Pierre Frei - Berlin - A Novel

'You're the nicest man I know.'

He cleared his throat, embarrassed. A lady I know keeps a boarding house in Charlottenburg. I'll give you a note to take her. What are you planning to do?'

'Be an usherette, I hope.' She laughed. 'I always wanted to be something in the movies.'

The Pension Wolke was in Windscheidstrasse, on the first floor of an apartment building, and looked neat and tidy. In addition, it was a good base for job-seeking at the cinemas of western Berlin.

Frau Wolke introduced Marlene to the other lodgers, beginning with the girl in the room next to hers, who was about her own age and another blonde. Otherwise they were different in almost every way. Henriette von Aichborn wore simple, practical clothes and not a trace of make-up, and had a friendly if slightly distant way of addressing people.

Not like a posh aristocrat with a von in her name at all. Marlene soon took to her. 'Like to come to the pictures?' she asked. 'I'm thinking of applying for an usherette's job at the UfA Palace, and I'd like to see the new film with Willy Fritsch.'

'That's very kind of you, but I'm expecting a visitor.'

'If you'd make do with me…?' Herr Kohler adjusted his monocle. He had the room across the passage, and Marlene did not care for his manner. She was a good judge of men.

'No, thank you,' she politely turned him down.

On Monday she applied to the Marmor Haus cinema and the UfA Film Theatre, on Tuesday to the Astor and the Kurbel. No one needed an usherette. She considered her situation over a cup of coffee on the terrace of the Cafe Schilling. Perhaps it would be better to leave Berlin. Even if Fredie wasn't looking for her, she might still run into him. Involuntarily, she turned round. There was only an old gentleman reading the paper behind her.

She postponed her decision. Berlin was still Berlin, everywhere else was the provinces. But the real reason for her hesitation was called Franz Giese. Better a modest future than none, she thought. And Frau Giese doesn't sound so bad. She pushed aside the thought of facing Fredie and asking him for a divorce. 'It will all work out,' she comforted herself.

She had seen a pair of white sandals that she couldn't resist in the window of the Salamander show store. That evening she lay on her bed in her dressing gown, painting her toenails. She had cotton wool between her toes. 'Come in,' she called cheerfully, when someone knocked.

It was Fraulein von Aichborn. 'I hope I'm not disturbing you?' She looked at Marlene's artwork with interest. Obviously she hadn't seen it done before.

'Looks good with bare legs. Bright red is just the thing for blondes. Like to try?'

Another time I'd love to.' Her fellow lodger came straight to the point. A friend of mine has invited me to spend the weekend on the Havel in his motorboat. I'd like to take a friend along to play gooseberry. Would you care to come?'

Marlene Kaschke was absolutely delighted. A motorboat on the Havel? You bet I'll come. And I've just bought a fabulous sky-blue Bleyle too! The latest style, with a little skirt and a low-cut back. You can get them in all colours at Leineweber's.'

'Your name is Marion, if you don't mind, and you're an old friend of mine. You must call me Detta.'

'If that's all, you're welcome.'

'See you Saturday, then. I'll get my convertible out of the garage, and knock on your door at seven-thirty.'

'Us two lovelies in an open car? This gets better and better.' Marlene went on painting her nails.

She tried further afield on Friday. There were some cinemas in Steglitz and Zehlendorf. The Onkel Tom cinema was last on her list. 'One of our girls got married. We're looking for a replacement; the manager told her. 'But it's Herr Star, the owner, who makes the decisions. Come back on Monday.' He let her watch the documentary, the newsreel and a film with Hans Albers for free. On the way home she bought some fruit and took a couple of magazines up to her room with her. Her landlady knocked on her door at around nine. 'Visitor for you, Fraulein Kaschke.'

It was Fredie. 'I'll help you pack,' he offered with a winning smile. 'Thank you very much, Frau Wolke.' He closed the door.

Marlene tried to stay calm. 'How did you get here?'

'I found the note with your Herr Giese's address under the table. Rather incautious of you, my love. Herr Giese was not very forthcoming at first and wouldn't tell me where to find you. He was more talkative down in the chat room. Hurry up, will you?'

'I'm not coming with you. Even if you kill me.'

'Who said anything about killing you? I need a wife who is alive, and plays her part willingly and convincingly. My career depends on it.'

'I couldn't care less about your career.'

'Or your Herr Giese either?'

'What's going to happen to Franz?'

'Very soon nothing will ever happen to him again, if you don't play along. We've taken him in. As I said before, he was willing to give us the information after a while.'

'Where is he?'

'In Prinz-Albrecht-Strasse. Want to see him?' She nodded in silence. He closed her suitcase. Down below, a black limousine was waiting with an SS man at the wheel and a man in a leather coat in the front beside him. Fredie helped her into the car and put the suitcase in.

She saw Franz Giese through a peephole in the cellar door. Her heart constricted. They had tied him to a post. His shirt was in tatters, his face disfigured by blows. The SS man in front of him raised a hissing blowtorch.

'Franz…' Her voice was toneless.

'That Socialist would confess to being Stalin's father-in-law if we wanted. They all talk in the chat room. So how about it?'

'Let him go. I'll stay with you.'

'Very sensible, my dear.' Fredie opened the door a crack and called, 'Take him home. The case is closed.' The SS man untied Giese and helped him into his jacket.

On the way home Fredie was kindness itself. 'I've put champagne on ice. And we have a few delicate little canapes to go with it. I'm so glad you're coming back to me.' It was grotesque.

'So what are we celebrating?' she asked without interest.

'I'll tell you when we get home.'

Three-quarters of an hour later they had reached the Kleiner Wannsee. The men saluted. 'Good evening, ma'am. Heil Hitler, Herr Obersturm- bannfiihrer.'

'Do I congratulate you on yet another promotion?'

Fredie poured champagne. Among other things. Cheers.' Elated, he raised his glass. 'They've appointed Noack head of the Berlin Gestapo. He's shown himself grateful for certain operations I've carried out for him. I'm being made commandant of Blumenau. Orders from on high: the commandant must be happily married.'

'Happily married,' she repeated, remembering Franz Giese's clumsy declaration of love. She would never see him again, and then they would leave him in peace. His injured face would heal. It would smile for another woman some day. The haulage business would flourish. There'd be children. 'Back to the same old round,' she said sadly.

'What do you mean?'

'I mean I'll go along with you. You'll be satisfied. And if anything should happen to Franz Giese I'll make such a shocking scandal that your career will be ruined.'

'You know something? I actually believe you.'

Marlene sipped from her glass. 'Blumenau, did you say? Never heard of it.'

The Mercedes drove through the tall gates. Bronze swastikas were worked into the wrought-iron grille of the gate, and beds of begonias in lines that could have been drawn with a ruler bordered the drive. They drew up on the white gravel outside the house, which had a red, twin-gabled roof and welcoming green shutters. Over the door, picked out in marguerite daisies, were the words: WELCOME TO BLUMENAU.

Fredie helped Marlene out of the car. He was wearing his new dove-grey uniform with the insignia of an SS Security Service Obersturmbannfiihrer. A girl in a striped dress and apron was waiting on the steps, holding a bunch of tulips. She had spiky black hair and kept her eyes lowered.