Leaving the store he couldn’t help thinking about the new age, even if everything on Eigelstein looked the same. If someone like Ede, a small-time crook who’d seen it all before, could be so afraid of being reported, then things really were starting to change.
57
The euphoria that washed over her after alighting from the tram on Kaiserallee soon gave way to a crushing sense of disillusion, which was still there days later.
Yes, she had escaped Huckebein, but been forced to break with Fritze at the same time. She had often considered ditching him, but now, having finally succeeded, she missed him every moment he was gone. It wasn’t just because his absence made it harder to find a place to sleep. Never before had she felt so alone.
She had seen him on one further occasion, at Görlitzer Bahnhof, but he didn’t recognise her in the new coat she had acquired the same day she’d given Huckebein the slip. Watching from behind a pillar it pained her to see him begging again. She felt something like longing, and would have liked nothing more than to run to him, poke him in the ribs and revel in his dopey face. But she couldn’t. There was a chance Huckebein had seen them together, and was using Fritze as bait.
In the meantime she could manage on her own. She had learned that stealing was preferable to begging, and had stopped going to the Märchenbrunnen after the incident at Bahnhof Zoo. No one would show up there now anyway, it was more of a summer haunt. The thing was, she didn’t have a clue where the posse met in winter. If, that is, the posse still existed.
She had made for Neukölln, which seemed like the safest place, being far removed from Dalldorf and its warders, and equally far from Bahnhof Zoo. By now she was familiar with the area’s bars, cafes and shelters, knew where you could scrounge and where you couldn’t, and at Karstadt on Hermannplatz had even managed to filch an enormous cured sausage, which she had been nibbling at for days. If it wasn’t so damn cold, you could almost call if a life.
Nights she spent in an old, abandoned cinema. It wasn’t heated, but it did provide shelter from the wind and the rain, and in the old, dusty film organ she had found a cosy spot between the pipes where she felt safe. From here she could survey the whole theatre without being seen herself.
The dive bar she had stopped by this morning was one of the few places she could wash, even if the basin was out in the yard and it was all she could do not to cry out when the cold water touched her skin. She washed her face and neck and hands, no more, and, face-reddened by the cold, returned to the warmth of the public bar. Blinking against the cigarette smoke, to her surprise she recognised a familiar face. A member of the Märchenbrunnen posse stood at the counter. She went over.
‘Felix? Remember me?’ The youth, perhaps eighteen or nineteen, was warming his hands on a cup of weak coffee. He looked at her uncertainly. ‘Hannah,’ she prompted. ‘From Bülowplatz. We used to meet at the Märchenbrunnen.’
His eyes lit up. ‘That’s right,’ he said, and smiled. ‘Little Hannah! What happened to you? All of a sudden you stopped coming by…’
She knew she couldn’t say what had really happened, not even to someone like Felix. They stood in silence for a time. Felix had been quiet back then, too, Fanny and Kotze had done most of the talking. Kotze, whose real name was Josef Koczian, had been the group’s leader. ‘I’ve been in town for a week,’ she said. ‘No one showed at the Märchenbrunnen.’
‘Not in winter. Anyway, those days are gone.’
‘Where are Fanny and Kotze?’
‘Doing their best to get by.’
‘You don’t see each other?’
He looked her up and down. ‘Coffee? You look like you could use one.’
It felt good to talk, even with someone as taciturn as Felix, and no one else would stand her a coffee. She scooped three spoonfuls of sugar into her cup. That way the weak sludge would taste of something, and she’d feel as if she had something in her stomach.
‘What are you up to?’ she asked. ‘You’re looking swish.’
Felix had never been this well-dressed when she’d known him before. It wasn’t exactly an elegant suit – thick wool coat, corduroy trousers, peaked cap – but there wasn’t a patch in sight, or a frayed edge. He looked like a worker, albeit one who earned a decent wage.
‘You don’t look so bad yourself,’ he said.
She didn’t know if he was talking about her, or her clothes, which, though stolen, were more or less all new, but she felt uncomfortable. She wasn’t used to compliments.
‘Got somewhere to stay?’ she asked.
He nodded. ‘You?’
‘Here and there, same as always.’
Felix looked her up and down for a second time. ‘Want to stay with me for a bit? I could use a woman’s touch.’
‘Do you have room?’
‘Can you cook?’
‘Of course,’ Hannah lied.
She could hardly believe her luck. She had a roof over her head again. A friend with money. Perhaps even a future.
58
The sun was setting as Rath reached Berlin where, as in Cologne, the number of flags seemed to have increased. In Lichterfelde and Steglitz they hung from the building fronts as if they had always been there. As cities Red Berlin and Catholic Cologne might be poles apart, but both now stood under the banner of the swastika. Only a few weeks before it would have been unthinkable.
The imperial black-white-and-red, along with the Nazi flag, represented the new Germany. According to the newspaper Rath had purchased at a petrol station the black-red-and-gold of the Republic was, as of now, forbidden. Hindenburg had given his blessing to the whole thing.
Thanks to Ede he had been obliged to pay by cheque. The attendant was suspicious at first, though the police badge set him at his ease. Even so, he insisted on making a note of Rath’s address.
He had little to show for his three-day trip, and neither he nor Gennat was happy about it. He had spoken with Buddha first from his parents’ house, then again from a telephone booth after returning to Magdeburg in search of Hermann Wibeau. Neither was sure what the man’s continued absence could mean. Wibeau’s neighbours, at least, were unconcerned, and no unidentified corpses had turned up in Magdeburg in the last few days. This had reassured Buddha, who had put out a warrant for the man all the same.
By the time Rath parked in Carmerstrasse it was already dark. He was surprised that Kirie should greet him alone, but then he heard music from the living room and went through to find Charly hunched over case files. On the table in front of her was a bottle of wine and a glass. Duke Ellington was spinning on the turntable. She looked up in surprise. ‘Back already?’
‘I’ve been away for three days.’
‘I completely lost track of time.’
She stood up, a little wobbly on her feet. He set down his case and took her in his arms. She snuggled up, and he was surprised by her affection. Had she really missed him that much – or was it just the alcohol? She tasted of red wine. ‘Welcome back,’ she said, and for the first time since renting the apartment almost a year ago, it felt like coming home.
‘What have you got there?’ he asked.
‘Hannah Singer. A new lead. She’s been sighted in town.’
He took off his hat and coat. ‘It’s landed with G Division?’
She shook her head. ‘I took the file from your office. Warrants put it on your desk, and I thought you might like to read it at home.’
‘What am I supposed to do with it? Hannah Singer is an escaped lunatic. She has nothing to do with my case.’ He was annoyed. Why couldn’t Warrants just pick her up and have her sent back to Dalldorf instead of clogging up his desk?