The Martyr of Auschwitz by David Laws

Author:David Laws [Laws, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloodhound Books

Chapter Twenty

Max Huber gave her a long, sympathetic look of appraisal, then led her inside the restaurant. He had called her up, all businesslike, and said he would like to ‘update her on progress’, but when she arrived to meet him outside the Schlesischer Bahnhof her expression must have radiated frustration and fury.

‘Clearly, you need some serious soothing,’ he said.

‘What I need is some good news,’ she said. ‘To offset my latest disaster.’ In answer to a quizzical eyebrow, she added: ‘One very dead Resistance contact.’

He sighed. ‘Oh dear… but before you tell me all about it, I want you to relax.’ He stared at her hard, as if trying to put her in a trance. ‘Relax. And embrace the German experience.’

Emma sighed. ‘Relaxation? About as likely as sunshine in the middle of a snowstorm.’

It was indeed a chilly evening, so they entered the warm glow of the restaurant just around the corner from the Marienplatz and the town hall. The Schlesischer was named after a terminus in Berlin where once upon a happy time Huber’s parents were able to board a train for their home in the far eastern tip of Germany. At least, they could before the war. He made a little gesture of resignation. ‘Alas, all gone,’ he said. ‘Given, by kindly Uncle Joe, to Poland.’

She knew what he was saying. Other people had suffered worse disasters.

Outside, the wind was sharp but on warmer days this place was popular with diners sitting at pavement tables. Inside, a hum of subdued conversation emanated from polished teak tables laid out with embossed red napkins in candlelit corners. Emma did her best to control her angry impulses. She needed this man. Don’t push him, she told herself. And she had been knowing enough to wear the wrapover dress she had bought down by the Opera House – just around the corner in a pedestrian-and-tram-only street where the windows boasted the names of Otto Kern, Beate Heymann, Kalliste and Coccinelle. Huber was set on lowering the tension, on creating a relaxed atmosphere, introducing her to the delights of quark cakes, yeast dumplings and all manner of strange dishes from Eastern Europe. He was also intent on indigenous pleasure – the Munich kind as well as from his native Silesia. ‘You must come over for lunch,’ he said, ‘but it has to be an early lunch. Before twelve.’

Emma managed an amused look. ‘That early?’

‘To eat Weisswurst. White sausage. A great local speciality. Boiled in a thin skin. But it’s an absolute rule. Must be eaten by midday. Definitely not the afternoon.’

‘And if I linger mistakenly into a few minutes after the magic hour?’

‘You turn into a frog.’

She wondered if he really had anything of substance to tell her. ‘And would the German experience perhaps include any useful little pieces of information, by any chance?’

But he didn’t seem to hear. He was into a heartfelt reminiscence about the involuntary flight of his family given half an hour to pack up and get out of their home in 1945.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.