told to read under the covers on the couch. Irena now allowed me to touch her between the legs; sometimes, she put her legs around my waist and rubbed until her squaw face turned red. We talked about what the Germans would do when they took us away. We did not want to be beaten; Bern had told methat they always beat people before killing them or else they let the Polish police do it for them. They even beat the women they were taking to brothels. A good way out was to insult a German: for instance, spit in an officer’s face. Then he would shoot you on the spot. We were not sure that we would get an opportunity to do that. In the roundups, the Germans usually stood off at the side while the others did the work. One could also take poison, but we didn’t have any. I knew that Tania was trying to get some for us, but that was a secret. I didn’t tell Irena.
Tania was spending very few nights at home now. She would drop in unexpectedly, around midday. They would give her permission to leave the office to see her sick mother. She told us that Erika, Reinhard’s daughter, had arrived. She was eighteen, very nice but badly dressed, like a real German. Reinhard got the second apartment; it had belonged to Jews. They were fixing it in the evening, after Tania’s office closed. She said that every time Reinhard brought china or crystal for the apartment she had to laugh inside; she was wondering if it would turn out to be our own. Reinhard and she had to be very careful not to let their friendship be noticed. Nobody minded if he simply protected her, her work was so good; but having an affair with a Jewish woman was punished by death.
Late one afternoon Tania arrived pale and out of breath. Grandmother and I were sitting in the kitchen with the Kramers. Tania had no food with her, she was not taking off her coat and she did not sit down. She just stood there, staring at my grandmother and looking uncomfortable. Ithought that perhaps something had happened to grandfather and asked if she could come with me to our room; I wanted to show her something. She followed me, quickly closed the door behind us, said I was at last becoming intelligent, and sent me back to the kitchen to get grandmother. As soon as we were together, she told us in whispers that the next morning, before dawn, all Jews in T. would be taken away. Reinhard had just found out; we were to keep this to ourselves or we would all be dead. She would go back to the kitchen in a moment, act as normal as she could, and then say good-night and leave for the office. We must remain very quiet, no packing, just take grandmother’s jewelry, her fur coat and my warm coat, and be downstairs at the entranceway at eight sharp, like the evening grandfather left. Reinhard would come for us; she would try to be with him. Then she kissed us, said not to be afraid and was gone.
We ate a silent supper with the Kramers. Grandmother complained that she was feeling her liver again. She would lie down in her room and rest. She wanted me with her; I could play with Irena another time. Once out of the kitchen, we got our things together. Grandmother turned out the light. A few minutes before eight, we went through the corridor of the apartment—my grandmother saying, Help me, please, to the toilets—and then, as quickly as she could manage it, we stumbled in the dark along the balcony and down to the gate. The car was there, with Tania.
Reinhard’s apartment was on the ground floor in a building less than a kilometer away. The curtains weretightly drawn; all the lights were on. I had become unaccustomed to so much light; our electricity was always being cut. In the dining room, there was a chandelier, and the sideboard and various little tables were crowded with porcelain figurines and lamps of various sizes with tassels hanging from their shades. For the first time, I could take a good look at Reinhard. He was bald. I had expected his sleeve to be empty, but he seemed to have two
Tania was spending very few nights at home now. She would drop in unexpectedly, around midday. They would give her permission to leave the office to see her sick mother. She told us that Erika, Reinhard’s daughter, had arrived. She was eighteen, very nice but badly dressed, like a real German. Reinhard got the second apartment; it had belonged to Jews. They were fixing it in the evening, after Tania’s office closed. She said that every time Reinhard brought china or crystal for the apartment she had to laugh inside; she was wondering if it would turn out to be our own. Reinhard and she had to be very careful not to let their friendship be noticed. Nobody minded if he simply protected her, her work was so good; but having an affair with a Jewish woman was punished by death.
Late one afternoon Tania arrived pale and out of breath. Grandmother and I were sitting in the kitchen with the Kramers. Tania had no food with her, she was not taking off her coat and she did not sit down. She just stood there, staring at my grandmother and looking uncomfortable. Ithought that perhaps something had happened to grandfather and asked if she could come with me to our room; I wanted to show her something. She followed me, quickly closed the door behind us, said I was at last becoming intelligent, and sent me back to the kitchen to get grandmother. As soon as we were together, she told us in whispers that the next morning, before dawn, all Jews in T. would be taken away. Reinhard had just found out; we were to keep this to ourselves or we would all be dead. She would go back to the kitchen in a moment, act as normal as she could, and then say good-night and leave for the office. We must remain very quiet, no packing, just take grandmother’s jewelry, her fur coat and my warm coat, and be downstairs at the entranceway at eight sharp, like the evening grandfather left. Reinhard would come for us; she would try to be with him. Then she kissed us, said not to be afraid and was gone.
We ate a silent supper with the Kramers. Grandmother complained that she was feeling her liver again. She would lie down in her room and rest. She wanted me with her; I could play with Irena another time. Once out of the kitchen, we got our things together. Grandmother turned out the light. A few minutes before eight, we went through the corridor of the apartment—my grandmother saying, Help me, please, to the toilets—and then, as quickly as she could manage it, we stumbled in the dark along the balcony and down to the gate. The car was there, with Tania.
Reinhard’s apartment was on the ground floor in a building less than a kilometer away. The curtains weretightly drawn; all the lights were on. I had become unaccustomed to so much light; our electricity was always being cut. In the dining room, there was a chandelier, and the sideboard and various little tables were crowded with porcelain figurines and lamps of various sizes with tassels hanging from their shades. For the first time, I could take a good look at Reinhard. He was bald. I had expected his sleeve to be empty, but he seemed to have two
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