Perfectly Ordinary People(39)

So he wanted you to pretend to be Pierre’s wife?

That’s right. And of course, with a baby, he thought it would be even more convincing.

I asked him if it was dangerous, and what would happen if I got caught, and he started to cry properly then, saying that yes, it was true, it was dangerous – it was too dangerous. But my mind kept conjuring up images of those bastards torturing poor Pierre, of him sitting on a cold stone floor in a cell. I asked Matias to tell me the truth about what they were doing to him, and he said they’d pulled off some fingernails. He said they’d done other stuff too, stuff he didn’t want to tell me about.

And this rage started to rise up in me, this sense of . . . indignation . . . perhaps, is the word. It felt like it came from outside of me, from God, perhaps, or the universe, or . . . I don’t know. I honestly don’t know where it came from, but it filled me . . . I felt so . . . so very offended . . . so outraged at what they were doing to my friend. I wanted to go straight down and give them what for.

And did you?

No, Matias made me calm down. It had to happen while he was at work, he said. He needed to be there so he could vouch for the fact that I was, indeed, Pierre’s wife. So we had to wait until morning.

After Matias left, I didn’t sleep a wink. I kept changing my mind about whether it was suicide to go down there, or whether it was simply unthinkable not to, unthinkable to leave Pierre to die at the hands of the Germans. I honestly didn’t know whether I was going to do it or not.

In the end, I left the flat just after eight, as instructed, the baby slung over my back in a folded shawl. I marched towards the police station and then, just as I approached it, I had a fit of panic and couldn’t breathe, so I walked straight past. But when I got to the corner of the street, I saw two young German soldiers smoking and laughing together – they honestly looked about seventeen – and I thought, damn them! I’m not afraid of them! That crazy, fearless feeling had returned so I turned around and marched back in.

The policeman at the front desk was French, and for some reason I hadn’t expected that; I’d expected them all to be German, which was stupid of me, because of course, I knew that Matias was still working there. But I was suddenly terrified I’d be recognised, that some policeman from around our way would see me and say he knew my father and that I didn’t have a baby. But by then it was too late. It was my turn at the desk.

So I told him that my husband had gone missing – just as Matias had instructed – and I demanded to know if they were holding him.

I gave him Pierre’s surname and watched as he went into the office to talk to a German who was sitting there. He was probably SS, but I was so scared I honestly didn’t notice. He glanced out at me and then leafed through a book he had on his desk. And then the policeman came back and said, ‘He’s your husband, you say? Are you sure?’

So I laughed sourly, and told him that of course I was bloody sure, and he said that yes, he was here, but there must have been some kind of mistake.

I started making a fuss then. Matias had been quite specific about how I should start out reasonably and get louder and louder, and so that’s exactly what I did. And, honestly, I should have got an Oscar for that performance. I started to rant and shout about how the hell was I supposed to look after a newborn baby without my husband, and what in God’s name were they doing holding him? What had he ever done to anyone other than to mend people’s plumbing? I was so scared that my voice was all shaky and I started to cry as well, but I think that only made it all the more convincing. People started to stop and stare. An old woman who’d been waiting joined in, saying something about the fact that it was shameful, taking my husband away. And with a newborn as well!

The baby started to scream then too, and as I could see that was annoying the German, who was struggling to concentrate on his paperwork, I jiggled poor Ansgar up and down, making him scream even more.

Finally, the German rubbed a hand across his forehead, took off his glasses and stood and came out to the desk.

He shouted ‘Schweigen!’ at me – silence! – but as planned, I got even louder. More people started stopping and staring at this hysterical woman with a baby, shouting at the German officer, so I started screaming how we’d been happy – happy! – when they’d arrived, because they’d been so polite and friendly and helpful, but that this, this rounding up of people’s husbands off the street was absolutely intolerable.

The soldier told me that if I didn’t shut up, I’d be joining my husband in the cells, and I told him to do it, to take me. ‘At least we’ll be together!’ I said.

He shrugged then and told the policeman to take me down, and for a terrible moment I thought I’d failed, and I swear my heart stopped in fear. In seconds, I was drenched in sweat, and I was gasping because I couldn’t breathe. I thought I’d got it all wrong and now both Menashe and I were going to die. But just as he grabbed me, Matias sauntered in. I think he’d been outside, listening and waiting for the perfect moment.

‘Genevieve!’ he said, then casually to his colleague, ‘Hold on. What’s going on here? I know her. Is there a problem?’

The policeman asked Matias if he was sure he knew me, and he said that of course he was sure, we’d grown up together – he’d even been best man at my wedding.

I told him they’d taken Pierre and I didn’t know why, and he pretended to be shocked. He made a tiny gesture with his hand, which I didn’t at first understand, but after a second or so, I understood that he wanted me to turn it up a notch – he wanted me to make more fuss. So I sank to my knees and hugged his legs and started crying again about how Pierre had been missing for days and I’d been looking everywhere for him, and that he’d been here all the time. I begged him to help us, to tell them that they’d made a mistake, and then he made another gesture to indicate, I think, that I was going a bit over the top. He prised my hands from his legs and went into the back office to speak to the German.