The Runaway Family (16 page)

Another office building, another wait in another draughty corridor, but eventually Ruth was sent into a small office where an elderly man with grey hair and steel-rimmed glasses sat behind a desk. He wore civilian clothes, though there was a silver swastika pinned to his lapel, but he had the upright bearing of a military man.

“What can I do for you, Gnädige Frau?” he asked with a smile.

Ruth was so surprised at the politeness of his tone that she didn’t reply at once. The man waved her to a chair in front of his desk.

“Please sit down.”

Still more astonished, Ruth sat. At all the interviews so far she had been left standing while the official remained seated.

“I need…” she began and then hesitated.

“Yes?” The man was encouraging.

“I need to have my sons’ names added to my passport,” she said, the words all coming out in a rush. “We are hoping to visit my sister in Vienna and…”

“You have the passport there?”

Ruth opened the deed box, and withdrawing her passport put it into the man’s outstretched hand. He opened it, glancing at the photograph, and then looked across at her. “I’m sure I can arrange this for you, Frau Friedman,” he said smoothly, “for a consideration.”

“A consideration?” Ruth was uncertain. Was he asking for money? Presumably he was, but how much? Had she got enough? The questions flew through her mind before he replied, “These things normally take a great deal of time.” He looked at her slyly and added, “And I don’t think you have much of that particular commodity… do you?” His smile, which had appeared friendly at the outset, now took on a sinister quality, and Ruth dropped her eyes. “No,” he went on, “I don’t think so. But I can speed the process up… if we can come to some agreement.”

“What sort of agreement?” whispered Ruth. “How much do you want?”

“How much have you got?” The eyes glittered behind the glasses.

“Not much,” Ruth said. “Almost nothing.”

“What else is hidden in that deed box, I wonder?” He raised an interrogatory eyebrow. “What other treasures do you have tucked away in there?” He placed the passport on the desk and held out his hand.

Ruth’s grip tightened on the precious box. “Our birth and marriage certificates,” she said.

His hand was still extended. “And?”

“Some earrings my mother-in-law gave me as a wedding present.”

“I’d like to see those,” he remarked conversationally, as if she had wanted to show her present off.

Ruth opened the deed box, and taking the earrings out reached over and dropped them into his hand.

The man looked at them consideringly, holding them up to the light to view them better.

“Pretty baubles,” he said, “but not worth much. What else?”

“Just a brooch of my mother’s.” Ruth knew that there would be nothing she could do if this man, at first more sympathetic than any she had seen, and now so greedy, decided to take any of her jewellery. Again he held out his hand, and she passed the brooch over. He looked at it for a moment and then turned his attention back to Ruth.

“This is like drawing teeth,” he said. “I think the best thing you can do is to hand the box over to me and I’ll have a look myself.” He got to his feet, and walking round the desk towered over her. Without another word he simply reached down, and scooping the box from her hands tipped its contents out onto the desk.

“This looks more like it,” he said, and picked up the title deed to the Friedmans’ shop. “I think this would work.” He studied the document for several minutes before glancing back at Ruth, who sat white-faced on the chair.

“Now,” he said, “here’s the deal. I add your sons’ names to your passport. For that you pay me one pair of pearl earrings and one gold brooch. I also get you five exit permits, which allow you and your family to travel to Vienna. For that you pay me one set of title deeds.” He smiled broadly. “Sounds fair to me.”

It’s robbery! Ruth wanted to shriek. Bare-faced robbery! She bit the words back, almost gulping them down into her throat before she said, “The title deeds aren’t mine to give. They belong to my husband.”

“Indeed they do,” agreed the man affably. “But he’s not here, is he?
You
have the deeds, and it is you who are asking me for a favour.” His voice took on an edge of steel. “Don’t you think he would want you to use them to save your children? Or don’t dirty Jews feel the same way about their children as normal human beings do?”

Of course we do, Ruth wanted to scream at him, that’s why scum like you can use them as a lever to get what you want. It’s because we love our children so much that we do anything, anything we can to protect them from monsters like you.

But of course she said none of this. She just sat shaking on the chair in front of him.

“Well?” he snapped. “I’m losing patience with you, Gnädige Frau.” This time the salutation was imbued with vitriol. “You have this one chance.” He picked up the passport and the jewellery and slipped them into a drawer of his desk, then he folded the title deeds. “What is it to be?”

Ruth raised her head with as much dignity as she could muster and said, “It’s a deal.”

“Good.” The man tucked the folded deeds into an inside pocket and stood up. “Back here, eight o’clock tomorrow morning. Don’t be late.”

Ruth stood as well. “Will you give me the permits then, sir?”

The man beamed at her. “You’ll find out tomorrow at eight, won’t you?” He rang a bell on his desk and a young SS man came in.

“This woman is leaving, Schwarz,” he said. “Make sure she does.”

“Who do I ask for?” Ruth realised in panic that she had never learned the man’s name. “In the morning? Who do I ask for?”

“Standartenführer Unger. Standartenführer Paul Unger of the SS.”

That night Ruth hid in a wooden shelter in a park. She had nowhere to go, and as she had been told to present herself at eight o’clock the next morning at the Gestapo headquarters, there was no way she could get back to Vohldorf for the night and be back in time. She knew that her mother would be worried sick when she did not come home, but there was nothing she could do about that. She found the shelter, little more than a summer arbour in a quiet part of a public garden and curled up in the corner trying to keep out of the wintry wind. As always there was a
No Jews
notice on the iron gates, but then she wasn’t allowed to be out on the streets either, and there was no question of finding a room, so she was at risk whatever she did.

She had hardly slept at all. Standartenführer Unger had taken everything of value that she had, and there was no guarantee that he would keep his side of the bargain. What a fool she’d been, to have left the deeds in the box when she had come into the city. She should have taken those out and left them safely with her mother. The fear that consumed her now made her feel physically sick. Tears of despair coursed down her face, streaking her cheeks with dark rivulets. He had taken everything and given her nothing. For all his smiles, he was more sinister than the men who had come and arrested Kurt. And what was Kurt going to say when he found out she’d given away the shop? Of course he would understand. Of course he wouldn’t mind if it saved his beloved family, but suppose she’d been tricked by this evil man? They would have lost everything and gained nothing. Oh God, she prayed, let the colonel keep his side of the bargain.

As dawn broke she slipped out of the park gates. She was stiff with cold, and exhausted, and she needed the lavatory. She had found a public convenience the night before, and she returned there now, hoping it would be open this early. She was in luck, the attendant was just unlocking the metal gates.

The woman eyed Ruth suspiciously, taking in her crumpled clothes and dishevelled hair. “You’re about early,” she said.

Ruth managed a smile and replied, “Yes, I have to get to the market.” Once locked into a cubicle she used the lavatory and dragged a comb through her hair. When she came out again, the attendant was nowhere to be seen, so Ruth hastily washed her hands and face and hurried out into the cold morning air. As she turned a corner in search of a café, she caught sight of the attendant returning to the lavatory block, followed by a man in uniform. Ruth didn’t wait to see which uniform it was, she fled down the street, turning into smaller side streets until she was lost, and, she hoped, they were too.

She emerged into a small square where she found a café serving breakfast to early risers. She needed food, she’d had nothing since the morning before, and she felt hollow inside and a little light-headed. She went into the café, and sitting at a small table at the back ordered herself a plate of bread and cheese and a cup of hot, black liquid which was advertised as coffee. The waitress brought her food, after which no one paid her any attention at all. The bread was fresh, and the cheese tasty. Ruth could have eaten several such plates, but had no money for such extravagance, and forced herself to eat slowly. She sipped the bitter coffee, grateful for its warmth if not for its flavour, and considered what to do.

She would go to the Jewish Affairs Office at eight o’clock, and ask to see Standartenführer Unger. Then she could only pray that he would indeed have the updated passport and the exit permits. If he didn’t… well, then she’d have to decide what she was going to do.

At exactly eight o’clock she presented herself at the desk in the reception area, and was told to wait. She waited for five hours. Officials walked past her as she stood in the passage. No one spoke to her, or even acknowledged her existence, and still she waited. The young officer, Schwartz, who had seen her off the premises, came by several times, and at last she plucked up courage to speak to him.

“Please, sir,” she said. “I was here at eight o’clock as the Herr Standartenführer told me to be. Is he here?”

“He’s busy,” snapped Schwartz. “You’ll have to wait.”

Ruth continued to wait, but was becoming increasingly aware that she needed the lavatory again. She tried not to think about it, but as time passed she knew that unless she was to disgrace herself here in the corridor she had to find a toilet. She returned to the front desk and asked. The woman seated at the desk looked outraged.

“You certainly can’t use one in this building,” she said. “The lavatories here are not for Jews. You’ll have to go and find one somewhere else.” She returned to her typewriter and Ruth knew there was no point in asking again. She hurried out into the street, and within three or four hundred metres found a public lavatory.

Ten minutes later she was back at the front desk of the Jewish Affairs Office. The woman at the desk looked up as she came back in.

“You Friedman?” she asked.

“Yes,” replied Ruth, “Yes, I’m Ruth Friedman.”

“The Herr Standartenführer sent for you, but I told him you’d left.”

Ruth stared at her in absolute horror. “You told him what?” she whispered.

“I told him you were here, but you’d left.”

“Did you tell him why I left?” demanded Ruth angrily. “Did you explain why?”

The woman sniffed. “As if the Herr Standartenführer would be interested in your incontinence!”

It took all Ruth’s self-control not to reach over the desk and shake the smug young woman until her teeth rattled. Hardly incontinence, she wanted to shout. I’ve been here more than five hours, in which time you’ve been to the ladies’ room twice. She bit back the words, knowing they would only make matters worse.

“Please,” she forced herself to speak politely, “please would you be so good as to tell the Herr Standartenführer that I am back now.”

“Oh, he’s gone now,” said the girl airily. “He said that if you did bother to show up again that you should come back again tomorrow at the same time.”

Ruth left the building, her emotions running the gamut from rage through humiliation to despair. There was nothing she could do except turn up again the next morning and hope that he would see her and give her the precious passes he had promised. She spent another very cold and uncomfortable night in the open, in a different park this time, trying to get some sort of rest. She thought of her mother and the children. They must be going out of their minds with worry now that she’d spent two nights away. Her mother would think she’d been arrested, and the children would be terrified that she had suddenly disappeared like their father.

Next morning she drank no coffee and having spruced herself up at the public conveniences that she’d found near the Jewish Affairs Office she presented herself once more at exactly eight o’clock. This time the wait was nearly six hours, standing in the same draughty corridor, ignored by all that used it as they went about their duties. This time she spoke to no one and at last she was summoned to Standartenführer Unger’s office.

“I hear you left the building yesterday,” he said by way of opening. “That was extremely foolish of you.”

“I’m sorry, I needed the lavatory and…”

“I imagine you’d have thought of that before you came.” Standartenführer Unger raised a supercilious eyebrow.

“Yes, sir,” murmured Ruth “I’m very sorry.”

“So you should be. It inconvenienced me greatly. Now—” he reached down and slid open the drawer of his desk “—here are your passports and the permits to travel to Vienna. They are valid for one week. Make sure you use them by then… and make sure you don’t come back.” He pushed the passport and the permits across the table and Ruth, unable to believe that they were actually there, snatched them up and stuffed them into the basket. “It’s feckless families like yours that bring our great country down,” he went on. “Now get out.”

Ruth muttered, “Thank you, Herr Standartenführer,” and left the room, before he could change his mind. Once safely outside the fearsome building, Ruth found a quiet street and looked at the papers she had been given, terrified that even now he had tricked her and that they were worthless. She held them up in the fading light and saw that they were made out in the right names and were dated and stamped with an SS stamp.

This time she had no problems with the bus driver, and seated quietly at the back of the bus drew no attention to herself. The other passengers ignored her, and she was able to stay on the bus until it dropped her in the Vohldorf market square. Keeping her head down and clutching her basket, she hurried along the narrow alley to Kreuzstrasse.