Audrey Magee - The Undertaking

The following nights, he smashed soup tureens and china clocks, irritated that he had to leave Katharina to drag snivelling children from attics and cellars. He shouted and screamed at them, struck their legs and backs with the butt of his gun, slapped them across the face when they took too long moving down the stairs, more comfortable with howls of hatred than pleas for mercy.

Katharina was always waiting for him afterwards, always warm. On the seventh day, as the sun rose, he took a wide band of wedding gold from an old woman. Later he slipped it on his wife’s finger.

‘I need you, Katharina.’

They built a routine for themselves, the young married couple; they spent mornings in bed, and afternoons in the park, always on the same bench overlooking the lake.

‘I think that we should have four children,’ he said.

‘Two boys and two girls.’

‘But no traditional names. Or family names. We’re starting everything again, Katharina. Doing it our way.’

He spent nights with Dr Weinart, moving across Berlin, while she stayed home, humming, singing, twisting the wedding band on her finger.

He folded her brother’s pyjamas and tucked them under the pillow, his back to Katharina as she pinned up her hair.

‘Do you promise me you’ll come back?’ she said.

‘Of course I will.’

‘How can I be sure?’

He pulled on his socks and boots, and went to her.

‘You stink,’ she said.

‘Your mother likes disinfectant.’

‘Leaving as you arrived.’

He kissed her.

‘I’ll be back, Katharina. Just wait for me.’

‘I’ll be here. In this room. This bed.’

They went to the kitchen and sat down to breakfast with her parents.

‘He’ll be back sooner than you think, Katharina,’ said her father. ‘There’s not long left in this.’

Mrs Spinell gave him a package of brown paper and white string.

‘It should keep you going for a bit.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Give some to Johannes if you see him.’

‘I will, Mrs Spinell. I’ll look out for him.’

The train station teemed with men in uniform. Katharina pressed against her husband.

‘You’re shivering, Peter.’

‘I hate going back there, Katharina. The noise. The smells. I hate it all.’

‘It won’t be for long, my love.’

She buried herself into his chest and wrapped her arms around him.

‘You’ll be all right, Peter.’

The younger men, the new recruits in fresh uniforms, marched around the station, singing.

‘Bloody fools,’ said Faber.

‘They’re excited, Peter.’

‘About what? Dying.’

‘It’s not that bad.’

‘You’re not there.’

‘You’re doing very well. It’ll soon be over. One last push.’

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about, Katharina.’

She stepped away from him and turned to the crowd, to the men playing cards in huddles on the ground.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to go.’

He hugged her, and held her, stroking her hair, until his unit was called.

‘It’s time,’ she said.

He kissed her.

‘I will be back. You understand that, don’t you, Katharina?’

‘Yes.’

‘You understand that no matter what happens I will come back to you.’

‘I know that, my love.’

‘I need you here for me, Katharina. I need to know you’re waiting for me.’

‘I’ll be here, Peter. I promise.’

‘I’ll be back. No matter what.’

He hugged her tightly, as though trying to absorb her.

‘You should go,’ she said. ‘Get a seat.’

The train ground its wheels into the metal track, inching forward until it gathered pace and carried him out of the station, away into the morning light. The other women left, went back to their homes and children, but Katharina lingered in the dusky anonymity of the station, warding off the moment when she would return to being a daughter. She sat on a bench, silent among the men, until the cold wind whipping at her legs made it too uncomfortable to stay. She began the walk home, but stopped at a café, remaining for as long as she could, for as long as seemed decent for a woman on her own.

Her mother hurtled towards her as she opened the door.

‘Where have you been?’

‘At the station, with Peter.’

‘But his train left hours ago. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. You’re here now. Hurry up, pack your things. We’re leaving.’

Mrs Spinell picked up a bundle of clothes from the floor.

‘What do you mean?’

‘We have to leave here. Pack. Quickly.’

‘Mother, stop. I have no idea what is going on.’

She dropped the clothes and put her hands on her daughter’s shoulders.

‘Katharina, it has finally happened.’

‘What has?’

‘The apartment. We have a new apartment! A huge one. With its own living room! And three double bedrooms!’

‘That’s marvellous. But I can’t go.’

‘What do you mean? You hate your bedroom, and the smallness of this place.’

‘I promised Peter that I would wait for him. Here.’

‘For God’s sake, write to him. Give him the new address. And Johannes too.’

‘But this was his home, our home. I’ll wait here, move into your room.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘I’m not ridiculous. I’ll live here by myself until Peter comes back.’

‘And how will you live? Pay the rent? Anyway, somebody else will be coming here.’

‘Who?’

‘Oh God, Katharina. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.’

‘It matters to me.’

‘Stop it, Katharina. Just pack. We have to move today. It’s our big chance.’

She turned her back on her mother and walked into her parents’ bedroom. The bed had been stripped. She ran back into the hall.

‘Where are the sheets? Where did you put the sheets?’

‘In the bath. I was washing them when your father came with the news.’

Katharina raced down the hall, her coat slipping from her shoulders as she fell to her knees in front of the bath. She picked at the folds of sheet that rose above the water, at the coils of black, wiry hair floating on the surface, then plunged her arms into the bath, soaking her clothes in the traces of their time together. She lifted the sheets to her face, and rubbed them across her lips, cheeks, forehead and eyes, soaking her skin with what remained of him.

Mrs Spinell walked by the bathroom door.

‘Katharina, what are you doing?’

‘Washing the sheets.’

‘Oh, leave them. The Jews have much better sheets than those.’

Katharina dropped her hands and arms back into the water.

‘You’re soaked, Katharina. You’ll catch cold. Just leave them.’

‘I’m taking them.’

‘Do as you please. But we have to leave today. Before somebody else gets it.’

‘So you keep saying.’

She rinsed the sheets in cold, clean water, squeezed and folded them, and left them on the side of the bath. She went to find her father, who was packing Johannes’ medals and trophies.

‘So you’ve heard the news,’ he said.

‘How did it happen?’

‘Dr Weinart organized it. It’s on the other side of the city, on the second floor and very big, with lots of furniture to dust. It should keep your mother happy.’

Katharina tapped her toe against the door into her brother’s room.

‘He got away, then?’

‘Yes.’

‘He’ll be back. Sooner than you think.’

‘I hope so,’ she said.

‘He’s a good young man. There’ll be space in the apartment for him until we find you somewhere of your own.’

‘I’d rather stay here, to wait for him.’

‘It’s not practical, Katharina. They wouldn’t let me keep two apartments. Anyway, you’ll change your mind when you see this place.’