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Authors: David Downing
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what's the news? Since they took our radios away we have no idea what's actually happening.'
Russell gave him the edited version, as seen from London and Washington - the Russian war in the balance, the looming breakdown in Japanese-American relations.
'Surely the Japanese won't attack America?' Martin mused. 'How could they hope to win such a war?'
'Most people think they'll attack the British and the Dutch, and hope that the Americans stay out,' Russell told him.
They went over the Japanese options until even Martin's curiosity was exhausted. 'Where's Ali?' Russell asked Leonore, seizing his chance. It was Ali who had introduced him to her parents, after Thomas had taken her on as a bookkeeper at his Treptow factory.
'At the cinema,' Leonore admitted.
'Without her star,' Martin added proudly.
'Without her star,' Leonore echoed. 'My Aunt Trudi was taken,' she went on. 'I think you met her once. She lived in Wedding on her own, insisted on it, and her health's been good for a woman over seventy. She got the notification last week, and she left the day before yesterday as far as we know. I wanted to see her off, but she refused; she said she didn't want a big fuss, but I think she was afraid they'd take me too.'
'A train did leave the night before last,' Russell said, but thought better of admitting that he'd watched it go.
'Then she's gone.'
'Many things are terrible,' Martin said, 'but not everything. Frau Thadden, the woman upstairs, is a real friend to us - she doesn't think any less of us because we are Jews. And a few nights ago a policeman banged on our door. We feared the worst, but he wanted to tell us to pull our blackout curtain tighter - some light was showing. If some of his colleagues saw it, he said, then we'd be in trouble, and he didn't want that. You see,' he said, turning to his wife, 'there are many good Germans.'
'I know there are,' she said. 'But Aunt Trudi is still gone.'
Seeing his stricken expression, she relented, and gave him a wonderful smile. After all, Russell realised, the heart that clutched at straws was the heart she'd fallen in love with.
'Have any of your friends heard any more from those who've been sent East?' he asked.
'Yes,' Leonore said. 'Two of them. I wrote it down as you asked,' she added, taking down a recipe book. 'It seemed a good hiding place,' she explained, leafing through the pages. 'Here we are. Two letters from Lodz. One from someone's uncle who left on October 17th, the other from an old friend who left on the 25th. Both said they were fine, and not to worry about them.'
'And they were in the right handwriting?'
'Yes, I asked.'
'Well, that's good news,' Russell thought aloud.
'Better than it might be,' Leonore agreed absent-mindedly. 'This sounds like Ali,' she said, relief in her voice, and a few seconds later the seventeen year-old let herself into the flat. She was pleased to see Russell, but clearly disappointed that he hadn't brought Effi. 'She's just finishing a film,' Russell started to say, only to be interrupted by the rising whine of the air raid sirens.
Martin looked at his watch. 'They're early tonight,' he complained. 'Let's ignore it for once,' he added, without conviction. Leonore was already reaching for her overcoat, and Ali was pulling her jacket with the star out of her bag. Martin picked up the suitcase that was already packed for such eventualities, and they all tramped down the stairs. Outside, a barely visible procession was heading down the street towards the shelter. Looking up at an impenetrable sky Russell reckoned the RAF needed better weather forecasters - the chances of hitting anything relevant on a night like this had to be zero.
The Jews had been allocated their own segregated area at one end of the basement shelter, about a sixth of the space for almost half of those present. Russell ignored the local block warden's direction and joined them, almost hoping for a row. The warden restricted himself to a nasty look, and went
Russell gave him the edited version, as seen from London and Washington - the Russian war in the balance, the looming breakdown in Japanese-American relations.
'Surely the Japanese won't attack America?' Martin mused. 'How could they hope to win such a war?'
'Most people think they'll attack the British and the Dutch, and hope that the Americans stay out,' Russell told him.
They went over the Japanese options until even Martin's curiosity was exhausted. 'Where's Ali?' Russell asked Leonore, seizing his chance. It was Ali who had introduced him to her parents, after Thomas had taken her on as a bookkeeper at his Treptow factory.
'At the cinema,' Leonore admitted.
'Without her star,' Martin added proudly.
'Without her star,' Leonore echoed. 'My Aunt Trudi was taken,' she went on. 'I think you met her once. She lived in Wedding on her own, insisted on it, and her health's been good for a woman over seventy. She got the notification last week, and she left the day before yesterday as far as we know. I wanted to see her off, but she refused; she said she didn't want a big fuss, but I think she was afraid they'd take me too.'
'A train did leave the night before last,' Russell said, but thought better of admitting that he'd watched it go.
'Then she's gone.'
'Many things are terrible,' Martin said, 'but not everything. Frau Thadden, the woman upstairs, is a real friend to us - she doesn't think any less of us because we are Jews. And a few nights ago a policeman banged on our door. We feared the worst, but he wanted to tell us to pull our blackout curtain tighter - some light was showing. If some of his colleagues saw it, he said, then we'd be in trouble, and he didn't want that. You see,' he said, turning to his wife, 'there are many good Germans.'
'I know there are,' she said. 'But Aunt Trudi is still gone.'
Seeing his stricken expression, she relented, and gave him a wonderful smile. After all, Russell realised, the heart that clutched at straws was the heart she'd fallen in love with.
'Have any of your friends heard any more from those who've been sent East?' he asked.
'Yes,' Leonore said. 'Two of them. I wrote it down as you asked,' she added, taking down a recipe book. 'It seemed a good hiding place,' she explained, leafing through the pages. 'Here we are. Two letters from Lodz. One from someone's uncle who left on October 17th, the other from an old friend who left on the 25th. Both said they were fine, and not to worry about them.'
'And they were in the right handwriting?'
'Yes, I asked.'
'Well, that's good news,' Russell thought aloud.
'Better than it might be,' Leonore agreed absent-mindedly. 'This sounds like Ali,' she said, relief in her voice, and a few seconds later the seventeen year-old let herself into the flat. She was pleased to see Russell, but clearly disappointed that he hadn't brought Effi. 'She's just finishing a film,' Russell started to say, only to be interrupted by the rising whine of the air raid sirens.
Martin looked at his watch. 'They're early tonight,' he complained. 'Let's ignore it for once,' he added, without conviction. Leonore was already reaching for her overcoat, and Ali was pulling her jacket with the star out of her bag. Martin picked up the suitcase that was already packed for such eventualities, and they all tramped down the stairs. Outside, a barely visible procession was heading down the street towards the shelter. Looking up at an impenetrable sky Russell reckoned the RAF needed better weather forecasters - the chances of hitting anything relevant on a night like this had to be zero.
The Jews had been allocated their own segregated area at one end of the basement shelter, about a sixth of the space for almost half of those present. Russell ignored the local block warden's direction and joined them, almost hoping for a row. The warden restricted himself to a nasty look, and went
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