Page 58 of The Last Safe Place
“Stop dawdling, we want to get home today,” called Michaela. Denied public transport, they had a long walk ahead of them.
“I need to talk to your mother for a second,” Leonore said to Eva, walking briskly to catch up with Michaela. “I think I’ve convinced Eva that it’s better to come with us.” Leonore said once out of earshot of the girl. “She’s afraid of the unknown.”
“Thank you.” Michaela scrutinized her face. “There’s something else on your mind.”
“I’ve been fired.” Leonore wrinkled her nose.
“You should be happy about that, right?” Michaela knew that her emigration had been blocked because her work at the factory was considered critical to the war effort.
“Sure… but I miss my colleagues.”
Michaela put a hand on her shoulder. “I hope you didn’t tell them anything.”
“Of course not, what do you take me for?”
“For a blabbermouth.” Michaela’s smile took the edge off her words.
“I can keep my mouth shut when I absolutely have to.” Leonore was well-aware of her weakness. “It hurts that my colleagues think I was fired for incompetence.”
“Think of it as the fate of a secret agent to be misjudged.”
Her words immediately lifted Leonore’s spirits. Nellie Bly, her role model, had even posed as mentally ill to conduct research in a lunatic asylum. Anything Nellie could do, Leonore could manage easily.
At the next street corner, Michaela stopped. “You don’t have to come all the way with us. We’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”
Leonore was secretly glad she didn’t have to walk the long round trip, but she protested all the same. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. Go and write your inventory list like a good girl, and don’t forget the passion killers.”
Back at home, Leonore sat on the bed and mulled over the things she wanted to take with her. The Gestapo allowed one suitcase per person, and no items of material value – not that Leonore still owned anything valuable.
She decided to pack her suitcase as a trial run and discovered that her few belongings, which had looked so lost and forlorn in the closet, didn’t fit. So she unpacked everything, putting her clothes on one side of the bed, sorting everything else into piles on the other side.
“I’ll have to take the clothes,” she said to herself. “Who knows if and when I’ll be able to buy anything new.” She’d wear the thick sweater, the ankle boots, coat, scarf, hat and gloves, no matter how warm it was on the day of departure. She set these aside, and the rest of her clothes fitted in the suitcase with ease. There was even a little space left, although nowhere near enough to pack everything that was still on the bed.
The bedding, the down quilt, a tablecloth hand-embroidered by her grandmother – one by one, she placed them all in the closet with a heavy heart. Her gaze fell on the mechanical alarm clock, which would have to come. Toothbrush, and the tiny piece of soap too.
Books? She bit her lip. In the years she’d worked for Herr Balsen, she had come to appreciate reading. But as much as it made her soul weep, the books would have to stay behind. Her circle of friends contained enough people who’d be glad to receive them, since Leonore certainly had no intention of leaving anything behind in her room for Aryan vultures to get their claws on.
Next, her gaze fell on the silver candlestick on the dresser, and she bit back a laugh. When Jews had been ordered to hand in their silver, she’d painted it yellow so that it looked like any old cheap, ugly brass candlestick. Despite its excellent camouflage, she couldn’t take it with her, as it was far too bulky to fit in the suitcase.
She felt a stab in the heart at the thought of losing it. It was the only memento she had of her parents. For a moment she toyed with the idea of giving it to a friend for safe keeping until after the war. But then she shook her head. She’d hand over the candlestick, together with the furniture, to the Abwehr to cover at least a small portion of the horrifyingly large security deposit demanded by the Swiss for their immigration permits.
The suitcase was almost full. She stuffed two pencils and a notepad into the gaps, followed by an ancient pair of sunglasses, a photograph album and her diary. After a moment’s reflection, she fished out the diary and put it in her coat pocket. The last thing she wanted was for her diary to show up on an inventory list to give some Gestapo officer the entertainment of reading her most intimate thoughts.
Next she walked into the kitchen, fetched a plate, a set of cutlery and a cup, and stowed the items in her suitcase. Who knew where she’d end up in Switzerland, and whether there would be dishes available.
Then she closed the suitcase, stowed everything else and looked around her room. She wouldn’t miss it. Not even the beautiful, old bureau Herr Balsen had given her. It was a good piece of furniture; let the Abwehr get some money for it, along with the bed, the closet, and the few pieces of crockery left in the kitchen.
Leonore pushed her lower lip forward and blew a curl away from her forehead. Now she had to unpack everything again and write it on the inventory list. Once that was finished, she put the things to take with her in one of the closet compartments, and what remained in another. As she looked at the little pile, a wave of homesickness washed over her, and she dropped backward onto the bed.
She lay there, eyes open, staring at the stained ceiling while images of her life passed before her eyes. The strawberry cake her mother had baked on Leonore’s sixth birthday; a trip with her parents and her sister Berenike to Wannsee; Berenike’s illness, their fears for her and the relief that she had survived polio, even if she had to use a wheelchair afterward. Finally the letter from the home for the disabled, stating she had died of pneumonia. Some time later, her parents had been taken away and she’d never heard from them again.
Leonore closed her eyes and cried bitterly. Hours later, she finally found the strength to get up and wipe the tears from her eyes. One look into the open closet with its neatly separated compartments containing her past, and the small pile signifying her future, was enough to have her fighting heartache and nostalgia all over again. She quickly closed the cupboard, packed the books into her suitcase and fled the room. On her way tothe tram, she pulled the star off its snap fasteners on her jacket, before boarding the tram to her friend Birgit.
“Leo, what’s happened?” Birgit’s eyes widened in horror as she noticed the suitcase.
“Nothing. Only books in here.”