For a time, Tadek stared at it – the ghost of the past – but then swung around and marched in the opposite direction along the hallway, away from temptation. He could have sat down and played regardless of Gerlinde Neumann’s desires but antagonizing the girl in such a thoughtless manner was counterproductive. After all, Morris had brought him here to get into the girl’s confidence, not to play the piano and pretend that the past hadn’t happened.
The further he went, the louder the rustling of the rain was getting. Tadek hastened his steps; someone must have forgotten to lock the window and who knew on which antique armchair the water was pouring now or which gold-embossed, leather-bound first editions it was soaking through. There were enough such luxuries here, lying about just like that, arrogant and taunting in their abundance.
It was not the window but the back door, in the frame of which one of the Americans was smoking. He greeted Tadek with a friendly nod and disappeared with the words, “watch her for a while, will you?” before Tadek even grasped what was needed from him. On the small back porch, shielded from the rain by the roof, Gerlinde was doing gymnastics with a hoop. She was dressed in a gray sport suit and running shoes; however, running, apparently, was out of the question for her for at least some time, due to the rain and the OSS-imposed rules. It didn’t seem to bother her. She stubbornly performed the routine, on the porch, as though to spite the agents by such defiance.
Tadek watched her silently for a while, even though he felt he had no right to even be there. She was tall and athletic; he could see it by the effortless way in which she moved, with the languid grace of a wild, deadly animal. He changed his opinion soon. It was a well-practiced routine, performed not out of spite to the Americans but for the sake of the exercise itself. Tadek realized that she must have been doing it daily.
She noticed him while performing one of her half-turns with the hoop but didn’t acknowledge him in any way until she finished her routine. Only when she dropped the hoop, to switch to a ball that lay nearby, did she bark out an unexpected, “Guten Morgen.”
Tadek mumbled back the needed reply and was forgotten once again as Gerlinde flipped her long braid back and resumed her exercise. In the past few days, he’d hardly had any interactions with Neumann’s daughter. Someone had said something to her, during the scheduled interrogation and she had announced a boycott to the occupying forces and all but locked herself in her room, only opening the door to allow Frau Hanke in with her food tray. Morris chewed someone out behind the half-closed door – we were just making progress but you had to go and ruin everything, numbskull! – and huffed and smoked more than usual, leaving Tadek feeling even more useless than ever.
“The sad part is, she’s not a stupid girl,” Morris mused out loud, twisting a cigarette between his fingers during one of their private conversations. “And, believe it or not, she’s not an inherently mean child either. She loathes most of my men because she senses it, that they can barely stand her too but with me, you see, she’s different. Yes, she snaps and acts out but what child doesn’t? I have a daughter of her age at home, so such outbursts are nothing new to me… What is important is that Gerlinde talks to me. Yes, she mostly resorts to taunts and half-jests but she does talk and that’s already something. If only I could get that nonsense out of her head… She’s only sixteen, Tadek. That Nazi garbage is all she knows. That’s all she heard growing up. That’s all she was surrounded with. If only there was a way to pull it out of her…”
Tadek smiled softly, almost pitying the man. “Is that why you brought me here? You thought we could have bonded due to our age, or something of that sort?”
Morris looked at him in surprise.
“No. Of course not. Bonded with her?” He chuckled mirthlessly. “No. I wanted you to become her confidante of sorts and so far, you’re moving in the right direction. The idea with the books was an excellent one. Keep gaining her trust. Pretend to open up to her first, so she can open up to you later. Tell her about your life in the camp. Perhaps, that shall make her see reason. You see, she sincerely believes that concentration camps were much like prisons, only with gardens, theaters, and sports clubs.”
Tadek’s eyebrows shot up in justified astonishment.
Morris snorted softly. “Yes, yes. Her daddy showed her photos of that model camp – what the hell was its name?”
“Theresienstadt?” Tadek supplied.
“That’s the one. Theresienstadt. How do you know about it?”
For a time, Tadek was silent. “We received a transport from there. A so-called Family Camp was established. Six months later, they were all gassed. I helped with
