A Quiet Genocide Page 7

  * * *

  Dear Janus,

  * * *

  Forgive me. Please meet me for a drink on Thursday evening, 8pm, at Rudolf’s on Cathedral Street. Catharina Diederich

  * * *

  She tried to be as brief as possible. She wanted to fold what she had written into a tiny parcel that could easily be passed to Janus when she paid her bill. She had considered writing ‘Janus, I think I am falling in love with you’ but thought this message might intrigue him more. Catharina carefully put down her pen and faintly fragranced the paper with perfume. This was not a time to hold back. She would deliver it tomorrow and then have until next Thursday to discover Janus’ true intentions. The excitement of a potential meeting would carry her through she was sure.

  She began folding the piece of paper, first in half and then into quarters and finally in half again. There. She glanced up at the mirror curving around the top of the bedroom cabinet and caught her own eyes, like she was trying to scare herself. She looked so serious. She immediately smiled self-deprecatingly. For once that night, she went to bed after her husband. Catharina had had to go downstairs and spotlessly tidy the kitchen before finally starting to come down emotionally. Gerhard knew it was unusual. He felt her frame shift beside him and stirred back to consciousness.

  ‘Everything okay, darling?’ he slurred.

  ‘Everything is fine. Go back to sleep, sweetheart,’ she said, kissing the back of his head.

  She felt proud of herself if the truth be told. She felt in charge of her life again. It was 1959 after all. Why couldn’t a woman ask a man out?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mathias’ father scurried through a claustrophobic corridor to answer the telephone. It was late. He sensed with some portent who it could be. Michael. He picked up the red telephone thick with dust and diligently began wiping it down as he brought it up to his ear. Mathias’ father was a career citizen. He had blown with the storm which had raged across mainland Europe throughout the 1930s and 1940s – unpredictable and frightening. You never quite knew if the gale was set in for the night or whether it was about to suddenly blow itself out.

  Mathias’ father had been a rare ally in the Catholic Church for the Nazis during their twelve years in power. He had been jealous of the Jews and their success and had been perfectly happy for his young family to join the far right.

  ‘Guten Abend,’ he said into the now clean red telephone.

  ‘Heinrich, it’s Michael.’

  ‘Hello Michael,’ said Mathias’ father brightly despite the late hour and deep fatigue flagging his mood. ‘How are you this evening?’

  ‘I’m fine. I’m going to have to lean on you some more, old friend. You do understand?’

  ‘Of course, of course,’ repeated Mathias’ father.

  ‘I need Mathias to take a closer interest in Jozef at university. Certain forces would like to know more about his time away from home, you understand.’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course, Michael.’

  He put the telephone down and immediately rang his son. Mathias was not happy to be hauled out of bed by the doorman at this hour.

  * * *

  The following morning, Jozef had a lecture in the main theatre. The sky was grey and ominous, but, because of its blanket, the bite had been softened in the January air. Jozef was walking down the hill into the heart of the campus with a large flock of undergraduates busy jostling and jockeying for position. The effort of crawling out of bed early, for them at least, would have been wasted if they arrived late. Some had slices of toast in hungry mouths. Others clasped large volumes and files close to their chest. Jozef carried a cheap, brown briefcase. It was hardly dashing but it served its purpose and Jozef was growing to rather like it. He felt almost statesmanlike. Suddenly, a strong arm reached around his shoulder.

  ‘Guten Morgen, old friend,’ said Mathias popping up sharply on Jozef’s flank.

  ‘Guten Morgen, Mathias,’ Jozef said, struggling to free himself of his unwanted friend’s grip.

  ‘I didn’t think you had anything first thing?’

  ‘I don’t,’ said Mathias. ‘I’m coming with you to history. You don’t mind, old man?’ It was like they were long lost pals.

  ‘No,’ lied Jozef, who certainly did. Jozef felt lonely on Friday nights when he didn’t have anyone to share a beer with but not on Monday mornings when he had lectures. Then he treasured the solitude. Jozef had quietly determined to never become one of those undergraduates who required a crop of friends permanently surrounding them at class, smoking cigarettes in-between lectures and making university life look effortless. If Jozef, finally wriggling free of Mathias’ grip, made it look hard and lonely, he thought, it was because it was hard and lonely, at least for him.

  ‘Guten Morgen,’ announced a professor walking onto the stage and into the pulpit below.

  ‘Do you always sit this close in lectures?’ whispered Mathias.

  ‘Yes, I like to sit this close.’

  ‘Today we are going to talk about Adolf Hitler,’ began the professor. ‘And the rise in his popularity through the 1920s until he became chancellor in 1933. Intellectuals have assumed that Hitler was a hugely charismatic man, who seduced the German people and who was always bound to lead. The Nazis and the Second World War come 1939 were inevitable. There was nothing we, the people, could do against that great force. I would argue otherwise.’

  Jozef liked that the professor was not afraid to swim against the tide.

  ‘Jesus, Jozef, do you always make this many notes?’ complained Mathias, who Jozef had briefly but happily forgotten was there.

  ‘Yes, I always take this many notes,’ said Jozef pointedly.

  Mathias got the hint. ‘Okay, okay,’ he said and Jozef felt better for defending his stance for once.

  Mathias was beginning to regret coming and scanned the theatre for eligible young women. There were too many to count.

  Jozef then noticed the unfashionable girl from his halls sat on her own beneath him.

  ‘This is testimony from someone at the time. They said, “Hitler uttered what was in the consciousness of everyone present”. He uttered what was in the consciousness of everyone present,’ the professor repeated.

  ‘I would argue Hitler did not spellbind people before and after he became chancellor in 1933. He simply told them what they wanted to hear. Times were tough in Germany in the 1920s, but people were not ashamed or guilty like they feel now following a Second World War. People were angry after the Great War and needed someone to blame – Jews.’

  Jozef’s right wrist started to ache dully from writing so furiously. Today, whenever he came up for air in moments like this, he immediately recalled Mathias’ uncomfortable presence to his left.

  Mathias then broke wind suddenly. ‘Sorry,’ he said smiling.

  Jozef couldn’t help smirking also. It was the first time Mathias had amused him.

  ‘After Hitler’s call for a national revolution in Munich in 1923 he spent some time in prison where he wrote Mein Kampf,’ continued the professor, assuming a static position at the centre of the stage. ‘In it he wrote, “We have broken the laws of natural selection. We have supported unworthy life forms and we have allowed them to breed”.’

  * * *

  It was Friday night and Jozef was looking forward to a drink. He had grown used to not having company on Friday evenings and he had come to enjoy them more, despite the pangs of loneliness which pulled at the corners of his mood.

  A knock at the door. Mathias.

  ‘Hello,’ said Jozef, more comfortable around the undergraduate who lived opposite him now.

  ‘All dressed up I see, but where are you going?’ asked Mathias, mildly drunk.

  ‘Just out.’

  ‘Just out. You’re a mysterious one, aren’t you?’

  Mathias was backed by Martyn, the Danish undergraduate from next door, who smiled at Jozef, and also by Pierre, who was already too intoxicated to do anything but sway unsteadily on his
feet in time with his long hair. Pierre was from Elsaß-Lothringen, the west quarter of Germany which had briefly belonged to France in the 1920s and 1930s following Germany’s defeat in the Great War.

  ‘Would you like to come out with us?’ Martyn asked politely.

  Jozef felt a surge of excitement jolt through his veins. Week six and finally – finally – he was going out with people he had met at university. ‘One minute!’ he exclaimed.

  Mathias was satisfied. He knew his father would be pleased and he would now get to know the real Jozef Diederich, he thought. He would at the very least be able to report back with some authority.

  Martyn and Pierre too were pleased. They had become rather tired of Mathias dominating their trio on evenings out.

  Jozef’s mind was a happy whirlwind, chaotic but blissful. He slapped the outside of his left trouser pocket and felt a handkerchief and his room key, and in his right trouser pocket he felt Deutsche Marks. Everything he needed. He whirled back around to face Mathias, Martyn and Pierre, who was starting to come round a little.

  ‘Right, I’m ready.’

  ‘Let’s go then,’ answered Mathias with a smile.

  ‘Where are we going?’ asked Jozef as the four undergraduates strode out of their halls on a mission to drink and find fun.

  ‘We’re going over to the other side,’ said Mathias cryptically. ‘East Berlin.’

  ‘East Berlin!’ said Jozef startled. ‘We’re not really going there, are we?’

  ‘We’re really going there, old man,’ repeated Mathias, calmly lighting his first cigarette of the evening before handing one to Pierre, who would smoke like a chimney if only he could afford to. Instead, he cadged smokes whenever he could, Jozef noticed. Mathias smoked more for the look. Pierre hungrily inhaled big drags on his cigarettes, before grinding out the stubs on the concrete with the soul of his black boot, which fitted incongruously with his softer temper.

  ‘Relax,’ said Mathias. ‘We simply get the tube to the east. I’m fully aware it’s illegal but the police don’t care. Everyone does it. Thousands flock to the west through Berlin. It’s the last loophole between the sectors. My father says they’ll try and close the border here one day.’

  Jozef took his ally’s advice and tried to relax. He began talking to Martyn and happily soon realised that they shared a love for football and the cinema. They supported FC Bayern Munich and had both played football in their youth, although it seemed clear Jozef had been a much better player. Mathias, although you wouldn’t have guessed from his decadent habits and obsession with women, too was a huge football fan but liked less fashionable teams and lectured tiringly about the arrogance of the big, powerful clubs. Pierre could usually see both sides of an argument and smiled at Jozef. The pair of them had shared a connection since the look they had exchanged that first evening when Jozef, spinning with homesickness, had rejected their invitation to go drinking. Jozef finally felt vindicated in that decision and began to feel rather proud of himself that patience had brought its reward.

  They paused for a beer in one of the busiest pubs in Berlin before turning off the hectic strip and into the darker backstreets. The roars of the main public houses in town grew quieter as they walked down the hill to the subway to the east and the Soviet sector. The first glass of alcohol of the evening had gone straight to Jozef’s and Martyn’s heads. Neither of them were seasoned socialites like Mathias and Pierre.

  Jozef still felt uneasy about what he was about to do. What would his parents say? Munich and the safe life he had led for 18 years suddenly seemed a world away. Berlin was buzzing and the night beckoned intoxicatingly before them. Jozef was comforted by Martyn’s and Pierre’s presence. If they were going it must be okay, he thought. Mathias still irritated Jozef, but, it was true, the four of them formed a happy crowd. The chemistry was right. Nobody dominated. Everyone felt comfortable in the larger context.

  ‘What’s in the east?’ said Jozef to Martyn, who he was sticking to like glue.

  Mathias, five yards ahead with Pierre and his cigarettes for company, turned around. ‘Jazz, old boy. Bebop to be precise.’

  Jozef’s musical tastes were conservative at best. He had never heard of it. ‘Beeebop,’ he said slowly, trying to wrap his mind around it.

  The group reached the subway station and bought tickets for East Berlin. Jozef felt hugely conspicuous buying his and was the last of them to do so. His anxious face flushed hot despite the chill. All he could think about while the guard took his money was that he must know what he was up to. He must know.

  Of course the guard did. The four boys – because they were still just boys – stood out at this time on a Friday night smelling of liquor, but the guard didn’t care. He wasn’t paid enough to. He dismissively gave Jozef his ticket and looked immediately to his right.

  Jozef still dare not move, waiting to be dismissed almost like he was back at school.

  Mathias walked up to the shabby counter and put his arm around his companion. ‘Come on, Jozef,’ he said. ‘We can go now.’

  Jozef smiled back at Mathias. It was the first time the two of them had really shared a moment. It may have been partly fuelled by alcohol and illicit thrill, but it was true all the same.

  Jozef broke free from Mathias and ran forward to Martyn and embraced him excitedly. The four of them were on their way. Jozef’s first real adventure at university was finally beginning.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Catharina looked at herself in the mirror. It was a grey, anonymous morning, but that didn’t alter the fact that this was more than just another day. She was about to try to commit adultery. Even though she felt the moral high ground in her marriage was hers, a court of law, she was sure, would not quite view it that way. Gerhard would get everything and even, perhaps, Jozef. But Jozef was gone now. She wasn’t sure he was ever coming back.

  Rain started falling, tapping increasingly quickly on the window outside. She grimaced, annoyed. She would have to wear a headscarf. Catharina would have really rather not – her hair looked attractive today and for that she was thankful – but rain would transform her into a drowned cat. The lesser of two choices was always obvious to her. She shared that trait with Jozef, while Gerhard could never see the world so clearly. Choices seemed hard for him. Catharina tried to wonder what that must be like, to not know your own mind, but she couldn’t make the empathetic leap in her head.

  Catharina looked down at her hand and in its palm she cradled her letter, tightly swaddled like a baby. She had put so much heart into it. Despite last-minute nerves unsettling her motivation, she had to go through with her plan of action now. She closed the front door behind her and looked up at the sky overhead. The rain had sounded worse inside. It was only a heavy drizzle once out in it. Still, the headscarf, her favourite flowery one, had to stay on. She walked quickly down the short path leading to her front gate with her shopping bag tucked tightly under her arm. She was going to the butcher’s first, even though normally she would visit there last. She couldn’t function if she didn’t get this letter out of her possession. It was too explosive to sit there loaded for long.

  She approached the butcher’s and quickly tidied herself, running her hands down her skirt and loosening her headscarf. The sun was beginning to peak out. The shop was packed when she arrived. Catharina quickly spied Janus’ handsome face behind an army of wives all clamouring to be served the best meat in the store.

  Janus spotted Catharina in between serving and returned her look of comic distress at the chaos separating them. Janus rolled glinting eyes, which immediately returned her mood to last night’s thrilling heights.

  She was sure she was doing the right thing and that she was not misreading the signals they had been sending each other. Catharina steadied her emotions as best she could. She was so excited she did not mind waiting today. She was happy to bide her time and mentally prepare before handing over her note. She had deliberately worn thin layers because she knew she was liable to perspire und
er pressure. Her temperature began to rise the closer her moment to being served came.

  ‘Hello Frau Diederich. How are you today?’

  ‘Catharina, please,’ she said. ‘I think I should be asking how you are after dealing with all that.’

  ‘Ha!’ Janus exclaimed, laughing. ‘I am fine. I am used to them. They are no problem,’ he said in broken German.

  Catharina loved it when his Polish roots flavoured his accent. ‘Rather you than me,’ Catharina said, laughing nervously and suddenly hating herself for doing so.

  ‘The usual, Frau Diederich? Two smaller pieces of fillet steak?’

  ‘Janus,’ Catharina gently reprimanded.

  ‘The usual, Catharina?’ Janus tried again, soothing her nerves like the butterfly kisses she had dreamt him giving her.

  ‘The usual, Janus,’ she said.

  This was it. She peered down into her palm and carefully placed the tightly folded piece of paper behind her money and handed the precious pile to Janus. She was doing it, she exclaimed in her head, without quite believing it. It felt like an out of body experience.

  ‘Keep the change,’ she said quickly before grabbing the meat from Janus and racing out of the shop.

  ‘Frau Diederich!’ he called after her, reverting back to formality now the pair of them had broken the intimacy of eye contact.

  Catharina’s heart was thumping so heavily in her chest she might have missed an atomic bomb crushing central Munich.

  ‘You have given me too much,’ said Janus, his voice trailing off.

  He could see Catharina had been going somewhere in a hurry. Then he noticed she hadn’t made a mistake.