The Pathfinder (9 page)

He protested in his maddeningly airy way. ‘Don't make such a silly fuss, Lili. It's not so very late.'

‘It's nearly half past twelve. What have you been doing?'

‘Meeting somebody. Doing some very good business.' From the inside pocket of his raincoat he drew out a small box and opened it. ‘Just look at this.' She stared at the ring embedded in its soft cushion of black velvet. ‘It's a ruby, set in pure gold. Isn't it beautiful?'

‘It must be worth a fortune.'

He smiled at her. ‘No, not a fortune. A hundred American cigarettes and a tin of British dried milk. It once belonged to a Jewess, I was told. I can imagine what happened to her.'

‘You're crazy to do this, Dirk. The Russians will catch you in the end. And if they don't someone else will. Don't you ever read the newspapers? Every day people are murdered and robbed in Berlin. Or they just disappear. And what use is a ring? You can't eat it.'

‘But one day I can sell it for a nice lot of money. I shall keep it. Hide it in a safe place for a rainy day. Or I may barter it instead since every day is rainy. For some meat, perhaps. It's a long time since we had any meat to eat and it will do Rudi good. So you've no reason to make such a song and dance.' He returned the ring to the box and his eye fell on the half bar of chocolate on the table. ‘Hallo, what's this?'

‘It's your share.'

He picked it up, reading the wrapper. ‘This is English chocolate. Fry's Sandwich. How did you get this?'

‘The British squadron leader was here again earlier. He brought two bars of it and some aeroplane pictures for Rudi. He wants to buy the pilot's watch. I told him I wasn't sure you still had it.'

‘Yes, I still have it. I always knew he would come back for it.'

‘I don't see why. I never thought he would.'

‘Two reasons. He liked the watch. And he liked you.'

She said crossly, ‘You talk such nonsense, Dirk. He doesn't like anything German. He never wanted to come here in the first place, anyone could see that. It was all Nico's doing. You know how he loves to meddle with people's lives. To manipulate. I think he gets a kick out of it.'

‘Well, it was lucky that he meddled with ours. He's a lot of help to us.'

‘But I hate to feel beholden to him in any way. I don't like him bringing us things. I don't like him coming here at all.'

‘We need him. He's good for business. He knows everyone. Everything that happens in Berlin.'

‘Then I wish he would find you some proper work instead of this dangerous game you play.'

‘What would I do? Sweated labour for peanuts, like you do? Dig drains? Cart rubbish? Is that what you want for me?'

‘You'd get extra rations.'

‘I can get extra rations without doing that. Look at all the things I find for us. So long as I can do that, you don't have to sell yourself to any more Americans.' He stared at her thoughtfully. ‘I think you should encourage the squadron leader. I told you – he admires you. I saw the way he was noticing you. Very politely, of course, like an English gentleman. Very correct. But he noticed you, just the same. If you play your cards right you could marry him and go and live in England and drink tea all day.'

‘Don't say such stupid things. It's not funny.'

‘But it's not so stupid. Just be sure not to tell him anything, that's all. A lot of girls in Berlin are getting out that way. Why not you?' He grinned. ‘Only you will have to work fast because the British will be leaving soon. The Russians are driving them out like frightened sheep. You could take Rudi with you. I'll look after Grandfather. He's too old and gaga to move.'

She said quietly, ‘I don't want to leave, Dirk. This is our home. We are Berliners.'

He nodded. ‘So we are. Suits me.' He picked up the half bar of chocolate from the table. ‘Is this any good?'

‘Yes. It's got a different layer in the middle.'

He bit into the bar, chewed and swallowed. ‘Not bad. I never knew the British could make decent chocolate.' He smiled at her. ‘Perhaps he'll bring some more when he comes back for the watch.'

It was almost two weeks before the squadron leader returned one evening. Dirk opened the door to him and he came into the room in his smart blue uniform with medal ribbons and badges, holding the Royal Air Force cap in one hand and carrying a large brown paper bag under his other arm. Lili knew from seeing the British Occupation Forces in Berlin that they were by no means all tall and fair-haired, as she had previously imagined, but the squadron leader was both those things, with blue eyes. Even out of uniform, she would have instantly known his nationality. So reserved. So stern-looking. So unemotional. So correct.

Grandfather had not felt well and had gone to bed early but Rudi was up and the squadron leader had, indeed, brought more chocolate. He took it out of the paper bag: not the sandwich kind this time, but a different one in a purple wrapper. He laid it on the table. Cadbury's Whole Nut Milk Chocolate. ‘I'm sorry I couldn't find any more pictures,' he told Rudi. ‘But I brought this instead.' He handed her brother a metal model of a two-engined aeroplane. ‘It's an American DC3. A Dakota, we call it in the RAF.'

Rudi was overwhelmed and, for a moment, speechless. ‘It's really for me?'

‘Yes, that's right.'

‘To keep?'

‘Yes, of course. Not very exciting, I'm afraid. It's a transport plane mainly. Bit of a workhorse. But very useful and extremely reliable.'

‘Thank you, sir. You are very kind. I like it very much. I think perhaps I have seen this aeroplane in the sky over Berlin.'

‘Very probably.'

Dirk had fetched his suitcase and set it on the table. He unsnapped the clasps and took out the Hanhart
Fliegerchronograph
. ‘Here you are, sir. Please try it, if you wish.'

She watched the Royal Air Force pilot unbuckle his own watch, which he put in his pocket, and fasten the Luftwaffe watch round his left wrist. Dirk was watching him too – motionless and intently, like some animal with its prey. ‘You like it, sir?'

‘Yes, it's fine. Three hundred and fifty Player's, you said?'

‘Yes, sir. It is a very good bargain for you.'

The squadron leader handed over the brown paper bag. ‘Seven tins of fifty. I think that's how you wanted them.'

Dirk checked quickly – a mere glance inside the bag so as not to offend the squadron leader. ‘Thank you, sir. And if you know other people who would like a good watch, I can help them too. It is all extra food for us.'

The squadron leader flushed. He said, ‘I understood civilian rations were better here in the Soviet sector than in ours. We have to bring in all our food from miles away. Surely the Russians can feed you much more easily.'

‘The Russians do not want us fit and strong, sir. They want us weak and feeble, so they keep us on just enough calories a day to survive.'

‘Why not move to a western sector? We try to do rather more than that.'

‘There are not many places to live anywhere in Berlin, haven't you noticed, sir? And this is our home – isn't that so, Lili? Home sweet home. It means very much to us. It's all we have. All that reminds us of our mother and father.'

The flush spread further and deepened. ‘Yes, of course. I'm awfully sorry.'

Dirk started to take the tins of English cigarettes out of the paper bag and arrange them in his case. ‘It's not so bad. We have electricity now and water from the tap. Quite luxurious. Besides, to move to your sector would not help us. We do not believe that you British will stay here for much longer. Or the Americans or the French. The Russians are making it too difficult for you all, so you will give up and go in the end and the whole of Berlin will become Russian. That is what will happen. That is what we believe.'

The squadron leader said stiffly, ‘I can assure you that we have no intention of leaving.'

‘Intention is one thing to have. But you may be forced to. After all, like us, you must eat. So must the civilians in your sector.' Dirk snapped the suitcase shut and lifted it off the table. ‘Excuse me, sir, but I must go out now.' He nodded to Lili and said in German, ‘I won't be long.'

She answered, also in German, ‘Where are you going? It's getting late.'

‘Not far. I'll be back soon.'

He was gone before she could argue, slipping out like quicksilver. The squadron leader moved towards the door as well but Rudi wanted to show him his collection of aeroplane pictures, pasted with flour and water into a home-made scrapbook. The Englishman sat patiently beside him at the table and she noticed that he was able to identify all the planes.

‘You must go to bed now, Rudi,' she said in German when he had reached the end of the book.

‘Oh, no . . . there are many questions that I must ask.'

‘Not now. The squadron leader has to leave. You have kept him long enough. And if you do not rest you will not be well enough to go to school in the morning. Say goodbye and thank you and make sure you don't disturb Grandfather.'

He went off reluctantly, carrying his scrapbook and the prized aeroplane model and his share of the nut chocolate.

She said politely, ‘Thank you for bringing the plane. It means a lot to him.'

‘Nico Kocharian told me he's not been well.'

‘He caught polio last year. There was a big epidemic in Berlin and a lot of children died. It was a miracle that he recovered. His health is still not good, as you can see. He has a cough and there are all sorts of problems . . . It is the same with many other children in Berlin. When they are growing they need good food but this has not always been possible.'

He looked uncomfortable. ‘I'm sorry. I hope things will soon improve.'

‘It does not seem very likely, does it? If the western Allies leave.'

‘Is that what you all
really
believe? That we'll give up Berlin? Throw in the towel?'

‘Towel?'

‘Sorry. Let the Russians push us out?'

‘They surround you. They make a ring round the city with their tanks and soldiers. Berlin is like an island now and you could be cut off completely.'

‘We won't let that happen.'

‘How can you be so sure? How could you stop it?'

He said levelly, ‘We're not in the habit of letting other countries dictate to us.'

‘Yes . . . I know that. You have shown the world so.' She folded her arms across her chest. ‘It's not the Berliners you really care about, is it? It's not permitting the Russians to bully you. You do not want that to happen at any cost.'

He frowned. ‘The western Allies want peace in Europe, not more war. A democratic peace. For everyone.'

‘I do not think you can comprehend how it is in Middle Europe. How it has been for centuries. Always wars. Always frontiers changing. Always revolutions. Always refugees. In England you are on a safe little island of your own. In America they are in another world altogether. There can never be a lasting peace here, you know. However much
you
may want it. Perhaps you waste your time and it is better that you do leave.'

‘Surely you don't want the Soviets to take over the whole of Berlin? To be ruled by them – after the way they've treated you?'

She said fiercely, ‘The British and the Americans did not treat us so well during the war either. You bombed us by night and by day until thousands and thousands were dead and our city was in ruins.'

‘The Nazis had to be beaten.'

‘By deliberately killing old men and women and innocent children? The Luftwaffe bombed only military targets.'

‘Is that what you believe?'

‘It is what we were always told.'

‘Then you were told lies. Nazi propaganda. A great many civilians were killed by the Luftwaffe in England – in London and other cities.'

‘But your cities were not completely destroyed like ours. We were on our knees, already defeated, but still the bombers came, day after day, night after night, until there was nothing left.'

‘Germany refused to surrender.'

‘So did England. But we did not bomb you to dust.'

‘Only because we stopped you.'

She found she was shaking, either from anger or distress; perhaps both mixed up together. ‘You flew in those bombers – the Lancasters. The ones that came at night. I heard you tell Rudi so. You were the pilot. Perhaps you came to Berlin?'

‘Yes, as a matter of fact I did.'

‘Many times?'

‘Yes. Many times.'

It could have been him up there that night. His plane that had dropped the bombs. ‘Didn't you feel
any
pity for the people you were killing?'

‘I'm afraid not. I imagine your Luftwaffe didn't feel much either when they bombed our women and children. It was war. Total war.'

‘So, you pressed a button from high up. You saw nothing of what happened and you felt nothing? How easy for you!'

‘
Easy
. You think any of it was
easy
? Do you know how many RAF men died getting rid of your beloved Führer for you? More than fifty-five thousand. And I haven't included the umpteen thousands of Americans who lost their lives having to do the same ghastly job.' He, too, was angry now. Very angry. White-faced with it, not flushed like he had been before.

‘He was
not
my beloved Führer. I hated him. So did others.'

‘Well, I'm terribly sorry but it wasn't exactly possible to pick out the few, who may have been against him and not drop bombs on
them.
' He took a deep breath. ‘We don't seem to understand each other very well, Fräulein Leicht. There's absolutely no point in continuing this discussion.' He picked up his cap from the table. ‘I ought to go at once.'