The Pianist’s Wife

Chapter Four Berlin, 1939 Three Years Later

Chapter Four

Berlin, 1939

Three Years Later

Amira greeted her father at the door, taking his coat for him and pressing a kiss to his cold cheek.

‘You were home before dark?’ he asked.

‘Yes, Papa,’ she replied. ‘Dinner is ready and waiting, I’ve been home for an hour or more.’ As always , she thought. She’d never once come home after curfew or not been waiting for her father when he returned from work, yet every day he asked her the same question when he arrived back at their modest apartment.

‘How was your work today?’

‘It was good,’ she replied. ‘Although I have read the same children’s stories so many times now, I think I could recite them with my eyes closed.’

‘And you’re warm enough there? You don’t need a new coat or—’

‘No, Papa. I don’t need anything.’ She smiled, knowing his worrying was his way of caring. Some days he enquired about how well she had slept or was concerned about whether she needed new shoes, and she’d learned that it was just his way these days. He was either worrying about the state of the world or fretting that his daughter didn’t have what she needed.

‘Some of the other volunteers did mention going to the cinema though,’ she said, regretting the words the moment she’d said them. That is what I need, Papa, to do things with people my own age.

‘Amira,’ he began, his eyes creasing with concern.

‘I know, I have to be careful,’ she said, before he could lecture her on her safety, although sometimes she wondered why they had to be quite so careful, when he’d done such a great job of hiding her true identity. ‘I love my volunteer work, but sometimes I feel like I’m missing out.’ On exploring the city, meeting friends, going to dances and finding out what it’s like to kiss a boy.

‘I know it’s hard for you here,’ he said, his eyes watery as he leaned in to kiss her cheek. ‘But if anything were to happen to you—’

‘It won’t,’ she assured him. ‘Because I have you, and you’ve made certain that I’m safe. Now, come and have dinner.’ She knew the conversation was over then, and it only made her miss her mother more. She would have understood. Even if she’d had to keep Amira hidden away at home, she’d have been able to talk to her mother about all the things she wished she were doing, all her dreams.

He nodded, but his face was still lined with concern, making her wish she hadn’t said anything. Even as he walked to the table, she couldn’t help but notice the roundness of his shoulders, the way he seemed so aged compared to the man he’d been only a few years earlier. It didn’t matter how many times he pored over her papers at night, trying to find the tiniest of mistakes that someone might detect, or lectured her about the dangers of ever revealing her true self, he still worried.

She stood by their coat rack for a moment and closed her eyes, her back to the hard timber of their front door. Every night she hoped her father might come home and flash her a smile and show her that the man who’d once danced in their living room with her mother was still in there, and yet not once since they’d moved to Berlin had it happened.

In his determination to protect her, he’d done precisely what he’d set out to do and made himself indispensable to the party since they’d arrived, working for the Reich Press Chamber to scour documents each and every day for inconsistencies. He was skilled at detecting forgeries and unoriginal papers, and he’d spent more than a year making his way through the identity papers of editors and journalists all over Germany to ensure they were racially pure. He was looking for Jews and those married to Jews, and his work had taken a heavy toll on his mind, and heart – because he knew that he was sealing the fate of those he found. And it wasn’t that she didn’t understand the toll it took, she just longed to be a teenage girl arguing about regular things with her father, rather than feeling like such a burden to him.

Amira heard her father shuffling about in the kitchen and took a deep breath, straightening her shoulders and fixing a smile. ‘I went to the butcher and managed to get a nice cut of meat for tonight,’ she called out brightly. ‘So we have a casserole and fresh bread for our meal.’

She found him sitting at the kitchen table with a drink in hand, and she quickly took out bowls and ladled the casserole into them, giving him a generous portion.

‘Thank you,’ he said, when she placed his in front of him.

She returned to get the bread, but when she placed it in the middle of the table and sat down, she saw that his head was bowed, almost as if it were too heavy for his neck to hold it up.

‘Papa?’ she said, reaching out to touch his hand.

‘What I’m doing, Amira, it’s taking a piece of my soul,’ he said, his hand trembling beneath hers. ‘Every day when I collate my list of names, of those who are to lose their jobs and be—’

‘Papa, it’s not your fault,’ she said, rising so she could stand behind him, wrapping her arms about his shoulders and pressing her cheek to his. ‘If you weren’t doing it, someone else would be. You’re doing what you have to do.’

‘I’ve heard they’re sending them all away,’ he murmured. ‘I’ve seen them being rounded up into groups, being taken to the train station. But every time I think of hiding some of the doctored papers I find, every time I wonder if I could save the life of just one person by filing their papers with the others and not marking them, I wonder if it’s all a test. If someone will know what I’ve done, if they’ll discover that my work is not thorough.’

‘Where they’re going though, it can’t be so bad, can it?’ she asked. She’d heard some of the other volunteers at the orphanage say that the Jews were being relocated, and it hadn’t sounded terrible.

He sighed, heavily. ‘Amira, I believe it’s every bit as bad as we could imagine. I don’t...’

She waited for him to finish, before asking. ‘You don’t what?’

‘I don’t think those people, the ones who are being sent away, will ever come home to their families. They’re being lied to.’

Amira let go of him and stood taller. ‘Don’t say that. We have to believe that everything will get better.’

‘You sound just like her, you know,’ he said, taking his napkin and wiping at his eyes. Amira still held so many little things of her mother’s close to her heart, and she’d known as she’d spoken that they were her mother’s words; words she tried every day to believe in.

‘I know, Papa,’ she said. ‘I know how careful I have to be. You’ve taught me well.’

‘You must learn to be content with what you have, to keep your world small until this is all over.’

‘But would it be so bad for me to try to fit in more?’ she asked. ‘I always have to make up an excuse when the other volunteers make plans for the weekend, and one of the girls even mentioned a bookstore that—’

‘If you need books, tell me and I’ll buy them for you,’ he said, his eyes showing his fear. ‘Anything you need, Amira, you only have to ask.’

She nodded. He didn’t understand what she was trying to tell him. ‘I just want to do something other than cook, clean and volunteer,’ she finally said. ‘I just want to be a normal seventeen-year-old girl.’

‘You know I can’t allow that. We agreed that you would follow the rules, that you would do as little as possible outside of our home.’

She nodded, as she always did, and sat down and picked up her spoon to eat. Obeying her father was second nature to her, but as he looked up she felt her skin flush. The letter in her pocket felt as if it were burning a hole through her dress, and she half expected her father to know it was there and demand to see it.

‘You have to promise me, Amira, that you will never knowingly put yourself in danger. Your papers alone will never be detected, but if someone were to verify your heritage, to go through each part of your family tree to check for inconsistencies...’

‘Of course, Papa. I understand.’ They were the words he wanted to hear, and saying them seemed to relax him. ‘Please, let’s enjoy our meal.’

She should have known that her father would never relent and let her do anything social, and all these years she’d done exactly as he asked, except for when it came to her friendship with Gisele.

She’d taken a risk writing to her, but it had been worth it. Gisele was her only friend, and they’d secretly kept in touch since Amira and her father had moved.

And now, Gisele was coming to Berlin to study music, and they were going to see one another. Finally, after all this time, she was going to be reunited with her one true friend. She just had to make sure that her father never found out.

‘Amira!’

Amira had been sitting on the park bench, arriving early for her meeting with Gisele, and she stood when she heard her friend’s voice. It was deeper somehow, more mature than the last time she’d heard her speak, but the moment she turned and saw her running towards her, it felt as if no time had passed at all.

She had barely walked a few steps before Gisele reached her, throwing her arms around her, engulfing her in expensive-smelling perfume and crushing Amira to her soft blouse.

‘I can’t believe it!’ Gisele’s enthusiasm stifled any awkwardness, and Amira found herself laughing and hugging her back.

‘I can’t either,’ Amira said. ‘And you look so different. All this time, I’ve been imagining you from when I left.’

Gisele was very much a woman now. Her light-brown hair was swept up off her face, and she was wearing make-up, her cheeks blushed a soft pink that matched her lipstick. And her figure had filled out – not as much as Amira’s had, but she was not the skinny girl Amira had left behind, that was for sure.

‘Tell me everything,’ Gisele said. ‘All those letters of not really saying anything, they drove me crazy.’

‘I know, me too,’ Amira said. ‘But I don’t really have anything exciting to tell you. I wish I did, but we’ve had to be so careful since we moved. My father is always telling me to keep my world as small as possible, which means I barely have a life.’

Gisele’s smile hovered into a frown and she took Amira’s hands in hers. ‘I’m sorry, that was so insensitive of me. I just, well, I suppose I’d hoped that when you moved away things would be normal for you. Since no one knows about, well, you know.’

Amira sighed. ‘My father is very protective of me, and I understand why, but sometimes it’s like I can’t breathe for all his worrying. If I wasn’t volunteering at the orphanage, I’d actually go mad.’

‘I don’t know how you do it. I’d never have the patience to be with children all day,’ Gisele said. ‘But it’ll be great practice for when you’re a teacher.’

Amira didn’t tell Gisele that she very much doubted she’d ever be a teacher now. ‘I’m supposed to just play games with them and read books, but I’ve started to teach them little things as best I can. I’ve had the little ones practising the alphabet and the older ones are doing well in their reading and writing.’

‘Well, I’m sure they adore you. Younger children always flocked to you at school, and, well, in a way you must know how they feel.’

They sat for a moment, before Amira looked up at her. ‘I do. I think I feel for them in a different way to all the other volunteers.’

Gisele took her hand and squeezed it, and Amira felt a sense of comfort that she wasn’t sure she’d felt since leaving her hometown.

‘You know, I still think about your mother,’ Gisele said. ‘Sitting in your kitchen and eating her biscuits after school, they’re some of my favourite memories.’

Amira braved a smile, not wanting their conversation to be so sad. Some days she dreamed of the past and wondered how her life might have turned out if things had been different, but mostly she tried not to, because it only made her wish for what she couldn’t have.

Amira’s life might be boring but she doubted that Gisele’s was, and she wanted to live vicariously through her. She wanted to hear about all the exciting things Gisele had been doing.

‘What I’d do to come home and smell her baking one more time,’ Amira said, letting herself imagine it without being sad. ‘But what of you? I want to hear all about what you’ve been doing since you moved to Berlin.’

Gisele was suddenly biting down on her lip, as if she were fighting not to smile. ‘I’ve met a boy,’ she said, squeezing Amira’s hand again. ‘Well, a young man actually. His name is Hans.’

Amira’s heart fell at the news, wishing she was part of Gisele’s world. What she would give to be meeting boys and having fun. All the times they’d whispered about first kisses and dances, she’d imagined they’d be experiencing those firsts together. ‘Tell me all about him. Where did you meet him?’

‘Through a friend,’ she said. ‘We were at a dance and he was there, and the moment he looked at me, I just knew.’

‘Did he ask you to dance?’

‘He did, and then we danced and danced all night until the very last song.’

Amira clapped her hand over her mouth. ‘I’m so jealous! What does he look like?’

‘He’s tall, with dark-blond hair and brown eyes that I could stare into all night.’ Gisele grinned. ‘Do you remember Louis, from our class at school? Because he’s even better-looking than him.’

Amira couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to meet a young man, to have a normal life where she was allowed to go to dances and have fun, instead of hiding away at home. To meet a boy as handsome as Louis Bauer.

‘You know, he has some very handsome friends,’ Gisele said. ‘Maybe one night you could come out with us?’

Amira’s eyes met Gisele’s, and for a moment her heart fluttered in her chest as she imagined it. But at the same time she looked at Gisele’s beautifully tailored, fashionable clothes and wondered how she would ever fit in. Her father insisted on buying her whatever she needed, which had resulted in good-quality but practical clothing. She hadn’t realised quite how practical and unfashionable until she’d seen her friend, though.

‘My father would never let me.’

Gisele leaned in closer, tucking her arm through Amira’s. ‘What if he never found out? My mother knows nothing of Hans, and I have no intention of telling her until things become more serious. Even though I know she’d love him, I like having a secret from her.’ She grinned again. ‘Well, actually, I guess that means I have two secrets I’m keeping from her.’

‘She truly doesn’t know?’

‘She truly doesn’t know,’ Gisele said. ‘One of the reasons I wanted to come here was to get away from her and live my own life. I mean, I love studying music, but I love the independence more.’

Amira’s heart was fair pounding now, and a little voice in her head was becoming louder than the rational part of her brain. If Gisele could keep such things from her mother, then surely she could keep one secret from her father? She closed her eyes and imagined what it would be like to be asked to dance, to giggle with girlfriends and gossip about clothes and boys.

‘What do you say?’ Gisele asked. ‘Do you think you could come to the pictures with us one night?’

‘Yes, the pictures,’ Amira found herself saying. ‘Just something quiet, with not too many people. But I might need your help with a nice dress.’

Gisele smiled. ‘The pictures it is then. And don’t worry, I’ll find you something to wear.’

‘If I don’t go soon, Papa will start searching,’ Amira said, her stomach leaping at the thought of what they’d planned. ‘He likes me to hurry straight home and be waiting for him.’

‘Then go,’ Gisele said. ‘But we’ll see each other again soon, won’t we?’

Amira embraced her. ‘Of course we will. You have handsome young men for me to meet, remember?’

They both laughed, hugging again before Amira hurried off towards home. But unlike most nights, this time she had a spring in her step, and she knew that she’d have to hide her smile before she reached the apartment, or her father would know for certain that she’d been doing something forbidden.