Page 40 of Hell to Pay
I turned the handle of the baking oven and peered inside, and despite everything, got a pang for those long-gone days. “We were fortunate to still have flour. Smuggled in by my father’s valet’s brother, who lived on a farm in the country, along with milk, meat, butter, eggs, root vegetables … I’m afraid we were rather profligate, though I didn’t understand that at the time.” I closed the oven door and turned away with reluctance. It was time for the part of the tour I least wanted to relive, but it had been my choice to come.
“The scullery is back there.” I gestured. “If I were actually Lotte, I wouldn’t want to see that again. Two enormous sinks, and how much washing-up she did in them, all day long! Her hands were always red and chapped. But you don’t care about that. Here, we’ll go the other way, down this passage. This is the way to the cellars.”
Again, a new switch for the light instead of the old-fashioned round thing with its button. Again, Sebastian walking ahead of me down the stone steps. And again, my heart taking up a rhythm best suited for signaling some urgent message.
Through the door, and there it was. Stone floor, brick walls. I walked across the expanse of stone and opened a door. “The coal-store was here,” I said. “That may have contributedto the death of those sheltered here, I learned later. The fumes, you see, would have been toxic, especially if the ceiling had been penetrated and the coal were smoldering at all. The air didn’t seem bad when I got here, but?—"
“The ceiling was not, in fact, penetrated,” Dr. Eltschig said. “And there was no sign of fire.”
“Ah,” I said. “It was merely the lack of oxygen, then, that killed them.”
19
NO WAY OUT
“Wait,” Alix said. “What?”
I said, “Perhaps we could go upstairs again.”
I realized I had a hand over my heart when Sebastian asked, “Are you feeling pressure in your chest? Pain?”
I shook my head and dropped my hand. “Not in the way you mean. But I’d prefer …” I stopped, drew a breath, and continued. “I’d prefer to tell this part of the story upstairs.”
I don’t want to admit how much effort it took to walk up that single flight of stairs. Only my pride forced me to climb them rather than sinking down to rest halfway up, and when we got to the kitchen again and Sebastian pulled out a chair for me, my legs were shaking.
How I wished for a cup of tea! Drunk here at this table, after Frau Heffinger had poured me out a cup of the hot, strong brew that had always seemed to be at hand. Tea, too, we’d had when others had not. I’d never asked how it had been procured. I’d taken so much for granted.
Sebastian asked, “What can I get you?” He looked around. “How do we get a cup of tea?”
Dr. Bauer said, “I can have somebody bring one down, if you wish.”
I didn’t say, “Please don’t bother,” though it was on the tip of my tongue. I said, “Yes, please.” After all, I was here to offer these lovers of antiquities my knowledge. Also, I’ve discovered over the course of a long life that a bit of presumption works to one’s benefit. We should all judge others by the content of their character, yes. Unfortunately, we generally judge them based on their opinion of themselves. Human nature is, alas, thus flawed.
Strengthened by the prospect of tea, I decided to tell the next part of the story.
“After the second bombing raid ended,” I said, “we waited, as I said. But my father didn’t come.”
I’d sat there in the dark for too long, doing nothing but being afraid. Father had said to come to him, but surely, if it was as bad out there as I thought, he should have come to me by now. My chest felt tight, and I didn’t know whether it was fear or the smoke I was breathing in with every respiration.
I’d like to think I left at last because I screwed up my courage, but it was probably because I became disgusted with myself. I stood up, and Dr. Becker stood with me and said, “We’ll go together.”
“No,” I said. “We don’t know how dangerous it is, and you can’t leave the children alone. What would they do without you?” A dull roar, waxing and waning like the air-raid siren, had settled into my belly, felt more than heard. I didn’t know what it was. I was afraid to find out.
“We can use the tunnel first,” Dr. Becker said. “And check conditions outside.”
“No,” I said again. “I need to find the others. That’s first.”
“The fire, though,” Dr. Becker said. “Too easy to be trapped.”
“I’ll be careful.” This was my home, and wasn’t your home always the safest place? I knew it was irrational. I also knew I’d go through the palace anyway.
“Here, then,” Dr. Becker said. He turned on his flashlight, and the cellar blazed with such an impossibly bright cone of light, I had to turn away. He took a blanket from the empty pallet, shoved it into a bucket, then handed it to me. “Put it over yourself. If you see flames, wrap it around you and come back.”
I nodded, turned on my own flashlight, which I’d been holding all this time—I’d set it down beside me once and spent panicked seconds thinking I’d lost it—pulled the big old key from my pocket, settled the sodden, dripping blanket over my head like an old Russian lady,felt my way along the wall as Father had told me to do, and walked, surely, too far.
It can’t be too far. It’s a room.And, yes, here was the corner.
Touch the wall all the way. The door will be there. Doors don’t move.
