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There was no sound from the piano upstairs; Joachim was having his lesson later today. Her mother was sitting at the kitchen table. When Carla walked in, Maud beamed and said: "Look who's here!"
It was Erik.
Carla stared at him. He was painfully thin, but apparently uninjured. His uniform was grimy and ripped, but he had washed his face and hands. He stood up and put his arms around her.
She hugged him hard, careless of dirtying her spotless uniform. "You're safe," she said. There was so little flesh on him that she could feel his bones, his ribs and hips and shoulders and spine, through the thin material.
"Safe for the moment," he said.
She released her hold. "How are you?"
"Better than most."
"You weren't wearing this flimsy uniform in the Russian winter?"
"I stole a coat from a dead Russian."
She sat down at the table. Ada was there too. Erik said: "You were right. About the Nazis, I mean. You were right."
She was pleased, but not sure exactly what he meant. "In what way?"
"They murder people. You told me that. Father told me, too, and Mother. I'm sorry I didn't believe you. I'm sorry, Ada, that I didn't believe they killed your poor little Kurt. I know better now."
This was a big reversal. Carla said: "What changed your mind?"
"I saw them doing it, in Russia. They round up all the important people in town, because they must be Communists. And they get the Jews, too. Not just men, but women and children. And old people too frail to do anyone any harm." Tears were streaming down his face now. "Our regular soldiers don't do it--there are special groups. They take the prisoners out of town. Sometimes there's a quarry, or some other kind of pit. Or they make the younger ones dig a great hole. Then . . ."
He choked up, but Carla had to hear him say it. "Then what?"
"They do them twelve at a time. Six pairs. Sometimes the husbands and wives hold hands as they walk down the slope. The mothers carry the babies. The riflemen wait until the prisoners are in the right spot. Then they shoot." Erik wiped his tears with his dirty uniform sleeve. "Bang," he said.
There was a long silence in the kitchen. Ada was crying. Carla was aghast. Only Maud was stony-faced.
Eventually Erik blew his nose, then took out cigarettes. "I was surprised to get leave and a ticket home," he said.
Carla said: "When do you have to go back?"
"Tomorrow. I have only twenty-four hours here. All the same I'm the envy of all my comrades. They'd give anything for a day at home. Dr. Weiss said I must have friends in high places."
"You do," said Maud. "Joachim Koch, a young lieutenant who works a
t the War Ministry and comes to me for piano lessons. I asked him to arrange leave for you." She glanced at her watch. "He'll be here in a few minutes. He has grown fond of me--he's in need of a mother figure, I think."
Mother, hell, Carla thought. There was nothing maternal about Maud's relationship with Joachim.
Maud went on: "He's very innocent. He told us there's going to be a new offensive on the eastern front starting on the twenty-eighth of June. He even mentioned the code name: Case Blue."
Erik said: "He's going to get himself shot."
Carla said: "Joachim is not the only one who might be shot. I told someone what I learned. Now I've been asked to persuade Joachim, somehow, to get me the battle plan."
"Good God!" Erik was rocked. "This is serious espionage--you're in more danger than I am on the eastern front!"
"Don't worry, I can't imagine Joachim would do it," Carla said.
"Don't be so sure," said Maud.
They all looked at her.
