from building an atomic bomb. But that's all I know.'
'You said stories, in the plural.'
'I was exaggerating. I don't know anything else about the German programme. Any fool could tell you that the Americans will be trying for an atomic bomb, but only the scientists will know how far they've got. And maybe the president, if they've bothered to tell him.'
Ramanichev smiled at that, but his companion just seemed disappointed. Five minutes later Russell was back in his cell, wondering what had just transpired.
Effi and Rosa were first in line when the Welfare Agency staff arrived at their Silesian Station desk that morning. Rosa had been working on a sketch of the concourse for about half an hour, and the two welfare workers spent so long admiring it that Effi's patience was sorely tested. Wherever they were going, they needed to get there before the morning raid.
Once fully engaged, however, their young woman helper proved both kind and efficient. She took down every false detail she was given, and asked where Effi wanted to go.
'We plan to stay here in Berlin,' Effi said, realising as she did so that she'd never considered doing anything else.
'Are you sure?' the woman asked. 'The bombing is very bad, and most refugees choose not to stay here. They go further west, to a small town, or into the countryside.'
Effi wavered, but only for a second. It would be safer for Rosa, and probably for herself, but no. She couldn't leave without letting Zarah know she was all right, or God only knew what risks her sister would take to find her. Even leaving the house was a risk these days. And then there was Ali, who would also be worried. And she knew Berlin. Anywhere else she would feel like a fish out of water. 'I must stay here,' she replied. 'We have relatives here, distant cousins of my late husband's. I'm afraid I don't have their address any longer – it was in my bag. But they live in Friedrichshain. Their name is Schmidt.'
'There are a lot of Schmidts in Friedrichshain…'
'I know, it's a common name. But if you could find us a room in that area, then maybe I can find them. We visited them before the war, and I think I would recognise their street if I saw it.'
'That may not be as easy as you think,' the woman told her. 'The bombing has been quite fierce, you know.' She opened a large ledger, and sought out the relevant page. 'Of course you may be lucky,' she added, as she ran her finger down a margin. 'And Friedrichshain is one of our best areas for empty properties.'
Which is why I chose it, Effi thought. A lot of Jews had lived in Friedrichshain.
'We have a room on Olivaer Strasse,' the woman said. 'It belonged to an old woman who died. There may be relations with a claim to it, but for the moment… well, it is a long way out, but in present circumstances that's almost a bonus – you'll have less chance of being bombed. She took a map from a drawer and spread it in front of Effi. 'Olivaer Strasse is somewhere in here,' she said, circling the area between Friedrichshain Park and the stockyards.
Rosa found it almost immediately.
'That looks perfect,' Effi said.
The woman added the address to the papers she'd already made out, checked through each one, and stamped them both. 'You must take these to the local NSV office, and they will issue a residence permit,' she said as she handed them over. 'And you must keep drawing,' she told Rosa.
As they walked away Effi breathed a huge sigh of relief. With any luck at all, they would sit out the last few days in the suburbs.
But first they had to reach this haven, and that, as soon became obvious, was easier imagined than done. There was no U-Bahn out to Friedrichshain, so their trip would be on the surface, and an air raid was almost guaranteed for later that morning. Travelling by tram would require at least one change, and with the service in its current state of repair might take most of the day. It would be safer to walk the four or five kilometres, but it wasn't a part of Berlin that Effi knew at all well. She nipped back to the NSV desk, and tried to memorise the names of the streets they needed to take.
Rosa had stayed with their luggage in the middle of the concourse, and was now talking to their Hitlerjugend friends from the previous night, who had doubtless noticed her standing alone, and sallied forth to offer their protection. By the time Effi reached the threesome, Rosa had explained their circumstances, and the taller of the two had offered to escort them to their new home. She felt like refusing, but knew she was being foolish. The young man seemed nice enough, and he was no more to blame for the uniform than Paul had been. There had been a time, she remembered, when Paul had loved his shirt and shorts and ceremonial dagger. 'That would be very kind of you,' she said. 'Are you sure you're allowed to leave the station?'
He returned five minutes later with the necessary permission, and soon they were out in the open air. A blanket of grey cloud hung low above the city, threatening rain. They started walking up Frucht Strasse towards Kustriner Platz, the young man carrying Effi's suitcase, she carrying Rosa's. The buildings of the Eastern Goods Station were missing most of their roofs and some of their walls, but trains were still being loaded by squads of foreign prisoners. Kustriner Platz had suffered serious damage, with several buildings reduced to rubble, the square itself combed with craters.
On the far side, Frucht Strasse continued north towards Frankfurter Allee. As they walked the young man told them his name was Franz, and that his father had died at Stalingrad. They wouldn't let him fight just yet, but when the Russians reached Berlin he planned to have his revenge. When Effi asked after his mother the boy shook his head. 'She has a boyfriend now,' he told them. 'She doesn't need me anymore.'
Approaching the elementary school on the corner of Frankfurter Allee they saw people lined up on the pavement, and a few moments later the roar of approaching vehicles provided a reason why. It was a military column heading out of the city, presumably bound for the not-so-distant Oder. It was mostly composed of trucks, all of which gave the impression of having been to Moscow and back. Two, Effi noticed, had French registration plates, so perhaps they'd gone with Napoleon.
There were also several horse-drawn guns and three well-worn tanks. Black-uniformed officers stood ramrod straight in each turret hatch, reminding Effi of Roman chariot riders. The tanks looked almost as ancient, but had probably come from the Spandau repair shops.
Turning her head to follow the procession, Effi suddenly caught sight of two men in leather coats. One chose that moment to glance in her direction, but seemed sufficiently reassured by her Hitlerjugend escort to resume his perusal of the passing column.
The noise was quite deafening, and the first sign of trouble was the sudden disappearance – like a Jack-in- a-box in reverse, she later remembered thinking – of one of the tank commanders. The hatch slammed shut and the tank accelerated, its treads whipping up a storm of brick dust. She was still wondering why when the first bomb exploded on the far side of the school, throwing earth and brick across Frankfurter Allee and up into the sky, and she was still looking round for Rosa when the second lanced down through the school roof and blew her off her feet.
If she passed out, it was only for a split second – the rest of the stick was exploding behind her, the school roof still crashing back to earth. There was pain and blood above her left ear, but otherwise she seemed uninjured. Raising her head, she could see people struggling to their feet.
But not Rosa. The girl was lying flat on her back a few metres away. Her eyes seemed to be closed.
'Please no,' Effi heard herself beg as she half crawled, half scrambled her way across the glass-strewn pavement. The girl's suitcase had been blown open, her meagre possessions scattered across the stone.
She could see no blood. 'Rosa! Rosa!' she entreated
The eyes opened, took Effi in. The mouth tried hard to smile. 'Am I all right?' she asked.
'I think you are,' Effi told her, putting an arm around the girl's neck and gently pulling her into a sitting position. Over Rosa's shoulder she saw that Franz was collecting the clothes, and carefully folding each item before putting it into the suitcase. And that now he was reaching for the tell-tale blouse.
'Franz,' she said, but he had already seen the faded star. Ignoring Effi, he simply stared at it for several seconds, and then went on with his folding.
But by then it was too late. One of the leather coats had seen it – or perhaps only Franz's reaction. He pushed the boy aside, knelt down beside the suitcase, and unfolded the blouse once more. 'Ha!' he said, and held it up for his partner to see.
