Nightmare in Berlin (14 page)

Everything lost — drained and spent — like the rest of us!
thought Doll bleakly, and went on patting her hands mechanically. But then he reflected that it was now up to him to do something; they couldn't just carry on sitting in the kitchen. A little while later, he took her downstairs again to the kindly caretaker's wife, and even if they were still sitting in the kitchen down here, at least this kitchen was warm. The last of the Dolls' coffee beans were roasted in a little skillet. Bread was sliced, and the remaining meat taken out of the tin and arranged neatly on a plate. With a spot of breakfast on the table, the future suddenly looked more hopeful.

But his young wife seemed not to share the feeling. She said that Doll should go now, right now, and seek out her friend Ben, the German who was half-English, and when Doll resisted, saying he would rather go after breakfast, she became very impatient: she knew for a fact that Ben was an early riser, and always left for work in good time. If he didn't go immediately he would miss Ben, and they wouldn't be able to reach him for the rest of the day — and she needed to speak to him
now
!

Doll could think of good reasons for refusing, but his young wife seemed so feverishly agitated and desperate, and he himself was so exhausted and keen to avoid an argument, that he did actually set out to find Ben's apartment. ‘I'll expect you back in under half an hour!' cried the young woman, now quite animated again, ‘and bring Ben with you. I'll have breakfast waiting for you!'

It was not possible to do the journey in under half an hour, because the trams that used to run there were not yet back in service. Doll had to walk the whole way — though ‘crawl' would be a better word.

The house he was looking for was still standing, at least, but there was no nameplate on the apartment door, and when he rang the bell, nobody came. He finally discovered from the porter that the gentleman had moved out, just a few days earlier. (
Somebody moved into our apartment a few days ago, and now Ben has moved out: a promising start to our time in Berlin, I must say!)
The porter claimed not to know Ben's new address.
I can't go back to Alma with this
, thought Doll, and with some effort he managed to find an elderly gentleman in the building who knew where Ben was now living, somewhere way out in the city's smart, new west end. It would take hours to get there, and he had no intention of going now. Back to Alma, then — and breakfast!

She really had waited breakfast for them, and had even managed to drum up a few cigarettes, albeit at a cost of five marks apiece, which Doll, who had previously been kept well supplied with tobacco by the Russians, found staggering. The news that Ben had moved was received by Alma with composure. ‘We'll go and see him after breakfast, even though it will be hard for me with my leg. Believe me, my instinct about this is right: Ben will help us in our hour of need, he'll never forget that business with the concentration camp! You'll see', his wife went on, growing steadily more animated, ‘he's done very well for himself. The fact that he's moved out to the expensive west end proves it. He'll have a villa there, for sure. And he'll be pleased that he's able to help us!'

And so, refreshed by the breakfast and a good wash, they took their leave of the friendly but ever-despondent caretaker's wife. ‘I'll be back again in the next few days', promised Mrs. Doll, ‘and I'll go down to the housing office and sort out this business with that cheeky cow upstairs. Doesn't even offer me a chair in my own home — she's out on her ear!'

And how are we going to compensate her for the ‘few thousand marks' she's spent on doing the place up?
thought Doll.
And anyway, they'll never grant us the right to the whole seven-room apartment, not even if we include Petta and grandmother.

But he didn't talk about any of this with his wife. Events would just have to take their course now. There was no point in getting worked up over anything, or making plans for the future. Things would turn out one way or the other — though hardly ever for the best.

The refreshing effects of the wash and the ground coffee had not lasted long, and his wife's leg must have been in a really bad way, because their progress was painfully slow. Time and time again, Doll resolved to hold back and walk with his sick wife, but before he knew it he was ten or twenty paces ahead of her. When he then turned round and went back to her, feeling guilty, she would give him a friendly smile. ‘You go on!' she said. ‘I'll whistle if I think I'm losing sight of you. It must be a pain to have to slow down for me — I'm like a snail today. You go on ahead!'

After the cold night, the sun shone warmly, with that pleasantly autumnal warmth that has nothing oppressive about it, but just feels good. Here in the streets lined with villas the trees had not yet lost their leaves. The foliage was paler and changing colour, but it was just good to see healthy trees again after all the ruins. Many of the villas here had also been destroyed, but nestling among shrubs and trees, and surrounded by green lawns and flowers, it didn't look so bad somehow.

Mrs. Doll said to her husband, who had just turned back again to rejoin his ‘snail': ‘Ben will have his own car by now, for certain, and I'm sure he'll take us out for a drive from time to time. Now we've got the whole of the lovely autumn ahead of us — let's just enjoy it for ourselves at last, without having to worry about anything. I expect Ben can arrange a truck for us, too, so we can pick up the furniture and your books from the sticks and set up house again properly. You wait and see what a wonderful home I'll make for you! We're sure to have lots of English visitors through Ben, and then you can invite your writer friends, too … I'll mix the most marvellous cocktails for you — I mix a mean cocktail, me! Ben will be able to supply the ingredients!'

Ben this, Ben that, Ben the other! What a child she was, the way she just pinned all the hopes of her innocent, child-like heart on a friend she hadn't thought about for weeks and months! A child in her faith and trust — so far, no disappointment had been able to eradicate this capacity for belief and hope from her heart.

Eventually, they really were sitting in the large drawing room of a huge villa, and from the windows they could see across the garden to the garage buildings, where a chauffeur was busy washing the car — Ben's car, and in that regard at least, Alma's expectations had been fulfilled. Her friend Ben had done surprisingly well for himself, and official plates on the garden gate indicated that Mr. Ben already held a senior position.

So far he had not yet appeared, having been detained for a few minutes by an important meeting on the ground floor. In the meantime, three interior decorators were busying themselves around the Dolls as they sat there amongst the antique furniture, looking lost in the magnificently appointed room; whispering among themselves, they were arranging diaphanous curtain fabrics in folds, climbing up and down ladders, and pulling on cords. And when Doll saw all this new splendour around him, such as he had not seen intact for months and years now, he felt his own down-at-heel appearance twice, ten times, as keenly. He looked from the snow-white tulle to the pale summer suit he was wearing, which showed dirty marks and streaks from the overnight train journey; and Alma's cheap little coat and torn stockings looked even worse against the rich brocade of the armchair in which she sat.

The truth was they had become beggars, and here in this house, which even in the best of times had been the villa of a
very
rich man, Doll felt this very acutely. It wasn't so long ago that he had thought of himself as a pretty prosperous man. But now he and his wife, as he suddenly saw very clearly, were no different from all those refugees whom he had only recently — when he was still mayor — had to direct through his little town in endless, wretched, starving columns. Now the Dolls, too, were down-and-out, with only a small suitcase to their name, homeless, dependent on the help of friends, strangers, maybe even public assistance. Mayor, property owner, an abundance of possessions, a bank account always in the black, decent food — and now suddenly nothing, zero, zilch!

Oh Lord!
thought Doll.
Don't let Alma say too much! Please God she doesn't ask these two women for anything — I couldn't bear it, we're not reduced to begging just yet!

The two women who had just entered the room were the wife of Alma's friend Ben and a woman friend of hers; they had eyed the two visitors with some surprise, but then Alma had started to explain …

There was no risk of her saying too much. She didn't get a chance for that. What happened next was something that Doll was to observe quite often over the coming weeks and months. Alma had barely got into her stride before the two women became very restless and fidgety, and the reason was obvious: they were dying to tell their own story!

As soon as Alma paused in her tale, the other two jumped in immediately. In a breathless gush of words, taking it in turns to speak, they now told the story of how badly they had suffered, how they had nearly starved, how they had lost so much … Sitting in this magnificent house, in an antique armchair covered in fine brocade, the Dolls learned what an awfully wretched time the owners had had of it, and indeed were still having.

Then the master of the house entered the room in a hurry; he could spare them just five minutes between two important meetings. He kissed Alma's hand, and said how sorry he was that life had become so very difficult. He could not even offer his guests a cigarette — that's how bad things were in his house! Mrs. Doll's leg really did look in a bad way; his guess was blood poisoning. He advised Doll to take her straight to a hospital.

A quarter of an hour later, they were both standing out on the street again, having got through the visit to Alma's truest and most grateful friend — thank God! The sun was still shining brightly and cheerily though the sparse foliage of the trees, the lawn in front of the villa was a deep green, and the Michaelmas daisies were in flower. Doll linked arms gently with his wife — she had such an alarmingly pale, ill-looking face — and said gaily: ‘And you know what we're going to do now, Alma? Now we are going to look after our nerves, we're going to live the good life — and your poor leg will get better in the meantime. So where are we going? Well, it occurred to me, when there was mention of a hospital just now, that only a quarter of an hour from here there's a sanatorium where I have stayed a couple of times for my nerves. They know me there, and they'll admit us for certain.'

‘Do what you want with me', answered Mrs. Doll. ‘Just as long as I get to lie down soon!'

And so they set out for the sanatorium, but instead of a quarter of an hour it took them nearly an hour, because the woman found it such a struggle to walk. There was no more talk of best friend Ben during this veritable
via dolorosa
; deep in thought, Mrs. Doll merely observed once in passing: ‘I'm never going to be decent and generous to people like I was before! Never again!'

‘Thank God', he said, and gave her a tender look. ‘Thank God, Alma, that's not something that depends solely on you. You'll always be a decent person, no matter how badly you've been let down!'

The sanatorium, a large, ugly building of red brick and cement, was still standing — it would have been almost unbearable if this had turned out to be another disappointment. They sat in the consulting room. ‘Turn on all your charm, Alma', whispered Doll. ‘They've got to take us in here. Where else are we going to go?'

Mrs. Doll quickly applied powder, rouge, and lipstick, intent on making the most of her charm. ‘Of course we'll admit you, my dear!' said the white-haired lady doctor, and stroked Alma's hair. ‘As far as your husband is concerned, we'll have to consult the privy councillor. But I've certainly got a bed free for you in my section.'

The privy councillor appeared. He looked a lot more jaundiced, wrinkled, and careworn, and a lot more intelligent, too, than before — or so it seemed to Doll. ‘I've got a room free for Mr. Doll', he announced after brief reflection. ‘But unfortunately not for the young lady at present — perhaps we'll be able to do something in three or four weeks.'

Having only just been relieved of their worst cares, the Dolls looked at each other in disbelief, then at the white-haired lady doctor, who now looked at her boss with a tight-lipped and submissive expression. Pointing out that she had just said something different was clearly a waste of time: fate was against the Dolls — end of story. Protest was futile. One disaster after another — they were headed for the streets …

‘I'm not leaving my wife now', said Doll after a protracted silence. ‘Come on, Alma. Goodbye, Councillor. Goodbye, Doctor!'

This time, out on the street, they didn't notice that the sun was shining, that the trees still had their leaves. The pressing question ‘What now?' overshadowed everything else. They had other friends, of course, and they still had relatives living in the city, too, but with the young wife in her present condition, how could they think of walking halfway across Berlin only to find a bombed-out shell instead of a house?

‘What now? What now?' And turning suddenly to look back at the sanatorium: ‘How I hate that man with his polite weasel face! Of course they had spare beds — beds for both of us. But he knew your first wife — I could tell straightaway that he was comparing me to her, and took against me. But where are we going to go now? Dear God, I've got to lie down somewhere, just a couple of hours, and then I'll be all right again.'