Read Online Potsdam Station by David Downing - Free Book Online

seemed stuck in what bomber pilots called a holding pattern; he couldn’t ‘land’ until he knew what had happened to Effi and Paul. One or both could be dead, which would change everything. But even if both were alive… Paul was eighteen now, and more than ready to strike out on his own. Effi might have fallen in love with someone else. Three years, as Kenyon had said, was an awfully long time.
    And if she still loved him, well, where would they live?
    In the ruins of Berlin? She might be longing to leave the city behind. She might feel more tied to the place than ever.
    He had no idea where he wanted to be. Living in hotel rooms and lodgings for three years had left him with an abiding sense of root-lessness. This war had set millions in motion, and some would have trouble stopping.
     
    ‘I can’t see what I’m doing,’ Effi said, putting the half-sewn dress to one side. Outside the light was fading, and there’d been no electricity since that morning’s bombing.
    ‘Have my seat,’ Ali suggested. ‘The light’s better.’
    ‘No, it’s all right. It’s not as if there’s any hurry. I don’t think the Skoumal sisters will be going out gallivanting any time soon.’ When Effi and Ali had set up the business in late 1942, Frau Skoumal had been one of their first clients, and fashioning dresses for her and her daughters had yielded them a steady supply of food and ration stamps. They had lived above the shop in Halensee in those days, because residents of commercial premises were not obliged to register with the local authorities.
    Effi stood up and stretched her arms above her head. ‘I can’t believe how…’
    She was interrupted by an urgent series of knocks on their front door. The two women looked at each other, and saw their fears mirrored.
    ‘Did you hear a car?’ Effi whispered, as she headed for the door.
    ‘No, but…’
    There were more knocks.
    ‘Who is it?’ Effi asked, remembering to put a few years on her voice.
    ‘It’s Erik,’ a voice almost hissed.
    She let him in, wondering what new disaster had occurred. It was only the second time he had been to the apartment, and he looked shabbier than usual – his coat was missing a button, his trousers badly frayed at the ankles. He was also unshaven, she realised – the first time she had seen him so.
    ‘I’m sorry for coming here,’ he said at once, ‘but there was no time to contact you in the usual way.’
    ‘Were those men caught?’ Effi asked.
    ‘No. At least, not as far as I know. We still haven’t heard from Lübeck, and no news is usually good news. But that’s not why I’m here.’
    ‘One of them knew me,’ Effi told him. ‘And he stayed here.’
    Aslund looked mortified. ‘Oh, that’s bad. I’m sorry. It’s just.. there’s no excuse, but the arrangements… there was no time. I am sorry,’ he repeated.
    ‘Have a seat,’ Effi offered. Her anger was already turning to guilt. Aslund had saved so many innocent lives.
    ‘No, I can’t stay. The reason I came – I have someone in need of a refuge.’
    ‘Of course,’ Effi said instinctively, and tried to ignore the sense of resentment that suddenly welled up inside her. They had not had a ‘guest’ for several months, and she had grown accustomed to living without that particular hostage to Gestapo fortune.
    ‘I know,’ Aslund said, as if he could feel her reluctance. ‘But…’
    ‘For how long?’ Effi asked.
    ‘Until it’s over,’ the Swede admitted. ‘This one’s different,’ he continued, seeing the look on Effi’s face. ‘She’s only eight years old. Her mother was killed by a bomb about a month ago, and the woman who’s looking after her – who sheltered them both for more than two years – she’s seriously ill. She can’t look after the girl anymore.’
    ‘She’s Jewish?’ Ali asked.
    ‘Yes. The name on her new papers is Rosa. Rosa Borinski. She’s a lovely little girl.’
    Effi hesitated. She wanted to say no, but she didn’t