While Still We Live (31 page)

“Hofmeyer won’t like to hear that,” she said, and almost shuddered at her temerity.

“But you won’t tell him.” Henryk’s voice was soft as silk. His assurance was unbounded. “What I can’t believe is that you should have lived in London so long without Bracht discovering you. It had to be Hofmeyer!”

“Switzerland suited my complexion better than London. Bracht should have met me there.”

Henryk laughed. He had a fine set of teeth. Like a beartrap, Sheila thought.

“Why did you come here?” she asked again. “Did Hofmeyer tell you my address?”

“I followed you two days ago. You were walking back from the centre of the town with the American. You’ve got him neatly under control. There’s nothing like a pair of pretty eyes, unless it is a pair of pretty legs. I wager Hofmeyer doesn’t know your value.”

“He has given me his orders. I am quite satisfied.”

“And loyal, too. Brains, beauty, and loyalty. You’ll go far. With the right boss.” There was a coarse huskiness in his voice which irritated her.

Sheila suddenly thought, I can’t bear much more of this. I can’t bear it I could take off my shoe to smash in these mocking, knowing eyes. She pretended to listen. “Thought I heard Madame Aleksander,” she said, and lowered her voice. “Quiet!”

“The old girl’s dead-beat,” Henryk said.

“Why did you come here? Have you news for me? Or is this just a social call?” She rose wearily, and walked to the window.
People were out there: people who were her friends and this man’s enemies.

“Purely social.” He was laughing again. Then with his voice very smooth again, and the hoarseness quite gone, he added quietly, “Used to know Munich. Was stationed there in 1932. Were you there then? I wager you used to walk past the Brown House in pigtails, and look at the men standing guard outside. I used to be one of them.”

“Yes, I saw them. But probably not you. I left Munich in 1932. Fräulein Leigh must have heard you were coming to town.” She turned once more to the window. There were two policemen now in sight if she leaned out of the window and called down for help, she could have Henryk arrested. The Germans weren’t in full control here yet. Not until the first of October.

“Who was Fräulein Leigh?” His voice was too gentle.

“She brought me up.” If I could dash out of this door and lock it, Sheila thought, if I could tell the policemen that this man was a spy, they would know what to do with him quite unofficially but effectively. One spy less. One spy with his account rendered and paid.

“An orphan?” he murmured sympathetically.

“My father was killed on the west front. My mother was—I’m sorry. I must be boring you.”

“Not at all. Your mother, Lotte Braun, was...?”

“My mother,
Frieda
Braun, was in Cologne.”

“What’s so interesting in the street? Come and sit down over here. Did you ever meet Bracht in London?”

Sheila said, “I was keeping watch for the boy Casimir. He is entering the house now. He’s another refugee that Herr Stevens
is sheltering.”

Casimir’s clatter ended abruptly in the doorway. Henryk was standing before a cracked wall, prodding the loose plaster most expertly. Sheila had picked up a magazine.

“Quietly, Casimir,” Sheila said. “Madame Aleksander is sleeping next door. What have you brought for supper? Wonderful! Would you fill the pot from the water-bucket in the kitchen, Casimir? I’ll be with you in a minute as soon as this man leaves.”

“Who’s he?” Casimir asked curiously. The dog was pawing Sheila’s knee to attract attention. Me too, it seemed to say. She rubbed its head and replied, “Some workman or other. He’s just finished inspecting the damage.”

Casimir went towards the kitchen with a last curious look at the man. The dog followed him, his nose surely pointed towards the food.

“Time to be going,” Sheila said in a low voice to Henryk. She was surprised when he obeyed.

“Just routine check-up, ma’am,” he said in Polish loud enough for Casimir to hear. And then he added out of the side of his mouth, “Quite the friend of the Poles, aren’t you?”

“Those were my instructions.”

“What are your plans?”

“Waiting further instructions.”

He looked, down at her, his eyes so impenetrable that Sheila wondered in alarm if she had betrayed herself. She was left with the unsatisfactory question unanswered, for Henryk was already moving into the hall. He was whistling. She remembered that early morning in Uncle Edward’s flat and the sound of water as the hot dust was hosed off the pavement under her
window. Again she echoed her thoughts of that morning; what has he to be happy about? But this time she knew the answer.

She stood at the window until she saw Henryk enter the street. Another workman, loitering in a near-by doorway, joined him. Together, they strode away, their feet keeping perfect rhythm. If she had called the policemen, she might have caught Henryk, but she would have endangered Hofmeyer. She took a deep breath. Now that she was safely alone, without a phrase or expression to betray her and threaten her friends, she suddenly felt terribly afraid.

From the kitchen, Casimir’s voice called cheerily.

She roused herself. “Coming, Casimir,” she said, and placed the magazine slowly back in place. She wished this man Henryk weren’t so ambitious. She wished he weren’t jealous of Hofmeyer. She knew she had good reason to be afraid.

MR. HOFMEYER’S APPRENTICE

The first Germans entered Warsaw. The human-length mounds along the streets and gardens welcomed them. Rough wooden crosses were the banners which the city raised. The withering flowers on the unknown graves were the petals strewn in the conqueror’s path.

The people, too busy with their search for food and water and jobs, for scattered families and rooms where they could live now that the Germans occupied so many houses, hardly seemed to notice the green-grey uniforms crowding their streets.
Ignore them
was the unconscious reaction. The Germans offered chocolate bars to children and took photographs. They offered bread and soup to the less proud and took more photographs. (Later, the bill for soup and bread was charged to the city; no photographs were taken of that event!) But the people seemed coldly oblivious: they were like men who have been sharply awakened from an evil dream, who moved and talked with
the dream still haunting them. If there was bitterness in their hearts for their failure, bitterness on their tongues for those they blamed, still more bitter were their eyes as they ignored the Germans doling out little benefits with so much fanfare. The Nazis gave so little compared to what they had destroyed. The chocolate offered to a starving Polish child, even without the newsreel cameras cranking in the background, was merely added insult to his mother’s sufferings. The smiling, confident Germans would have been amazed, even indignant, if that had been pointed out to them. Sometimes, Sheila wished she could enjoy that luxury.

But it was luxury to be alive at all. Even after a week of silent guns, she was still amazed that any people should still be left. She was still more amazed that she should be counted among them. As she walked along the partly cleared streets towards Central Station she could only think, “In spite of all of this, some of us still live. Some of us still have homes. And some,” as she noted a man and woman hawking a tray of stockings outside a boarded-up shop, “some are beginning to plan their lives again.” The extraordinary thing about human beings was their resilience.

* * *

She attempted a short cut to the station, and entered a quiet thoroughfare to reach Marszalkowska Avenue. But its end which joined the larger street was still blocked by an immense barricade. Men were even working now to tear it down. They worked grimly. No doubt they were thinking of how they had planned to retreat and fight behind these barricades. They had built them strong. But the failing supply of ammunition, the lack of water, had beaten them. And now the order had been
given that Polish hands must tear the barricades down, so that the Nazis could stroll through the street.

One of the men straightened his back, pulled on his well-cut jacket with grimy hands. Another man had stepped forward to take his place: each citizen gave so much of his time as he passed by the barricades which ringed the centre of the city; each stepped forward, worked for the same period of time, and then relinquished his place to another. The man in the well-cut suit was trying to wipe off the dust on his hands. He noticed Sheila’s hesitation as she calculated what would now be the quickest way of reaching Central Station. She must not be late, not for her very first meeting with Mr. Hofmeyer.

“Trying to get to Marszalkowska?” he asked. “You’ll have to make a detour. I’m going there. I’ll show you the quickest way.”

“Thank you,” Sheila said in relief.

“Stranger?” the man said. He finished rubbing his hands. He wore the neat black jacket and striped trousers of a once prosperous business-man.

“Yes. British.”

“
Hm
.” The man looked sourly at her. After that he didn’t speak until they had reached Marszalkowska Avenue. “There you are,” he said abruptly.

“Thank you again.” Her smile hesitated: this man didn’t want any smiles from foreigners. But he had noticed the expression in her eyes and halted unexpectedly.

“What are you doing here?”

“I stayed. I thought I could help.”

“
Hm
. You’re one of the few foreigners who did, then.”

“I’m sorry,” Sheila said miserably.

The man stared at her. He noticed the bloodstains still smudging her coat, its singed cuff, the red skinless flesh on her left hand, her bare legs, her worn shoes.

“I’m sorry, too,” he said gruffly. “Good day.” But his voice had lost its hard edge, and the bitterness in his face eased for a moment. “Please forgive me,” he said wearily, and then he left her.

* * *

It was a subdued Sheila who crossed the street and reached Central Station. Its twisted, blackened ruins increased her depression.

Hofmeyer was already there. He was walking with his light step quickly towards her.

“Good day, Anna,” he said in German, “I was beginning to think that you didn’t get my message this morning.” He caught her arm to turn her round so that she faced the way she had come. “This way. I am taking you to my new office. I realised you might not be able to find it easily, but you would certainly know the way to the station, at least. Besides I wanted to have a little talk.”

“I’m sorry I’m late. I took a short cut which was like most short cuts.”

Hofmeyer’s grip tightened on her arm warningly. “Look happier,” he said in a low voice, his face still looking straight ahead of him. “Our friends are everywhere now.”

He spoke the truth. Apart from the uniforms, the Germans who had hidden themselves in Warsaw had come forth to enjoy their triumph. They were dressed like Poles. They were trying to look like Poles, for now their job would be to mix with Poles and spy on them. But today there was that certain exultation in
their faces, which men find difficult to hide.

“They’ve won,” Hofmeyer said in that very low voice, his lips scarcely moving. “Take a good look, Anna. That’s how you feel when you win.”

“It must be a pleasant feeling,” Sheila said bitterly, speaking as secretly as her companion had done.

“And that’s why you must look happier. You’re one of them now.”

“You depress me still more.”

“Fortunately this walk to my new office isn’t so very long. You can let you face relax there. Only you must guard your tongue once you are inside. Speak German at all times. If we have any private talking to do, then we shall take a little walk through the streets. And whenever we are taking such a walk, you are to talk about the weather as soon as you feel my hand knock against yours.”

Sheila looked surprised.

“Just as the walls have ears in a German office, so the streets have ears in a German-controlled town. Now is there anything to report before we reach the office?”

“The man Henryk has been to see me.”

“Henryk? You mean Heinrich Dittmar? The devil he did.” He was silent for some paces. “Well, I won’t deny that was a surprise. What did he want?”

“He called it a ‘social call’. But I got the feeling that he disliked you, and—please don’t think I’m exaggerating—I thought he would like to do you some harm.”

Hofmeyer didn’t laugh. He nodded grimly, and said, “You are not far wrong, there. Any further—feelings?”

“He was more interested in me than was necessary. I’ve
worried ever since. What could have given him a suspicion?”

“Not a suspicion. At least, we must hope not. Heinrich Dittmar is well known. If he must work with women, he likes them young and pretty. Elzbieta was very pretty once, you know.”

“But I am under your orders.”

“What’s that to Dittmar? My dear Anna, if you could see the energy and tempers that are wasted on little jealousies in the Party, you’d never criticise the democracies again. I have just been through a particularly tiresome session. About offices. Yes, you may laugh, but it’s true. We squabble over offices—which are the most comfortable and the most impressive. It is a point of honour with small minds to put such emphasis on material display of importance. We are now fighting over the housing of our staffs and even about the staffs themselves. We all want the best, to show how much authority we have. We are jockeying for our future positions and power.”

“It sounds fantastic. Then their supposedly united front is...?”

“No. It’s united in the main things. They know that if they aren’t united, then the little butcher or grocer of a Saxon village would cease being the Gaulieter of hundreds of square miles. The debt-haunted Berlin clerk would stop travelling first-class, staying at the best hotels, wouldn’t have all the women and expensive dinners he likes to enjoy. The dull schoolteacher from Bavaria would no longer be able to have a mansion and motor car and servants. The—” His hand crushed heavily against her arm.

Sheila hesitated and then the words rushed out on top of each other. “It is getting so cold, and the rain is miserable now
that it has come.”