Chapter 2
Leonore Vogel closed her notebook and stowed it in the drawer, before she stepped into her boss’s office in the adjoining room.
“I’m finished for today, unless you need anything else?”
“No, thank you.” Herr Balsen looked up from his desk, where, as usual, there was barely an inch of space to be seen.
Books, magazines, notepads and scraps of paper were heaped to gravity-defying heights.
When Leonore had started working for Herr Balsen about a year earlier, she’d feared the stacks might tip over at any moment, burying the publisher.
Once, she’d even suggested tidying his desk.
The memory of his horrified expression still made her smile.
She had long since given up her attempts, since Herr Balsen had proved impervious to change.
As his secretary, she kept the rest of the office in order, keeping a meticulous schedule of his many appointments with writers, editors, sales representatives, librarians, typesetters, graphic artists, printers, and suppliers of every kind, but his office remained his own realm.
A realm where “creative chaos” reigned – as he was fond of calling it.
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then.” Leonore had wanted to become a journalist, but that dream had been shattered by the law banning Jews from the profession.
“Don’t forget you have an appointment with the paper supplier at 9 a.m.” Herr Balsen rarely went home before midnight, and had missed a morning appointment on more than one occasion.
“I won’t.” He looked at her gratefully. “Thank you for taking such good care of me.”
In reality, it was he who took good care of her: he continued to employ her despite the obstacles to employing a Jewish woman and even paid her more than was her due.
Leonore put on her hat and coat and grabbed her purse before leaving the office.
She needed to visit her friend Birgit to collect groceries.
Since the hours Jews were allowed to shop had been strictly limited to between 4 and 5 p.m., she rarely managed to get into a store herself.
Of course, she could have asked Herr Balsen to give her the hour off, but she didn’t want to leave when there was so much work to do.
Besides, her boss was already doing enough for her.
So she preferred to ask her Aryan friend; it gave her a good reason to visit.
“Leonore, it’s good to see you,” Birgit greeted her. “Come in for a moment.”
“Thank you.” Leonore took off her shoes and followed her friend into the tiny kitchen, where she made herself comfortable in a chair and downed the apple juice Birgit offered. “Did you manage to get something with my ration cards?”
“I went into two stores that refused to sell me anything, so I had to wait until the afternoon and try again. Unfortunately, the only thing left was potatoes. Everything else was sold out.” Birgit pulled out a small bag of potatoes with a contrite expression and handed it to Leonore.
“Nothing else?”
Her disappointment must have been clear on her face. “No. It’s almost impossible to shop at that hour. But you can take something of mine, and I’ll try again tomorrow.”
“Thank you so much!” Leonore hugged her friend. “What would I do without you?”
“You’d have starved a long time ago,” laughed Birgit, before her smile froze as she realized how close to the truth her words were.
“Damn Hitler!” Leonore wished she could leave the country.
But she had neither sufficient money, nor the guarantor required for an immigration visa to a neutral country.
These days, the only country not charging an exorbitant amount for an entry permit was China, but Leonore wasn’t that desperate yet.
Under Herr Balsen’s protective hand, surely she would somehow survive these times.
“You can say that again. I really don’t know how this can continue.” Birgit sighed deeply before staring at Leonore. “I didn’t want to tell you, but the clique plans to go dancing this weekend.”
“I’m in,” Leonore said quickly.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Birgit and Leonore had known each other for many years.
They had attended school together, and even after the Nazis had seized power, Birgit and their friends had remained loyal to Leonore.
But Birgit constantly feared for Leonore’s safety, to the point where Leonore felt like a chick being mothered by an overzealous hen.
“Of course it’s a good idea! After the week I’ve had, I’m in urgent need of some relaxation, and what could be better than an evening out dancing with friends?”
“You know I’d love for you to come along, but what will you do if they catch you?”
“Pfft. No one’s going to catch me.” Leonore twisted her dark blond curls around her index finger, pouting and fluttering her eyelashes. “What SS officer could resist this lovely girl?”
Birgit shook her head. “One day you’ll run into someone who’s immune to your flirting, and he’ll arrest you for not wearing the star.”
“I’ll worry when that time comes. Until then, I want a taste of life.”
“Sooner or later, that attitude is going to get you into trouble.”
Leonore’s chin jutted out as she gazed at her friend.
She loved Birgit beyond words, but sometimes – like now – she found her infuriating.
It was all very well for Birgit to talk: she was an Aryan, allowed to do just about anything she wanted, despite the war and all the deprivations it caused.
She wasn’t subject to any of the stupid rules created exclusively to persecute Jews.
“What if it does? If my attitude were any different, I’d already be walking dead.
Apart from breathing and working like a slave, I wouldn’t be allowed to do anything else.
That bloody little dictator has even as good as denied us food!
Does he think we can live on fresh air and love? ”
Birgit had to laugh. “You should write for the tabloids.”
“Maybe when all this is over.” For as long as she could remember, Leonore had wanted to become a journalist – a serious reporter, publishing well-researched articles on weighty topics.
In her current situation, she’d have gladly reported on Leni Riefenstahl’s latest affair in the schmaltziest terms imaginable, if only she’d been allowed to write at all.
“I’m sorry.” Birgit pulled a rueful face. “You’d better get going or you won’t make it home before curfew.”
Leonore rolled her eyes. “The curfew is only for people with a star on their coats, and mine is safely stowed in my jacket pocket.”
“Please take care. It’s bad enough that you walk around without a star, but after dark?”
“On the contrary. At that time of night, Jews aren’t allowed out on the street. So it’s not going to occur to any police patrol that I might be one.” Leonore was fond of boasting she could smell a patrol from a mile off, which was why she’d never been asked for her papers.
“It’s dangerous, all the same.” Birgit hugged her goodbye. “Take care of yourself, okay?”
“Always. See you at the weekend then?”
“You’re incorrigible.” Birgit accompanied her to the door, and Leonore went out into the almost deserted street.
The sun had set hours ago, and the blackout ensured no one was outside for no reason.
She pulled up her coat collar as a cold rain whipped her face.
Her threadbare woolen coat had seen better days, but Jews weren’t given clothing cards, so she’d have to keep on wearing it until it fell apart.
Shaking her head to dispel the gloomy thoughts, she dreamt of the potato soup waiting for her at home.
Since Jews had been forced to move into so-called “Jewish houses” more than two years ago, she had found shelter in a room she sublet from another family.
Leonore went to work early and returned late, so she had little contact with the other residents.
Besides, they were all a decade or two older than her.
With her head hunched down, she hurried through the streets.
An unremarkable white delivery van was parked near her apartment block.
The hair on the back of her neck stood on end.
She knew this kind of vehicle. They were only unremarkable to those who’d never witnessed Jews being dragged from their homes and shoved inside.
Leonore had no desire to discover first-hand what happened next.
Equally, she couldn’t stop and wait to see what would happen: she was out at night without a yellow star.
Nor did she wish to find out which of her crimes would be deemed worse: not wearing the mark of shame, or not complying with the curfew for those forced to wear it.
Wasting no time to think, she turned on her heel and walked away at a measured pace, since she absolutely couldn’t afford to attract attention.
She only paused to reconsider her options once she was two blocks away.
She couldn’t return home while the SS were there, nor could she hang around on the street – the danger of being picked up by a patrol was too high.
Her first thought was the office, but she didn’t want to put Herr Balsen in the awkward position of hiding her.
There was only one thing left she could do: go back to Birgit.
Birgit’s face dropped when she answered the door. “What happened? You’re shaking. And you’re soaking wet, too.”
Ten minutes later, having peeled off her wet coat, Leonore was sitting wrapped in a blanket on the sofa, a cup of hot tea in her hand.
“Now tell me,” Birgit urged.
“There was a white van at the entrance to our street.” Leonore blew on her tea and drank in careful sips. The warmth from the hot drink spread through her, dispelling both the cold and discomfort that had pursued her throughout the journey here.
“Did you see anything?”
Leonore shook her head, her curls bouncing with the movement. “No. I didn’t want to be picked up for loitering, so I made myself scarce.”
“Maybe it was nothing?” Birgit wrinkled her nose.
Leonore looked doubtfully at her friend. “A white, unmarked van at the entrance to a Jewish street after curfew? You’d be a fool to think that had an innocent explanation.”
The two sipped their tea in silence for a few minutes, until Leonore asked, “Can I stay with you tonight?”
“Of course. I did my laundry yesterday, so I have an extra nightgown you can wear.”
“Thank you so much. I’ll leave in the morning.” Leonore knew she could rely on her friend, but didn’t want to be a burden.
“Do you think it’s wise to return to your apartment?” Birgit asked.
“The vans will be long gone by tomorrow night.”
“What if they come back?”
Leonore frowned and thought hard. “That’s unlikely. They’ll have caught most of the people on their list and will move on to the next district.”
“What if you’re on their list and they come back for you?”
Leonore tilted her head. She knew it was a risk. “I haven’t received an inventory demand, or an evacuation summons. So I’m probably not on any list.”
Birgit shrugged helplessly. “We can only hope not.”
“Let’s go to bed.”
Leonore slipped under the blanket in her borrowed nightgown and snuggled up on the sofa.
But sleep wouldn’t come. Thoughts whirled around her head for hours.
She had pretended to be much more confident in front of Birgit than she actually felt.
Of course the SS could come back at any time.
Like all Berlin Jews, Leonore was in constant danger of being whisked away.
She took a deep breath. Tomorrow, she would leave an emergency suitcase with Birgit.