The Pianist’s Wife

Chapter Twenty-Five Amira

Chapter Twenty-Five

Amira

Amira had been out for most of the morning, with Otto trotting at her side on his leash. She had lined up with her ration book and been able to get a small piece of meat, more of the chicory coffee she’d slowly become used to, a small piece of bread and some fat. There was enough for her to get by on, and she was grateful that Otto was so tiny – she only needed to share a little with him to keep him happy. In hindsight, perhaps she should have continued to stay with Gisele, but as scared as she was of her identity being discovered, she’d desperately needed her own space, away from that house and any reminders of Hans or Gisele’s mother’s impending return. And she felt as if she were looking at the time every few minutes, wondering what Fred might be going through, where he was, whether she was going to be able to do something in time to save him.

As she walked, she looked up at the apartment buildings she passed. Some had gaping holes in their roofs, but others were mostly intact and unaffected by the bombing, with cages for rabbits on the balconies. Balcony pigs . She remembered that Fred had told her what they were when they’d been out one afternoon, and her stomach had turned violently at the fluffy creatures being kept for their meat rather than their company. He’d told her about the little gardens on rooftops, where families were trying to grow extra vegetables, and about the Jews hiding all over Berlin. She’d known there were many concealed throughout Germany, but she hadn’t realised so many remained in the city, hidden in attics or beneath floorboards, existing thanks to the kindness of others who were risking everything to help them.

Amira carried her two paper bags under one arm, her other hand holding the leash, and as she walked, she realised just how much she thought of Fred. The apartment was full of memories and echoes of him, and she sometimes found herself standing in his room and opening his closet, looking at all his things and inhaling the cologne that seemed to cling to the fabric. Or lying on top of his bed with Otto and trying to imagine where he was and how he was faring. She thought of Maxi often, too, especially when she was struggling to fall asleep at night, but Maxi was gone. Fred on the other hand... Fred might still be alive. And she kept telling herself that there had to be something she could do, that hope wasn’t lost.

‘Amira, isn’t it?’ She turned at her name, surprised to see a well-dressed woman speaking to her.

‘Mathilde?’ she asked, recognising one of the women she’d met from the night Fred had performed, when they were first married. ‘You’re one of Gisele’s friends?’

The woman smiled, and Amira found it hard to look her in the eye, when all she wanted to do was drop her gaze and take in the expensive-looking coat and diamonds on the woman’s fingers. She also noticed that she wore the same bronze Mother’s Cross as Gisele.

‘I was just having lunch with some of the other ladies, and we were talking about finding some new volunteers,’ she said. ‘We started out by knitting woollen socks for our boys away serving, but now we’re sorting through containers of clothes. You wouldn’t consider joining us, would you?’

Amira hesitated, feeling as if she had no choice but to say yes. ‘Of course, I would be honoured to help. I’m finding myself with far too much time on my hands now that I don’t have a job.’ It was probably a fantasy to think that any of the Nazi wives would want to help her, but the closer she was to people with influence, perhaps the more likely she was to have a chance of saving Fred.

‘Well, you’ll only have time on your hands until the baby arrives. My advice is to enjoy the last few months of peace,’ Mathilde said with a conspiratorial grin. ‘How have you been faring? I felt so sorry for you when you came over all faint that night.’

Amira froze, but quickly regained her composure and smiled back. She’d forgotten all about what had happened, and how everyone had presumed she was a pregnant newly-wed. ‘I’ve been fine since, thank you, although I was rather embarrassed on the night in question. I think it was too much excitement for me.’

‘Do you have a good doctor? I can always recommend mine if you need one. We have to nurture these pregnancies, you know, and the first one is often the most challenging.’ She paused. ‘You’re hardly showing at all.’

‘You’re so kind, thank you, but tell me more about this clothes-sorting?’ Amira said, trying desperately to change the subject. ‘It’s so admirable that you’ve made time to volunteer, especially when you have children to care for. When can I help?’

‘We go there every Tuesday and Thursday,’ Mathilde said. ‘In fact, we’re meeting in an hour or so. Would you like to come along today?’

Amira smiled, thankful that she’d been able to change the subject so easily, but panicked about having to spend the afternoon making pleasantries instead of doing something, anything , to help Fred.

‘Surely you don’t have anything more important to do than helping the cause?’

‘Of course not, I would love to,’ Amira said, as a bead of sweat broke out on her upper lip. ‘Let me get these groceries and the dog home, and I’ll be there just as soon as I can.’

The other woman beamed and gave her the address, and Amira forced herself to wave goodbye, hoping Mathilde hadn’t noticed how nervous Amira was, before hurrying in the direction of her apartment building. She had to pray that they hadn’t heard about Fred, but going meant being accepted into their circle. And the more accepted she was; well, hopefully the less likely it was that anyone would become suspicious of her. Or so she hoped.

Amira checked the address Mathilde had given her and approached the building with trepidation. Ever since Fred had been taken, her level of suspicion had risen, making her jump at every shadow, her breath often coming in shallow pants as she walked, not even realising how nervous she was until she heard her own short exhales.

There is no conspiracy to capture me , she told herself as she ascended the steps. If the SS wanted her, they would simply come and take her, it was as simple as that. The very fact they hadn’t come told her she wasn’t under investigation – yet. And that Hans had kept her secret, for now at least.

‘Amira!’ Mathilde exclaimed, seeming to spot her the moment she walked in.

The other women who were gathered all looked up, their smiles friendly given Mathilde’s welcome.

‘Well, you’ve all certainly got your work cut out for you here, haven’t you?’ Amira said, taking off her coat and placing it over her handbag. ‘Where shall I put my things?’

‘We all put our belongings over there,’ Mathilde explained, pointing before looping her arm through Amira’s and lowering her voice. ‘We wouldn’t want our things to get mixed up with any of this.’

‘Or to touch it,’ another woman said, making a face. ‘It hasn’t been laundered yet, and I pity the poor souls who receive it not realising it’s sullied.’

Amira left her bag and coat where she’d been instructed and rolled up her sleeves, knowing that she was going to have to make a huge effort with the other women, to ensure that they welcomed her into the fold. If she could get them onside, then perhaps she could slowly convince them all how ridiculous it was that Fred had been taken, which might just lead to their husbands being enlisted to help. It wasn’t foolproof, but it was something.

‘It’s all been checked for valuables, but our job is to sort it properly for distribution,’ Mathilde said. ‘Just watch us and you’ll soon get the hang of it.’

‘I’m Jan,’ the woman to her left said. ‘Mathilde’s told us all about you.’

Amira reached for a beautiful coat and ran her hands across the soft wool, smiling at the other woman.

‘Well, I hope only good things,’ she said with a smile, before looking up at the enormous volume of clothes and shoes that filled the warehouse. She’d never seen so many garments in one space in all her life. ‘Where on earth do all these things come from, anyway?’

‘The camps,’ Mathilde said, with a grin. ‘They take them off all the Jews after they’ve... you know .’

Amira dropped the coat as if she’d been holding hot coals, her face clearly showing her horror.

‘Oh, look at her!’ Jan giggled.

Mathilde joined in, and soon all the women were laughing at Amira, as if she were the funniest thing they’d seen all day. That was why they’d said it was sullied? That it should be laundered? Because it had belonged to the Jews? These things had been taken off them after they’d arrived at the camps, leaving them with nothing?

‘We were all the same,’ Mathilde said, patting her hand. ‘In the beginning, we were most uncomfortable, but my husband has assured me you can’t catch anything from just touching their clothes. There are no actual diseases on their skin.’

‘And in case you’re wondering, they take them off before they gas them,’ Jan said, matter-of-factly, as if she were talking about the weather. ‘They wouldn’t let us touch them if that was the case, our men wouldn’t stand for it.’

Amira gingerly reached for the coat again, realising she was going to have to play along, as sickening as it all was, even though she felt as if she could barely breathe past the horrors of what they were saying.

‘They send all their clothing back here, to Berlin?’ Amira asked, as she inspected the coat and folded it, before placing it with the other coats that had been checked.

‘All of it,’ Jan said. ‘They trick them into thinking they’ve got a chance, from what I’ve heard. My husband told me they tell them to pack a suitcase, a piece of hand luggage and a rucksack, but other than what they eat on the journey, everything gets taken when they arrive. But it keeps them calm, makes them feel as if they’re going to be re-settled somewhere, you know? It’s easier when they don’t fight.’

Amira nodded. ‘I had no idea,’ she said. ‘And where do all these clothes end up?’

‘With families who can’t afford to buy new,’ Mathilde said. ‘Some of the silly Jews even pack expensive tea sets, as if they’re off to a new house instead of a camp, and it all comes back here. They don’t get to keep a thing .’ Her words were revolting, but Amira only smiled and continued with the task she’d been set as she listened to them talk.

‘Do you know what happens at the camps?’ she asked, trying her very best to sound nonchalant.

‘Who cares? So long as they don’t come back, why even think about them?’

Amira nodded politely, forcing a smile and trying to appear engaged as they moved on to talking about their hairstyles and moaned about not being able to buy new dresses, and bragged about their perfect little children. But inside, she simmered with anger at how inhumane they were.

‘Amira, I’ve been telling the ladies about your gorgeous husband,’ Mathilde said, as a new box of clothes was brought over to them. ‘Tell us, does he play the piano for you at home?’

Amira looked around at all the women, their faces turned to hers, and hoped that her red cheeks didn’t give her away. She had the most awful notion that one of them, maybe even all of them, might know what had happened.

‘When Fred’s home he can barely keep his hands off me,’ she said, hoping her red cheeks only added to her authenticity. ‘He barely has time to play the piano.’

They all laughed as if it were the funniest thing they’d ever heard, before Mathilde cleared her throat.

‘And when will we all be hearing your delightful husband perform again?’

‘Ah, well,’ Amira said, smiling brightly before looking back up, feeling like a mouse about to be caught by the cat. She knew how foolish she’d been to ever think these women could be friends enough to want to help her. ‘Soon, I hope. I know he’s spent many hours rehearsing for his next concert.’

‘Now I heard you’re a close friend of Gisele’s?’ another woman said, giving Amira a moment to breathe from answering questions about Fred. ‘I’m surprised she hasn’t introduced us before?’

‘Gisele is a very dear friend, but I’m only newly married and she is so busy with all her beautiful children,’ Amira said.

When Mathilde told them that Amira was expecting, they all made such a fuss that Amira’s skin began to crawl. If only they knew they’re rubbing shoulders with a Mischling.

But at the same time, she suddenly turned her mind to when she’d last had her monthly courses. She had been feeling nauseous, but she’d put that down to a gnawing fear in her belly from worrying about Fred.

I couldn’t be, could I?

The next morning, there was a knock at the door, and Amira crossed the sitting room to answer it, terrified about who would be calling so early. She’d barely slept the night before, tossing and turning in bed as she thought about the child growing inside of her, knowing without a doubt that she was pregnant. The nausea, the tenderness of her breasts, the time it had been since she’d last bled – there was no other explanation.

She took a deep breath, fearful, yet knowing that if the Gestapo were waiting for her, they would have likely kicked the door in rather than knock politely. She’d been expecting them ever since Gisele had confessed her secret to Hans.

‘Hans?’ She took a step back, nervous as he stared coldly at her. ‘I wasn’t expecting you.’ She ran her thumb over her left wrist, hoping that he wasn’t about to arrest her, that he hadn’t come to her home to take her away. She could almost imagine what the handcuffs would feel like.

‘May I come in?’

‘Yes,’ she found herself saying, her nerves setting her teeth to rattling. If he hadn’t come to arrest her, had he come to tell her to flee? To warn her of what was to come? ‘Coffee?’ she asked, her voice catching in her throat and coming out as a whisper.

‘Please.’

She ushered him in and closed the door behind him, showing him through the house, but he stopped at the piano and exhaled sharply.

‘Amira, I’d like to apologise for the part I played in Fred’s capture,’ he said. ‘If I’d known the charges, if I’d realised the severity of what they were going to question him about...’

Amira nodded and pointed him towards the kitchen table, where he sat, still in his heavy jacket, his eyes looking dark and his skin sallow.

‘Hans, please just let me go. Let me flee Berlin, let me try to hide myself.’

He looked up, and she noticed how bleary his eyes were, as if he hadn’t slept.

‘If you let me go you’ll never hear from me again. I’ll stay away from Gisele, I’ll—’

‘I’m not going to tell anyone your secret, Amira.’

She froze, staring back at him, her breath ragged. ‘You’re not?’

‘Gisele would never forgive me if I did.’

Amira nodded, not sure what to say.

Hans gave her a look that indicated he knew precisely how much it meant to her, but didn’t say anything, and she had the distinct feeling that they were playing a game of cat and mouse.

‘You know, our marriage did start as one of convenience, but after Maxi died...’ She looked up at Hans, knowing that she had to give him the performance of her life. ‘I love him, Hans.’

‘Well, I can’t imagine what it must be like for you. Are you nervous being alone here in the apartment?’

‘It’s been difficult, but I’m lucky to have this little man to keep me company,’ she said, stroking Otto’s fur.

‘I see. My children are certainly very fond of him.’

They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a moment after she’d brought the two coffees to the table.

‘Hans, have you heard anything more of Fred?’ Amira asked. ‘I hate to ask you, but I’m so desperate to hear something, anything, about how he’s faring.’

Hans didn’t reply.

‘Hans, he’s all I have left.’ The words hung in the air as Amira caught her breath, gasping as she said them. If he’s even still alive, but I refuse to believe otherwise until I know for sure.

‘He’s not all you have left,’ Hans said. ‘You have Gisele, she’s been your friend since you were girls, and you could forget all about Fred and meet—’

‘No, Hans, you have Gisele. You have your wife and your children, but I have no one anymore.’ She steadied her voice. ‘I need my husband to come home. I love him and I want him to come home!’

Hans was silent for a long moment, and she watched as he reached into his pocket and took out a cigarette. He lit it and inhaled.

‘Hans, Fred isn’t just my husband, he’s also an incredibly talented pianist. Why would the Nazi Party want to persecute someone so talented, someone who is such a champion of our great composers?’

Hans lowered his cigarette, considering her as if he were trying to decide whether or not to tell her something. Or perhaps he was deciding whether to believe her show of love towards a man whose sexuality he still doubted.

‘Amira, Fred has been transferred to Buchenwald concentration camp. Somehow, he was one of the few imprisoned men who’ve ever gotten on a train out of Auschwitz.’

‘He’s alive?’ Amira gasped, before asking: ‘Why would they move him?’

Hans sighed. ‘I don’t know, Amira, but I can tell you that I’ve never heard of anyone leaving there, not in recent years, and especially not now. Most of them are being sent straight to—’ His voice tapered off, as if he’d realised what he was about to say.

‘Say it, Hans,’ Amira implored.

He downed his coffee and held the cup so tightly, Gisele feared it would shatter in his hand.

‘They usually exterminate most of them on arrival,’ he finally said. ‘Most of the time...’

She blinked back at him, needing him to say the words, knowing in her heart what he was going to say. He put the cup on the table.

‘Most of the time, what ?’ she forced herself to ask.

‘Most of the time they don’t even stand a chance.’

She wrapped her arms tightly around herself as her body began to shake. It had been one thing hearing the Nazi wives gossip about the atrocities, but to hear a man like Hans say it, a man who without a doubt knew what happened there, was truly something else. ‘Can you help him? Is there any way we can appeal the charges? Prove that they were wrong about him?’

‘I don’t know what you think I can do, but my hands are tied.’

Amira looked him in the eye. ‘I want you to tell me about this camp he’s been taken to, this place called Buchenwald. I want to know what it’s like there, and what he will be going through.’

Hans nodded, continuing to smoke. ‘Once an inmate arrives there, he will likely be processed into the main camp and assigned a role. The men there are mostly used as labourers, so it’s unusual that he was sent there at all to be honest. I thought he would have been kept at Auschwitz-Birkenau.’

‘Would he have been taken there by truck?’ she asked, wanting to paint a picture in her mind of exactly what the conditions would be like for him. ‘Is that how they transport them?’

‘No, he will have arrived by train. They transport all the prisoners in the cattle cars.’

She hid her surprise, not seeing any point in telling Hans just how revolting that was. What she needed was information, and she didn’t want to waver in case he stopped being truthful with her. But to be transported in wagons made for large livestock? It was appalling.

‘And will he be safe there? Will he be fed?’

Hans shifted at that question, as if he wasn’t comfortable with the response.

‘Hans? I want you to tell me the truth, I need to hear it.’

‘ Safe is a relative term,’ he eventually said. ‘Compared to Auschwitz, his chance of survival is much higher. Many of the new arrivals are taken directly to the crematoria at Auschwitz without being processed, but there is no gas chamber at Buchenwald, so that is one thing. But they work them hard, and they feed them little, so survival rates aren’t high.’

Amira’s hand went to her stomach and she willed herself not to be sick. The very idea that he could have been killed on arrival at Auschwitz was almost impossible to comprehend.

‘There is a chance he could survive this place, then?’ she asked. ‘There is a chance that if he is strong and clever, if he can get by on little food, that he could make it?’

‘There is a chance,’ Hans said. ‘There might not be a gas chamber, but that doesn’t mean that prisoners aren’t killed there. If they do something wrong, if they become unwell or try to escape, or if a guard takes a dislike to them...’ He made a noise in his throat.

‘What?’ she asked. ‘What happens then, if they dislike them?’

‘They are shot,’ he said simply.

Amira stood, her breath loud to her own ears as her chest rose and then fell.

‘You promise you’re telling me everything?’ she asked. ‘I don’t want you to spare me any detail that you’re aware of. I need to know what he’s going through, or what might happen to him. I need to be prepared for every possible outcome.’

Hans lit another cigarette. His hand shook ever so slightly, and she wondered if he was nervous or perhaps even unwell.

‘There are rumours,’ he finally said.

‘Rumours?’

‘Rumours about what they do to men like him there.’

Amira swallowed. She knew what he was referring to, just as she knew that neither of them was going to say it out aloud. ‘What do they do to them?’

‘They conduct medical experiments. I’ve heard that the doctor there is interested in experimenting with ways to sterilise them, and other such things. He is known to be rather sadistic in his experiments.’

This time Amira only just stopped the bile from rising into her mouth. She couldn’t even imagine what such an experiment would involve.

‘And you think they might do such things to Fred? In the belief that he is a homosexual?’

‘ Verdammt , Amira, I don’t know! You’ve asked me to tell you these things and I have, but I don’t know and I don’t want to know. They are not things we should be talking about!’

Amira knew she needed to tread carefully, even though she wanted to yell back at him and call him a coward, to blame him for Fred even being there in the first place. Instead, she took a deep breath to steady herself before speaking again.

‘I just want to know how likely it is that he will survive,’ she said, keeping her voice low. ‘I want to know if there is any chance he will make it out of that dreadful camp alive, if this war ever ends.’

‘You’re suggesting that we may not win this war?’ Hans asked, massaging his temple with his fingers. ‘That is quite a statement.’

‘Is it so unlikely? Is it not true that the tide might be turning against us?’ She thought of what Maxi had whispered to her as they lay in bed, that he no longer thought the Germans were so assured of being victorious.

‘I disagree with you about the outcome of the war, but look, even if he’s one of the lucky ones, the chances are that everyone there will perish from malnutrition eventually,’ Hans said. ‘But there is one chance, a very small chance, that could change his outcome. There’s no doubting his musical genius, after all.’

Amira’s eyebrows rose. ‘What chance?’

Hans pressed what was left of his cigarette into an ashtray and stood, walking back and forth before coming to sit across from her.

‘There is a type of sub camp at Buchenwald for a small number of inmates,’ he said, folding his hands and drawing her gaze to them as he spoke. ‘They hold political prisoners there and anyone else that might be of value, people who have special skill sets and the like. They are hostages I suppose, for the sake of a better word, rather than prisoners.’

‘And why is it different for these hostages?’ she asked.

‘Well, they are more interested in keeping them alive, in case they prove useful, or to preserve their special talents,’ he said. ‘The former French premier, for instance, Léon Blum, is being held there. They call it the Fichtenhain Special Camp.’ Hans looked like he was going to say something else, but then didn’t.

‘What is it? You’re holding something back?’

‘I heard that Blum’s lover followed him there, and they were permitted to be married.’

‘At Buchenwald?’ she gasped. ‘They were married inside the camp?’

‘They were. She refused to be parted from him and joined him in the camp, and they are both being held together from what I understand.’ He chuckled. ‘It was quite the talk among the SS, that this pretty French woman turned up at the camp voluntarily, when the rest of the population is doing everything they can to avoid being sent there.’

‘Then that’s what I’ll do.’

Hans frowned. ‘What do you mean, that’s what you’ll do?’

Amira stared him straight in the eye. ‘I shall join Fred at Buchenwald.’

He laughed. Then his face tightened into an expression she’d never seen him wear before. ‘Amira, that’s ridiculous. You are not going to Buchenwald. It’s a place to be avoided at all costs.’ He shook his head. ‘And given your heritage, given everything you’ve done to stay hidden, the secrets you’ve kept...’

She folded her arms. ‘Fred is my husband, and if you can’t get him home to me, then you shall find a way of getting me to him. He will never survive that place on his own.’

Hans shook his head. ‘Amira, you can’t do this. I won’t let you. What even makes you think that you would survive there? Do you think he’d be happy about you being behind barbed wire?’

‘I wasn’t asking for your permission, Hans,’ she said, sitting up a little straighter. ‘What would it entail, my voluntarily going there?’

‘I’m not having this conversation with you, Amira!’ he said, standing abruptly and stalking away from her.

She stood and poured him a brandy, watching as he downed it and looked back at her. She poured him another drink and a very small one for herself, too. Her one sip of amber liquid burned a particularly fiery path down her throat and sat uncomfortably in her stomach, although it did help to settle her nerves.

‘Amira,’ Hans said, now sitting on the edge of his chair. ‘You can’t consider this. It would be suicide, and Gisele would never forgive me if I helped you.’

She gripped her glass in her hand. ‘Just humour me, then,’ she said. ‘If I were to do it, what would I need to do to stay alive?’

‘Amira . . .’

‘If you help me get to Fred, it will keep me away from your family. You won’t have to worry about keeping my secret,’ she said, seeing the change in his stare, knowing that no matter what he might have said privately to Gisele, he would likely do anything to get her out of their lives.

He made a noise like he was grinding his teeth.

‘So, what do you say?’