Read Online The Undertaking by Audrey Magee - Free Book Online Page B

across the village, crashing into each other as they went, loudly hushing each other’s laughter. Weiss and Gunkel started to sing. Kraus told them to be quiet. They reached the barn and cocked their guns.
    ‘All right, boys,’ said Weiss. ‘Who’s first this time?’
    ‘It must be you, Faber,’ said Kraus. ‘Your wedding present from us.’
    They pushed open the door and swung torch beams until they located the huddle of staring eyes. Faber saw her, her headscarf still on. He walked towards her, but then he turned away and went back into the snow. He returned to the house to sleep between Kraft and Faustmann, his wife’s hair and photograph pressed into his cheek.

 
     
     
    12
    Katharina leaned back into the soft black leather chair, took a magazine from the walnut coffee table and angled her legs to the left, her feet crossed at the ankles like those of the other women in the room, although their fur coats closed neatly across their chests. She flicked through the pages, scanning pictures of ball gowns, gas cookers and tips for the perfect family Christmas, listening to the near silence of the other women, the polite coughs, the low whispers to already quiet children.
    The nurse opened the door across thick cream carpet.
    ‘Mrs Faber.’
    Katharina did not lift her head. It was rude to stare. She turned onto a new page.
    ‘Mrs Faber, please.’
    The other women’s coats had obviously been bought for them. She could tell. No straining at the buttons. She felt herself in shadow. It was the nurse. Standing over her.
    ‘Mrs Faber. Please. Dr Weinart is waiting for you.’
    ‘Oh. That’s me.’
    ‘I know it’s you.’
    Katharina stood up, fumbling with her bag, coat and magazine, her face flushed. The women were staring at her. She hurried after the nurse, across a hall and into a room overlooking the city.
    Dr Weinart rose as she entered.
    ‘Ah, Mrs Faber. The daughter of Mr Spinell and wife of Peter Faber.’
    ‘That is correct.’
    ‘Your father is a fine man. A very loyal supporter. I can assume the same of you?’
    ‘Of course, Doctor.’
    ‘Good. And your husband seems to be so, too. How is his campaign?’
    ‘I have not heard from him for several weeks, I’m afraid.’
    ‘He is a busy man, fighting for his country. It’s often hard to find time to write.’
    ‘That’s what my father tells me.’
    ‘Listen to your father.’
    ‘It is very kind of you to take me on, Dr Weinart.’
    ‘We can’t have our loyal supporters attending the son of a Jew.’
    ‘We didn’t know, Dr Weinart.’
    ‘He hid it well, Mrs Faber.’
    ‘Which of his parents was it?’
    ‘His mother. He fooled a lot of people, as they do. Now, how can I help you?’
    They sat down on leather chairs on either side of a large mahogany table.
    ‘I am pregnant. At least, I think I am.’
    ‘That is very fine news. But it will take a couple of days to find out for certain.’
    ‘I see.’
    ‘I need a sample of your urine.’
    ‘Yes, Doctor.’
    ‘You understand why?’
    ‘I have read about it in the newspaper. It sounds very interesting, although a little hard to understand, I must admit.’
    ‘Great German science, Mrs Faber, is never simple.’
    ‘Could you explain it to me?’
    ‘I will inject your urine into a rabbit’s ear and the reaction of its ovaries will tell me whether you are pregnant.’
    ‘I see.’
    ‘The response of a female African clawed toad is much faster, Mrs Faber, but they are hard to come by at the moment.’
    ‘I’m sure.’
    ‘Give the nurse your sample and come back to me on Friday. We will know the truth then.’
    ‘Yes, Doctor.’
    She handed in her sample, and went back downstairs, onto the street, where the wind cut at her chest. She would have to find a new coat. And a stole. Preferably matching. She turned right along theboulevard, glancing at coffee shops, looking for the one with the most customers and therefore the most supplies. She found one a couple of streets down from