Audrey Magee - The Undertaking

‘It belongs to Johannes, Mr Faber, but you can use it.’

The two women, without talking, set to work.

‘Have you been to Berlin before, Mr Faber?’ asked Mr Spinell.

‘No.’

‘Katharina will show you the city later.’

Mrs Spinell poured coffee and Katharina slid a slice of cake onto his plate.

‘It’s lemon.’

‘Thank you.’

He lifted the coffee to his nose, put it down and took up the cake. He let out a little sigh. They laughed.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s been a long time.’

‘Go ahead,’ said Mrs Spinell. ‘Eat.’

He slipped the sponge into his mouth and chased it with the coffee, a rush of sweet and bitter. He did it again. They laughed again.

‘It’s so good, Mrs Spinell.’

‘It’s real coffee,’ said Mr Spinell. ‘From Dr Weinart, a friend of mine.’

‘And a neighbour gave us the eggs for the cake,’ said Mrs Spinell. ‘As a wedding present.’

‘She’s a communist,’ said Mr Spinell.

‘Mrs Sachs is a good person, Günther.’

‘That’s how they disguise themselves, Esther. That neighbourly sharing.’

Katharina sipped at her coffee, but nudged her cake towards Faber.

‘You have it. You want it more than I do.’

He ate her cake and a third slice, then sat back into his chair and lit another cigarette.

‘What do you teach, Mr Faber?’

‘Elementary, Mrs Spinell.’

‘Do you have a job?’

‘Yes. At the school I attended as a boy.’

‘Are they keeping it for you?’

‘Yes.’

‘But a teacher’s salary is not much,’ said Mrs Spinell. ‘Can you provide properly for my daughter?’

He felt their eyes on him. And then her father sniggered.

‘Katharina’s mother worries a lot,’ he said.

‘I am only trying to protect our daughter, Günther,’ she said. ‘To save her from what I had to go through at the end of the last war.’

‘Not now, Esther,’ said Mr Spinell.

‘Yes now. I had to scavenge for food, Mr Faber, rummage through bins to stop my children crying from hunger. Johannes howled and howled. He’s still hungry, I’m sure of it.’

‘Johannes is fine, Mother.’

‘You don’t understand, Katharina. And won’t until it’s your children suffering at the end of this war.’

‘It’ll be different this time, Esther,’ said Mr Spinell. ‘Everyone is afraid of us now. Victory will be swift.’

‘But he’ll still only be a teacher,’ said Mrs Spinell.

The sweating walls, hard chair and chipped crockery suddenly irritated Faber. He sat forward.

‘My father has been a teacher all his life, and has provided perfectly well for us,’ he said.

‘But will that be enough?’

‘It has been enough for my mother.’

‘Is she a modest woman?’

‘She is like any other woman, Mrs Spinell, who has dedicated her life to her husband and children.’

‘You can expect the same of Katharina,’ said Mr Spinell. ‘She will make a fine wife. And a fine mother.’

‘To be that she needs a husband with a good job, Günther.’

‘Teaching in our new world will be a very respected profession, Esther. Now, young man, tell us about the front. About Kiev.’

Faber lit a third cigarette, dragging the smoke deep into his lungs, silently absorbing its kick before slowly, evenly, releasing it into the room. He flicked the ash and cleared his throat.

‘The Russians are tenacious, Mr Spinell, but useless against our modern weaponry.’

‘It will all be ours by Christmas,’ said Mr Spinell. ‘Only three hundred kilometres from Moscow – we are invincible.’

‘We are doing well.’

‘I am very proud of you, and of all German soldiers,’ said Mr Spinell.

Faber inhaled again and nodded his head as he blew smoke towards the ceiling.

‘Thank you, Mr Spinell.’

‘When this war is over, we will have enough space, food, water and oil to last for centuries. You and my daughter can take all the land you need.’

‘Will we do that?’ said Katharina.

‘What?’

‘Take land? Move to the east and set up home there?’

He stared at her. He was sweating, even though the weather was cool.

‘Russia is poor, filthy and full of peasants living in houses made of mud. I’m here because I can’t stand the place.’

‘They will work for you,’ said Mr Spinell. ‘You can tear down their huts, clean up the landscape and build a beautiful German house. Imagine, your own farm.’

‘I know nothing about farming.’

‘There will be training. After the war, young men will be taught how to become farmers, how to grow food for Germany.’

‘I am happy to serve my country, but once the war is over I will return to Darmstadt to resume my life as a teacher.’

‘You could do other things. Earn more money.’

‘I like being a teacher.’

‘You seem such a capable man.’

‘I am a capable teacher.’

‘But there are so many other things to do, especially in Berlin. You can always teach when you are older, after you have made your money.’

Faber ground his cigarette into the ashtray and looked slowly around the room.

‘As you have done, Mr Spinell.’

Katharina began to clear the dishes.

‘Let me show you the city,’ she said. ‘Before it’s too dark.’

‘My fortunes are about to change, Mr Faber. And yours could too.’

‘I am happy with my life, Mr Spinell.’

‘Let me introduce you to Dr Weinart. He is a man of great integrity and connections.’

Faber stood.

‘I’ll think about it.’

He picked up his rifle.

‘You should leave that here,’ said Katharina.

‘I prefer to have it with me.’

‘It’s better left at home. We’re going to the park.’

‘I’ll take it with me.’

He moved towards the door.

‘You could at least wait for me,’ she said. ‘I have to get my coat.’

He left without her, going down the stairs and onto the street where the grocer was dismantling the stall at the front of his shop. The two men nodded at each other. Faber bounced up and down on his toes and rubbed at the sleeves of his tunic, buffeting his arms against the chilling wind. Katharina arrived on the doorstep, buttoning a coat too short for her skirt.

‘Should I go back to fetch you my brother’s coat?’

‘I’ll be fine.’

‘You look cold.’

‘I said I’d be fine.’

She walked past him, away into a city he did not know.

‘Where are we going, Katharina?’

‘To the park. The lake.’

‘You could at least wait for me.’

‘Why? You didn’t bother waiting for me.’

He stopped, a slight curve in his shoulders.

‘I’m sorry. I just needed to get away.’

‘My parents have that effect.’

‘It was intense. More than I had expected.’

‘It always is.’

‘How do you manage?’

‘Years of practice. They mean well. And they like you.’

‘Your mother hates me.’

‘She doesn’t. She just wants the best for me.’

‘And I’m not good enough?’

‘I’m her only daughter.’

‘And she thought you could do better than a teacher.’

‘Something like that.’

‘What was she hoping for? A doctor? A lawyer? They don’t marry bank clerks.’

‘I don’t suppose they do, Mr Faber.’

She walked ahead of him again. He caught up with her.

‘I’m sorry, Katharina.’

‘The bureau gave us details about you and four other men, including a doctor’s fat son.’

‘And your mother wanted him?’

‘Exactly.’

Faber laughed.

‘And instead she got a useless lanky schoolteacher.’

‘So it seems.’