‘Your government won’t be too pleased at your dallying with the enemy,’ Slaney observed.
‘The British Government? No, I don’t suppose it will.’ This should have occurred to him, with half his family living in London at His Majesty’s discretion.
‘I can see their point of view,’ Slaney went on. ‘About the Jews and Palestine, I mean. It was bad enough before the war, when the Jews were a small minority. If they let in every Jew that wants to go they’ll have all the Arabs gunning for them.’
‘I can’t see that worrying anyone else.’
‘No, it won’t — the Jews will win the propaganda war. They have the two things that matter — lots of money and the biggest sob story in history. They’ll get their homeland all right. Though I doubt it’ll be the paradise they’re hoping for.’
‘After the last few years I expect they’ll settle for somewhere safe.’
Slaney snorted his disbelief. ‘In the middle of an Arab sea?’
Russell sighed. ‘Point taken.’
‘They’ve been giving out chunks of Germany to all and sundry — why not give the Jews a piece, make the criminal pay for the crime?’
‘Because “Next year in Dusseldorf ” doesn’t have the same ring to it?’
It was Slaney’s turn to sigh. ‘I guess.’
‘So, “now that they’re gone, was it all worth it?” Was it?’
Slaney took a first sip from the new stein and wiped his lips on the back of his hand. ‘I really don’t know. A year ago I had no doubts. And sometimes I still get that feeling — like the other day, when I was reading that testimony from Nuremberg about camp commandants using Jewish heads as paperweights. You think to yourself, we just had to get rid of those bastards, whatever it took.’
‘And yet,’ Russell prompted.
‘Yeah. And yet. What we did to Hiroshima and Nagasaki, what you limeys did to Dresden. And God only knows what good old Uncle Joe has been getting up to — the Poles are already accusing him of wiping out their entire officer corps.’
‘The same Poles who are now persecuting their returning Jews.’
‘Exactly. You end up asking yourself — how much better off are we? Enough to justify fifty million dead?’
Russell grunted his agreement. ‘And you missed out the French,’ he added. ‘Last week one of their journalists told me that they murdered around ten thousand Arabs in Algeria. Last spring, a little place called Setif.’
‘Never heard of it.’
‘You wouldn’t have — nothing appeared in the French papers. You know, there’s one thing that really upsets me. Every last idiot in thrall to violence, every last government hoping for some glory that rubs off — they’ll be trotting out the Nazi precedent for another hundred years. And even if the war against the bastards actually was worth fighting, I can’t help thinking they were the exception that proved the rule.’
‘The rule being?’
‘That wars sow only death and grief. I thought we’d learned that in 1918, but apparently not.’
Slaney grimaced. ‘You know, until I ran into you, I didn’t think I could feel any more depressed.’
Having arranged to meet Annaliese for some sort of supper on Tuesday evening, Effi asked the Russian bus driver to drop her off at the Dahlem-Dorf U-Bahn station. The train that arrived reeked to high heaven, but was mercifully almost empty. Exhausted, she sat with her eyes closed, drifting in and out of sleep, and almost missed her change at Wittenbergplatz.
It was dark when she finally emerged, and some desultory flakes of snow were visible in the dim glow of the few working streetlights. When she reached the Elisabeth there were twenty minutes remaining of Annaliese’s shift, so she took the opportunity to look in on the Rosenfelds. Esther had reported an improvement in her husband’s condition since the latest news of Miriam and the baby, and Effi was delighted to find him sitting up in bed. He still looked dreadfully weak, but his breathing seemed more regular and the flatness had gone from his eyes. He even looked interested when she told him the story behind Russell’s trip to Vienna.
Annaliese looked even tireder than Effi felt, but still insisted on their going out to eat. A new place had opened on nearby Lutzowstrasse, and several of the nurses had been astonished by the variety of food on offer.
Word had spread, and they had to queue for a table, but the aromas wafting past them seemed well worth the wait. ‘Chicken!’ Annaliese almost cried out when they finally got to see the menu. ‘Fish!’ Effi replied in equal amazement. ‘My treat,’ she added, pulling out her leading-actor-grade ration coupons. Looking around, she became suddenly aware of the clash between decor and clientele — a cafe used to serving workers was playing host to Berlin’s new rich. ‘Someone’s making a lot of money,’ she noted.
‘Grosschieber bastards,’ Annaliese observed almost cheerfully.
The meal cost the best part of a week’s coupons, but was worth it. There was even wine — nothing wonderful of course, but better than either of them expected. As they sat there nursing the last few drops, Annaliese leaned forward in her chair. ‘I’ve got something to ask you,’ she said softly. ‘I feel guilty about asking, so please, please, don’t feel guilty about saying no.’
‘All right,’ Effi agreed, wondering what was coming. ‘I learned to say no in the war,’ she added, then laughed. ‘That doesn’t sound right, does it?’
‘No. But here it is. The works committee that runs the hospital has negotiated a deal with a certain supplier for a bulk load of medicines. But the doctor who arranged it has come down with pneumonia, and now he needs the drugs as much as the patients do. No one was willing to take his place — they’re all too spooked by what happened to his friend, the one who went looking for insulin.’ Annaliese sighed. ‘So, like an idiot, I volunteered.’
‘Aren’t you spooked?’
‘Well, yes and no. I mean I know these are not nice people, but the deal has been agreed. The other time was different — that doctor was trying to find a legal source of insulin.’
‘Threatening their business.’
‘Exactly. This deal is their business. Anyway, I was wondering if you’d come along for the ride. Like old times.’
Effi smiled. The memory of their night drive across Berlin the previous April was one of her fondest. Not least because it had ended with her finding Russell half-asleep in her armchair — the first time they’d seen each other for more than three years. ‘Where would we be going?’ she asked. ‘And when?’
‘Tomorrow evening. The meeting’s scheduled for nine o’clock, out in Teltow. We bring the money, they bring the medicines. Will you come?’
‘How could I resist?’ She wouldn’t get much sleep that night, but her character was supposed to look wasted — she would save the make-up people some work. And, if she was being honest with herself, the prospect excited her. Her work in the war had occasionally been terrifying, but it had thrilled her in ways that acting never could. She had assumed that life was over, but maybe it wasn’t. She dreaded to think what John would say, but there it was. As long as she remembered to think before she leapt.
One thought occurred straight away. ‘How will we get there?’
‘A jeep. The British gave four to the hospital.’
Effi grimaced — after Russell’s experience in a jeep she would have preferred something a little more bullet- proof. Then again, they would be doing all their driving in the American sector, and would happily stop if so requested. ‘What if they try and rob us?’ she asked Annaliese.
‘Why should they? The Grosschieber want regular customers, and the men we meet won’t dare cross their bosses.’
That sounded like sense. ‘Where does the money come from?’ she asked out of curiosity.
Annaliese shrugged. ‘The committee gets money from the Occupation authorities and our local administration, and quite a few of us have dipped into our own pockets — doctors, nurses, families of patients who need the medicines.’
‘Do the Allies know what their money’s being spent on?’
‘Of course. They pretend not to, but that’s just a joke. They could bring us supplies from the outside, destroy the black market in medicines overnight if they really wanted to.’
‘Why don’t they?’
