Walter Kempowski - All for Nothing

He took a booklet off the shelf. Its title was What We Have Lost, and there was a picture of Strasbourg Cathedral on the cover. An inscription to Katharina ran, ‘Never forget.’ And the writer had added, ‘All for nothing.’

Katharina was standing by the doorpost. Drygalski avoided her eyes. He looked at all that tobacco and chocolate, at everything he had brought out of the cubbyhole. Delicacies that she had been giving to the Jew. He would have to take those luxury goods and give them to the old and infirm, that was obvious. He’d been meaning for some time to go to the monastery and make sure all was well there.

He switched on the radio. The BBC? No, all you could hear was the time signal of the German Shipping Forecast, followed by the Wehrmacht report, read slowly enough to be written down for the benefit of those who couldn’t follow the broadcast easily.

There was no more to be found here. They all turned round and went down to the hall together. Herr Hesse withdrew to his room, saying it was high time for him to take his drops.

Going downstairs, the police detective held Katharina’s elbow gently in two fingers, but he stayed beside her. ‘How could you do such a thing, Frau von Globig … sheltering a Jew?’ he whispered to her. ‘Did your husband know? A Jew!’ Her husband in Italy would have to be questioned; a telex had already been sent. He would surely be interested to know that the man had been wearing a tennis pullover of his; they had worked that out from the monogram EvG. He would certainly think this or that about it. This or that? What actually had been going on here?

It was possible that she might be confronted with the pastor; they’d already had to lock him up.

‘Helping a Jew … what a thing to do, what made you take it into your head? If it had been an ordinary criminal …’

‘It was only one night,’ said Katharina.

Her door on the first floor was wide open now.

The police officer looked round the hall again for a while, examined the contents of the little cabinet — and all the letters in it that would have to be read. The ornamental cups, the wire frame with the photo of the Tsarist officer … all very strange. The landed gentry lived in a world of their own.

Peter had not gone upstairs with the others. He could hear what was going on anyway. He stood by the billiards table, rolling balls against the cushion.

The hunting trophies, horns and antlers lined up side by side, the stuffed wild boar’s head, all dating from the time of old Herr von Globig.

Katharina took off her locket and placed it in the dish on the fireside table. She put on her coat and the white Persian lamb cap. With her arms round Peter, she looked gravely at him. Was it going to take long?

‘Will she be back soon?’ Auntie asked the police officer, speaking as if Katharina had already left.

Jago the dog snapped at the officer’s hand.

‘Get away,’ he said, wiping his hand.

The foreign workers were standing on the terrace of the Forest Lodge. The Czech in his leather cap, the Italian with his Badoglio hat, the Romanian with toothache. They were smiling. Did these people take pleasure in the misfortunes of others? They looked behind them and called to their friends to come out; there was something worth seeing here.

When Katharina was already in the car, Auntie came running after her, saying, ‘The key, Katharina! You won’t be needing it any more now.’

At the last minute, Vera gave her some bread and sausage. She knew what it was like to be taken away and not have so much as a bit of bread with you.

The car drove off, and the ancestors in the hall stared after it.

The Hesse family clustered round Drygalski. If only they’d left long ago. They asked the head trustee whether they would be able to leave tomorrow.

‘Why not?’ said Drygalski. ‘What are you waiting for?’

‘But won’t we have to be questioned?’ asked the teacher. Since he had not done anything wrong, he would have liked to be questioned. ‘And the official permit? Has the official permit arrived?’

‘I wish we hadn’t come here,’ said his wife. But it had been the doing of a higher power. Drygalski himself had told them to move in.

‘I’ll tell you something,’ said Drygalski, who was still searching cupboards, ‘it will be best for you to go out into the road at once and get away from here. At once, do you hear me? At once.’

Then he himself left, to go and tell his wife the news of this extraordinary incident.

That day his wife was wearing a white blouse, and the brooch that her husband had given her in Braunlage. She had heated the stove well, and there was good soup in the old style on the table. He could give her a bar of chocolate now, but he didn’t; he ate it himself.

She was astonished by the news, and praised her husband. But — Frau von Globig arrested? And she said, very loud and clear, ‘Poor woman, she didn’t deserve that!’ Then Drygalski slammed the door.

Meanwhile horse-drawn carts were driving into the yard of the Georgenhof. The leader of their trek held a permit under Auntie’s nose saying that they could stay the night there.

Women and children jumped down from the carts and streamed into the house, asking whether there was somewhere they could wash. Grave-faced men negotiated with Vladimir over grease for the axles of their carts.

The horses were taken out of the shafts and put in the big barn, breathing heavily. The cows being led behind the carts on halters got under cover too. Pedigree cattle of the finest breeds! They were bleeding around their hooves. The teacher’s wife mixed water and vinegar, ointment and other ingredients in a bucket and washed their feet.

Peter was standing in the hall. His mother’s white fur cap. So a strange man had been staying with his mother. He’d never have expected her to do anything like that.

He felt a little proud of her for doing it.

He met the Pole in the stables. Did the man put a hand on his shoulder, draw him close for comfort? No, he shook his head.

The two Ukrainian maids told the people who had come to stay the night what had happened here. Sonya said she wouldn’t have thought the lady of the house could be so brave. But fancy running such risks for a lousy Jew. The women cried, and kept telling stories of all the things that had happened to them. It was a long time since they’d had chocolate to eat.

‘We’ll leave in the night,’ said Vladimir. He was talking to Vera.

There was rumbling and pounding beyond the red horizon, and now and then louder music struck up.

See, good sirs, the watchman’s light.

The hour of twelve has struck tonight.

May you and your fraternity,

Good sirs, think of eternity.

At midnight Auntie said, ‘Let’s be off.’ She looked at her wristwatch, as one does on New Year’s Eve.

Should they wait for Katharina to come back? Who knew when that might be? Sarkander had said it could take a long time. ‘A very long time. You needn’t wait for her, you’d better leave at once. We’ll look after her if she comes back again.’

Frau Hesse also advised them to leave, saying that if they could, they would go themselves — but four of them, and still no travel permit?

She too said, ‘If Frau von Globig turns up we’ll look after her.’

Auntie had phoned Uncle Josef, and he had said, ‘Yes, that’s fine, all of you come here. We have plenty of room. We’re not leaving, we’re all staying here. We’ll be glad to see you; families should stick together in these times.’

No further mention was made of Katharina’s fate. Uncle Josef had heard from other sources that she was under arrest in Mitkau. There was no need to discuss these things on the telephone. However, he said, ‘Poor Kathi,’ although he had always had reservations about her. Poor Eberhard, more like. ‘Well, you come to Albertsdorf and rest for a bit. You can find out more news of her from here.’