*
I did not mean to slam closed the door of the apartment. Etta, alarmed, staring at me from the sink as I stood with the door braced at my back.
‘Ernst? Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine.’ I went to the window, threw my hat and coat to the chair.
‘You are home early? Was there a problem at the camp?’
‘No. No problem.’ I looked through the net curtain. The black car still there. ‘But I missed the cafeteria lunch.’
‘That is why you look so pale. I will make a sandwich. What are you looking at?’
The car sat there. No blue smoke from the back. Just sat there. Its flat roof looking up at me.
‘Frau Klein. Landlady patrol again. I had to run in. She was hovering around the door.’ This was partly true. Frau Klein had seen the captain open the car door for me from her ground-floor window. He bowed to me as I passed back his cap.
A slam of a plate, the yell of my name like my mother’s scold.
‘Ernst!’
I spun from the window, sure a rat had run out of a cupboard.
‘Why in hell … why are you wearing that pin?’
I went back to the window. My eye up the street to the Anger, down to the station corner.
The car gone.
I rapped on Klein’s office door. The polite two-tone tap. A congenial pat-pat.
He called me in, sat behind his desk with pen and journal.
‘Good morning, Ernst. You have my notes?’
‘Yes, sir.’ I put the pad to his desk. Eight-thirty and I was already in my white-coat. I think he approved.
‘Sander will bring to your floor some plans for today. I will be chained to my desk, on administration for my labours. Prüfer is back from Auschwitz so we must all jump.’
‘It will be good to see Herr Prüfer again. If I get the chance, sir.’
‘I doubt it.’ He closed his pen. ‘He is in such a mood when he returns.’ He saw that I was waiting. ‘Is there anything else, Ernst?’
I brought out the pin.
‘I return this, sir.’ I placed it on his journal. ‘But I may have created a problem.’
The pin was gone, to his hand, to a drawer.
‘Explain.’
‘Captain Schwarz asked me when I had joined the Party. I did not want to lie … but I fear I have. I did not want to cause you any difficulty.’
‘Ah. I see. No. It is my fault. I did not think on it. A natural question. But it is fine that you concerned yourself, Ernst. About me. But do not worry. I have been a Party member since ’38. Schwarz knows this.’
‘But I thought … You said you were not a member? The pin just for impression?’
He went back into his chair.
‘No. I said I was not political. The badge is useful. Being in the Party is useful. I thought it would help you to wear it.’
‘But I have lied to him?’
‘I appreciate your concern. But do not think, Ernst, that SS captains spend their days trawling over paperwork checking up on junior members of staff of a factory. I should hope he is far too busy. As am I.’ He opened his pen.
‘I thought to let you know. He did ask. And I did lie. To an SS officer.’
‘I thank you for that. Your motives were for me and the company. Very good, Ernst. I am sorry you were inconvenienced. Please forgive me. I acted in your interest.’
‘I will not get into trouble?’ I changed my angle on that. ‘I would not wish to embarrass the company.’
‘No. You are right to tell me. If Schwarz should call I can explain.’
Call. If Schwarz should call.
‘I told him that I only joined at my wife’s insistence. That I was not active.’
‘So you are being too concerned. Get to your desk, Ernst. Do not worry. I can control my own department. Thank you for your help yesterday.’ His pen to his journal.
I bowed and left. Sweat in my palms.
*
Yesterday, explaining the badge to Etta, had not gone well. I tried to pass it off. As nothing. A small thing.
‘Herr Klein gave it to me.’ I plucked the pin from my jacket, pocketed it. ‘To make a good impression in the camp. For appearances sake. It is nothing.’ I moved away from the window.
‘It is something. You wore that in the street?’
‘No. I came from the car and straight in.’
‘Car?’
I needed a cigarette. The papers and tobacco pause enough.
‘Herr Klein gave me a lift. He was going to the Anger. For shopping.’ Only half a lie.
Etta enraged as she lit the hob for the kettle.
‘He should have taken back his badge.’
‘I’ll give it to him tomorrow.’ I switched on the light. ‘Do we have money for the meter?’
‘Don’t do that. Don’t change the subject. If you want to join the Party to get on that is up to you.’
‘What difference does it make? A party is a party.’ I lit my cigarette, resumed my position by the window. To deposit my ash. To watch the street. As usual. Trying not to look up and down the road. ‘It does not mean anything any more.’
‘It means you are old-fashioned. That you belong in lederhosen. That you are an old man shouting at the dark. I am sure your father would approve.’
I left the window. ‘Would it change your opinion of me?’
She pulled cups and tea from the cupboard. Her face away from me. ‘It is your choice. If you want.’
Not the words she wanted to say. Not in their tone.
‘I didn’t think we were political,’ I said. The same tone.
‘Our country is at war, Ernst. Everyone is political. Even this damned tea has a swastika on the box. Why should my husband wear it less? Who am I to object?’ Slammed the tea back to the cupboard. ‘Now. Do you want to tell me about the camp?’
I waited for the whistling kettle. It would be easier to talk on my day over tea.
I went to my board, the last one on the right, the others smiling or ignoring me as I passed. I was the only one who did not wear glasses, the only young blond man. Everyone else with black slicked hair and thin moustaches. The old men that Klein had said he did not trust. These men had unions once.
We did not have stools, we stood all day, and that would take getting used to but no matter yet. Today was Tuesday and since Thursday last I had maybe only spent three hours at my desk. I stared at the blank white paper of my board, checked the wheel of the ISIS by moving it from corner to corner.
‘Those