The Extra (15 page)

Today Lilo and the other urchins were standing around in a small area near the village fountain. They were filming a market day scene, and an assistant to the assistant to the assistant director was marking the places where they were to stand. Franz was not in this scene at all, but nevertheless, he was hanging around near a vegetable cart that was being set up with onions and potatoes. Some potatoes spilled and rolled toward the urchin girls. Franz raced over to help the prop fellow collect them. As Franz was on his knees collecting the vegetables, he lingered by the hem of Unku’s skirt. Lilo watched as he gave the skirt a light tug. A radiance broke across Unku’s face, obliterating the grime.

Until that moment, Lilo had sometimes been tempted to believe that her suspicions were merely figments of her imagination. Perhaps it was wishful thinking. But now she knew they were not imaginary.
This is bad.
No, worse than bad — dangerous.
She suddenly recalled what she had long repressed — the dozens of other instances when Unku and Franz had somehow managed to be within yards, if not feet, of each other. For the rest of the day, a debate raged within Lilo as to whether or not she should say something to Unku.

“W
hat is she doing?” Lilo whispered to Rosa and Django while they were standing at the edge of the set. Fifty feet from them, Leni was huddled with Franz. She had snaked her arm around his waist in a very intimate way. She was giggling and pressing her cheek to his shoulder.

“Flirting,” Rosa said. “What else would you call that?”

“Tante Leni,” Django sighed. It was the sigh of an old man. “This is not simple flirting.”

“What else is it?” Lilo asked.

“I have it on good authority that Fräulein Riefenstahl had a huge fight with Herr Jacob over his philandering. She wants to make him jealous.” Lilo tried to look discreetly at Django. Could he possibly know what she knew about Unku and Franz? If he did, he would have said something. Django, the ultimate insider, loved his “intelligence.” It would be a blow to him that Lilo knew something he didn’t, but she was fairly sure that his “good authority” had not informed him of this twist in the romantic entanglements of Fräulein Riefenstahl.

Her dread started to build. She felt that she must tell Unku that she knew what was going on between her and Franz. She turned to find her and saw that she was not five feet away. Bluma and Blanca were talking to her, but Unku’s eyes were locked on Franz and Leni, huddled at the edge of the set. Her face had been transformed into a mask of disbelief and beneath it hatred. Raw hatred.
Don’t be stupid,
Lilo wanted to say.
You are not the one who is supposed to be jealous. Peter Jacob is. Not you!

Five minutes later, Lilo witnessed another accidental brushing up between Unku and Franz. A word was exchanged.
Don’t touch her,
Lilo prayed.
For God’s sake, don’t touch her.
He walked about ten paces away and then turned and looked back at her. The yearning in his eyes was so intense, Lilo felt as though she should look away. Was she the only one who could see this? No! Not the only one! Harald Reinl was staring at Unku. He saw it all.
He knows,
Lilo thought.
He knows!

She vowed to confront Unku that same day before the shooting finished. But when she did speak to her, she wanted to have all her “jewels in order,” as her father would say before beginning a watch repair. She suddenly felt crushed by the memory of her father bending over the watches with his tweezers, delicately inserting the tiny jewels between the rotating steel parts. The jewels, which were the bearings, had to be perfectly placed for the movements of the watch. There was an orderliness to the way her father worked.
Where is he now?
she wondered.
Is he alive or dead?
Had he been fed into the death machine?
Devoured?
She shut her eyes. Could Django find out anything? If he could slip a script into Arnold Fanck’s briefcase, could he make a connection with someone who might know something about her father? Her head ached. It was as if her brain were being crushed between the two movable jaws of a mammoth vise — her desperate longing for her father and this dangerous game that Unku, her dear friend, was playing. Could she even hope to get her jewels in order to find out about her father and help Unku? At the moment, it seemed more realistic to help Unku avert an impending disaster.

She decided to go to Django with both problems. When she found him, he was practicing the fingering of the next musical number with Henrik the guitarist.

“I have to talk to you now!”

“Now? Can’t you see I’m busy here with Henrik? Henrik is doing so well. He’s going to be able to play better than me soon.”

“Go on, Django.” Henrik laughed and gave him a pat. “Go talk to your pretty girlfriend.”

“I’m not his girlfriend,” she shot back. She immediately regretted it, for she caught just the shadow of a look she had never seen cross Django’s face. She was not sure what to call it — crestfallen? But the face had not fallen. It was rather like the moment just before a house of cards begins to slip. Did he think he was her boyfriend, or was he just her friend? Their friendship had been short but ran deep. What exactly was he? she wondered. She reached out and took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“All right,” he said quietly.

They walked off just a few feet. “Can Harald Reinl be trusted?”

He looked at Lilo with a touch of scorn. “No. Why?”

“I’ll tell you soon, but tell me why he can’t be trusted.”

“Because he is insecure.”

“Why is he insecure?”

“Because he’s not Arnold Fanck. Doesn’t have half the talent, not one-tenth.”

“And he wants Leni to like him?”

“Adore him, but not as a lover. He’s like everyone else around here. He wants to be a star — direct a film of his own — really his own. Leni is his ticket to fame. He’d do anything for her.”

“I was afraid so,” Lilo replied, and looked down at her bare feet. They were caked with fake mud.

“What is it, Lilo?” He reached out with his hand lightly and touched her elbow. “You can tell me.”

I owe this to him,
she thought. But
owe
was the wrong word. Django and she didn’t trade. They didn’t barter or bribe. She could not reduce this to anything so common.

“What is it, Lilo?” he repeated. “There’s something more troubling you.”

“There are two things, really.”

“All right, two things. What are they?”

“Look, Django, you have so many connections with the Marzahn prisoners. Is there any chance that any of them have connections with ones who were at Buchenwald, anyone at all who would know about my father?”

“That’s a hard one. I can try and check, but I doubt it. What is the second thing?”

“It’s Unku — her and Franz.”

“No!” It was more of an exhalation, a breath, than a word. If Lilo had thought this “intelligence” would be a bruise to his self-esteem, she was wrong.

“This is bad, Lilo. Really bad.”

“I know.”

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

Me?
she thought.
He’s asking me?
It was an odd reversal. She took a deep breath and began to speak.

“I’m going to find her right now and talk to her. Tell her I know. Tell her it has to stop.”

“You can’t tell her right now. There are too many people around. Look who’s coming over.”

It was Tante Leni.

“All right, my little urchins, gather round!” She waggled her fingers, summoning them toward her. “Now this is the market scene, where I shall come wandering through and you children must tag after me again like you did when we were in Krün and I first arrived in the village of Roccabruna in my caravan wagon.” She paused and looked about. “Why’s that one not coming, Harald?”

“Who, dear?”

“The urchin over there. Get her.”

It was Unku.
Good God!
Lilo thought.
This is already spinning out of control.
Why didn’t Unku come when they were summoned?

When she arrived, it got worse. Unku was no actress. A scowl was engraved on her face.
Stop it, stupid girl! Stop it!

“You always take your time like this, Miss? When I say ‘come,’ you come!” Leni snapped. One would think that Unku would look down contritely, sheepishly, but no. She looked straight into those beady eyes, her own amber eyes blazing like licks of fire. Observing this scene, one might have imagined that Leni Riefenstahl had met her match in this game, Lilo thought. But of course the dice were loaded.

“But I love him!” Unku whispered hoarsely hours later. Lilo stared at the two glistening tracks of tears that ran down Unku’s cheeks. She stared so hard, they seemed like twin rivers. She felt herself slipping into them, dissolving into the streams. She began to stammer.

“I — I — I know. I know. But it is dangerous.
She
is dangerous. She is very close to Hitler. To all the big Nazis.”

“What does Hitler care about some Roma girl’s love affair with an actor?”

Lilo struggled to find the words. “It’s not that. Hitler doesn’t care. But Leni gets what she wants. She went to great pains to make sure you looked as ugly as possible. She made the hairdresser chop off your hair. And she shaved that bald spot.”

Unku’s eyes twinkled. “Franz loves it. He kisses it.” She touched it with two fingers. She wrinkled her nose. “I hope she keeps shaving it!” Pure defiance! Lilo was getting nowhere. She knew it, so Lilo let her curiosity get the best of her. “So where, or when, does he get a chance to kiss it? Where do you go?” Unku tossed her head back and laughed even though the tears were still wet on her cheeks.

“Oh, Lilo, you can bribe anyone here.”

“You bribed a guard?”

“Not me. Franz.”

“But when? I always see you.”

“Do you stay awake all night?”

“No, but . . .”

“I get up around two or three in the morning. I go to the toilets.”

“You meet him in the toilets?”

“No! Don’t be ridiculous. At the end of the hall, where the toilets are, there is a door. It’s locked, but Franz arranges for the guard to unlock it at a certain time.”

“And then where do you go? I hope it’s more romantic than the toilets.”

“Not much.” She laughed. “We go to a service area. It’s an electrical room. Has a high-voltage sign on the door.”

“God, I hope you don’t get electrocuted.”

“No, don’t be silly. It’s the perfect place. There is the deep humming of all these machines that drive the power of the whole building. It’s perfect.”

“Perfect? Doesn’t sound very romantic to me.”

Unku’s shoulders slumped. “Lilo, have you never made love?” Lilo felt the blood rush to her face. “No, of course not. You’ve never had a boyfriend.” But Unku did not say this in a patronizing way. She patted Lilo’s hand gently. “You’ll see.”

An unsettling thought struck Lilo at that moment.
I could very easily die a virgin.
She immediately felt guilty even having such a thought, for on the scale of horrors she had seen in the past several months, beginning with her family’s arrest, then her mother’s sterilization, and finally the murder of Mina, she knew that dying a virgin was rather minor. But still she thought it wasn’t fair. She was suddenly furious. She knew that she was like a child crying out “No fair!” in a game. She might be forever childish. She might die before she even reached sixteen. She might die a child and a virgin.

Unku lowered her voice and continued. “When you make love, you sometimes make a little noise, and the thrum of the machinery —”

Now she was being patronizing, Lilo thought, and held up her hand. “Don’t! You don’t need to explain. I get the picture.” She took a deep breath. “Look, the point is that this is dangerous. You’re playing with fire, with this Franz.”

“Don’t call him ‘this Franz.’” Unku said this almost mournfully. Lilo instantly regretted her words. To call him “this Franz” was harsh. She knew it. For Unku, he was Franz Eichberger and not merely “this Franz.” She loved him. The sadness in Unku’s eyes was almost unbearable. What right did she have telling her not to do this? Unku was putting only herself in danger. Not Lilo. Not anyone else. And so if she was risking all for love in a world where hatred ruled, wasn’t this a good thing? A hopeful thing?