Page 17 of The Last Safe Place
“Not for another hour. I’ve written everything down for you.” Leonore handed him the list.
“In that case, please bring a coffee straight to my office and take some dictation.”
“Of course.” She tilted her head and looked at the man who had helped her out of a fix so many times. “I received a demand this morning to surrender my winter clothes.”
“I heard about that. I believe the deadline is the end of the week.” He scrutinized her closely. “Would you like a half day off tomorrow to see to that?”
“Definitely not. I need my warm coat.” She shrugged. “The demand is lying ripped to tiny shreds on my apartment floor.”
“What a headstrong young woman you are, Fräulein Leonore. Pour a cup of coffee for yourself too, and come into my office.” He locked the outer door, then disappeared into his office.
A cold shiver ran down Leonore’s back. Perhaps she should comply with the order? She tucked her shorthand notebook and pencil under her arm, grabbed the tray with two cups of coffee, and pushed open the door to Herr Balsen’s office with her foot.
“We’re out of sugar,” she said apologetically. “Would you like some honey?”
“No, thank you.” Herr Balsen grimaced. “I’ll bring some tomorrow. But first, we need to address your problem.”
Leonore wasn’t aware she had a problem.
“What were you thinking, simply ignoring a government order?”
She looked down at the floor guiltily.
He sighed “It’s a mystery to me how a conscientious secretary like yourself can disregard the most basic precautions in her private life. Especially in your precarious situation.”
“My situation is, as you so aptly put it, precarious enough. I need my warm things because I can’t heat my room, and Icertainly don’t intend to meekly freeze to death – I refuse to give the Gestapo that satisfaction.”
“No, no one can accuse you of meekness, Fräulein Leonore.” He gave her such a long, hard stare that she began to feel queasy. Just as she was about to say something, he spoke again. “You should move out.”
“But why?”
“Oh, my dear. You will have to deliver something to the authorities by the deadline, or they’ll come for you sooner or later.”
“I’m not giving up my warm clothes, or I’ll freeze to death.”
“You see?”
“But where shall I go?”
He thought for a while and then said, “Here’s what you’ll do: go to your room and pack up your things. From now on, you’ll sleep here in the office.”
“Here?” Leonore’s eyes widened.
“At least until spring. Nevertheless, I advise you to hand in at least one old coat or jacket so they tick your name off, instead of putting it on the next deportation list.”
Leonore rolled her eyes. Herr Balsen meant well, but he lived in a completely different world. “I only own this one coat.”
“That is indeed… a problem.” He frowned, then announced: “I shall give you an old piece of clothing of my late mother’s. There must be something in the attic.”
“You really want me to live in the office?” It was beginning to dawn on Leonore that this was the perfect solution. If the Gestapo didn’t find her at her apartment, they couldn’t send her the dreaded deportation order.
“On the visitors’ sofa. Best pack your feather bed, cooking utensils and anything else important. I’ll have a messenger pick them up.”
“Thank you very much. You have no idea what this means to me.” With that, the conversation was clearly at an end, and Leonore sat to take dictation.
During her lunch break, she returned to the apartment – if that’s what you could call the small dank room with a wash basin and a communal kitchen. She wouldn’t miss it. Herr Balsen’s office was distinctly more pleasant – and better heated. It also had the advantage that it wasn’t in a Jewish quarter. She wouldn’t have to constantly wear the hateful star, as nobody would suspect her of being Jewish when she left the building.
In fact, the Nazis had done her a favor with their crazy demand that she hand over her winter coat. Leonore was in good spirits. Let the Nazis waste their time thinking up ways to persecute her, she would always find a way around them.