Gretchen said nothing.
He scratched his chin. “Does she have papers?”
“None that she can use.”
“I can arrange new papers for her. You’ll need to bring me what she has. Where is she now?”
“She’s safe for the moment. We would like to move her to Dresden. She has friends there.”
“We?”
“I meant Dora. Dora would like to move her to Dresden. As soon as possible.”
Hans gave a low whistle. “Dresden’s a long way. You do know the trains have stopped running?”
“Yes, I know it’s not going to be easy, but as I said, it’s urgent. I thought you might have some ideas.”
“Why Dresden? No city in Germany will be safe when the fighting stops.”
Gretchen cast her gaze through the paneless window. “I know.” She bit her lip. “But she is more afraid of the SS than the enemy.”
Hans nodded. “I know someone with a horse and dray. That’s the only form of transport that might work.” He scratched his chin some more. “I could speak with him. He’ll have to be paid, though.”
“That won’t be a problem,” said Gretchen, pulling a wad of Dora’s money from her purse.
In the afternoon, Gretchen took her scissors from her tin box. She tied a sheet around Oskar’s neck. He sat still while she trimmed the left side of his beard and shortened it, but when she moved to the right side, he pulled the sheet away and shouted at her.
“Leave me be.”
“Please sit still Oskar, while I finish trimming your beard,” she said.
He flailed about with his arms, a wild look in his eyes. “Leave me be, woman.”
She picked up the sheet and tied it around his neck again. “I’ve already done half the job,” she said, patiently. “I have to finish it.”
Again, he pulled the sheet away, baring his teeth and snarling at her like a wild animal.
She smiled at him. “We’ll feed the pigeon when I’m finished.” She replaced the sheet again. “Now please sit still. It won’t take long.”
He was quiet after that, and she finished the job. She trimmed his hair at the back as well before removing the sheet and cleaning up.
Later, when Oskar was asleep, she thought about his reaction. He was like a child in many ways, and yet there was a depth of venom there too. Her mind went back to the early years of their marriage. Life was hard for them, they had so little, and he could be short-tempered at times. But he’d have moved mountains for her then, too. Did he have any love left for her now, any affection at all, or was it all lost?
30
For three days, firestorms raged across the city, ravaging what was left of public services. The body-count mounted. Toxic gases from the firestorm had killed the occupants of several poorly ventilated shelters. The postwoman said the bombers had dropped incendiaries designed to start fires. It was like the firebombing of Hamburg all over again.
Frequent gas explosions forced the Gauleiter’s office to order the whole gas network to be switched off. Now the power station was partially destroyed the electricity supply was unreliable and the U-Bahn ceased running. The trams were nearly all gone. All the bakeries closed down; there was no more bread. A few of the main thoroughfares were still passable, but the fuel had run out, so any buses that hadn’t been burned out remained in their depots.
As soon as he thought it was safe to venture outside, Hans made his way to Pitt’s Coal Depot. Hans’s father had known Karl Pitt, the drayman. They worked together in the Siemens Company. After the financial crash of 1929, both men lost their jobs. Pitt set up a coal supply business; Hans’s father joined the Army. Swinging his leg, gritting his teeth against the pain, Hans started the 5-kilometer journey on foot, before catching a tram that emerged unexpectedly from a dust cloud and took him as far as Moabit. From there, it was only a kilometer to the coal depot on Siemensstrasse.
Two wooden doors led to a yard black with coal dust, where the smell of horse piss from the stable was almost enough to poleaxe a full-grown man.
“What can I do for you, my friend?” said Pitt.
Hans took a few moments to catch his breath before explaining that he needed use of the dray. “I have a couple of people who have to get out of Berlin. They plan to travel to Dresden.”
Pitt’s expression darkened instantly. “That’s a long way. I’m not certain my old horse will take you that far. How many people in the group?”
“Three, including you,” said Hans.
Pitt shook his head. “That’s too much weight.”
“One of them is a young slip of a girl.”
“Weighing how much?”
“Thirty kilograms, no more.” Hans was guessing.
“And the other one?”
Hans did a quick mental calculation of Dora’s weight. “She’s a small woman. Maybe fifty kilos.”
“I doubt that we’d make it all the way to Dresden, even if we can get through the guards at the perimeter.”
“We have to try,” said Hans. “I can pay whatever you want.”
Pitt hesitated. “It could take four days. My horse can’t walk very fast. You’ll have to pay for my time. Four days there and four days back.”
“I can pay,” said Hans. “How quickly can you do it?”
“I can’t do it until March at the earliest. I have deliveries to make for the Wehrmacht.”
They agreed on Sunday March 11.
Hans extended his hand and Pitt shook it.
Hans waited an age on Moabit before a tram came along that took him back as far as Westend. Crossing the golf course toward his allotment, a flash of color caught his eye. A man dressed in red pajamas was sitting in one of the sand traps.
Hans approached warily, thinking the man might be dead, but when he opened his eyes, Hans helped him to his feet.
“Where do you live?” said Hans.
He got no answer. The man looked confused, his eyes unfocused. Hans checked inside the back of his collar and
