was spoiled by the loss of his precious Dakota.

‘Do you think the squadron leader could get me another one?'

‘I don't know. Perhaps.'

‘Will you ask him? You could send it to me.'

‘I may not see him again.'

They headed west across the city, through the borough of Charlottenburg and then to the south out into the suburbs and the dark pine forests towards the Havel See. From time to time the corporal shouted something over his shoulder from the front but she could neither hear nor understand him properly.

When they reached the shores of the lake, it was beginning to get light. Gatow airfield was close enough to be able to hear the constant roar of aircraft coming in to land and taking off.

‘They don't never stop over there,' the corporal shouted. ‘Night and day. One every three minutes. It's a bloomin' miracle they don't buy it more often.' He pointed across the lake to a pale shape floating on the water like a great white whale. ‘Look, love, there's the Sunderland.'

There was a building beside the lake and more trucks and men in Royal Air Force uniform moving about. A group of children stood huddled together on the bank beside a pontoon, wearing lifejackets. The corporal helped her down out of the truck. ‘Easy does it, miss.' Grandfather was shaky and babbling nonsense to himself. She had made a cardboard label for him and tied it to a buttonhole of his coat with string.
Wolfgang Leicht. Aged 79 years, 8, Albrecht Strasse, Berlin.
Another for Rudi, while he protested indignantly. An RAF sergeant came up with two lifejackets.

Rudi clung to her as she kissed him but she knew he was more excited than sad. She wrapped his scarf more closely round his neck and smiled at him though she wanted to weep.

‘Write to me, as soon as you can. Tell me how you are.'

‘I'll come back soon, won't I?'

‘Of course. When the winter's over.'

Grandfather was plucking uncertainly at the label and at the lifejacket. ‘What is happening, Irma? Where are we going, Irma?' He was muddling her, as usual, with Grandmother. She took his hands in hers. ‘You're going on a holiday, Grandfather – just for a little while. These good people will look after you.'

She watched anxiously as he was led away by the sergeant and helped out onto the pontoon and into a barge. Rudi, at least, understood but poor Grandfather was completely bewildered. As the barge travelled slowly out towards the flying boat Rudi stood up, waving to her. She waved back cheerily with her handkerchief. It had started to rain: a cold, misty drizzle drifting across the water. In the early dawn, sky, water, and the low hills that sheltered the lake were a uniform dull grey, the flying boat out at its mooring a ghostly white.

A crowd of spectators had assembled further along the bank – Berliners come to watch. As the barge drew alongside the flying boat, one of the crew appeared at an open door and began guiding the passengers on board, lifting up the smaller children in his arms. The pilot was leaning out of his cockpit window high above, watching. She could see his RAF cap and the fur collar of his leather jacket. They seem kind, she thought, relieved. They are taking great care.

Grandfather was being helped through the entrance and Rudi turned round to give one last, excited wave. The door was closed and the four engines started up. The Sunderland surged forward with a roar, sending up a huge bow wave. It gathered speed, racing away across the lake until its nose lifted slowly from the water and rose, dripping, into the air. A mighty cheer broke out from the crowd along the bank, echoing round the hills. She stood, watching the flying boat steadily gaining height until it disappeared into the clouds.

The corporal said at her shoulder, ‘They'll be all right, sweetheart. Don't you worry, they'll look after 'em.'

She wiped her cheeks. ‘Yes. I know that they will.' With an effort she smiled at him. ‘Goodbye and thank you for everything.'

A road led back through the forest, curving to follow a fence round the edge of the airfield. She could hear the constant noise of the planes and presently she was able to see one of them descending in the sky ahead. A Dakota exactly like Rudi's model. Behind it, higher in the sky, there was another, and behind that one, higher still, yet another. Further on, she came to a gateway onto the airfield, guarded by a Royal Air Force sentry. He stepped forward. ‘Can I help you, miss?' She shook her head and walked on.

By then it was raining hard. After several miles the driver of a British army lorry stopped to give her a lift. She sat up in the front cab beside him, dripping wet and shivering, with her wood-soled shoes in a puddle of water. The driver kept looking at her, clicking his tongue. ‘Catch your death, miss. You want to get back home fast as you can.' He spoke as though there was a warm, comfortable place waiting for her, perhaps with a nice hot bath and a cosy fire.

He dropped her at an S-Bahn station where she waited for more than two hours before a train came, packed tightly with workers. At Friedrich Strasse bahnhof where they had crossed into the Soviet sector, Russian guards held up the train while they demanded to see identification papers and searched for black-market goods. She was ordered to open her handbag, its contents rummaged through. A young man was found to have pockets full of packets of American cigarettes and was dragged off, protesting in vain. That could have been Dirk, Lili thought, watching his white and terrified face and listening to his cries.