The Rabbit Girls(95)

I walked past Hani and Matka, my steps slow, and shuffled my feet into clogs. Legs bare, the shirt covering us to my thighs. Following the blood trail.

‘Frieda,’ Hani said. All the love for me in one word. I smiled and as I turned away she started to sing. And then they all sang. A chorus of voices joined hers, the words lost in a sea of languages; a lullaby sung, as I walked us to our death.

Tears fall down Miriam’s cheeks and drip from her nose and chin. She shakes her head and stifles a sob as she reads the final page.

I didn’t get far. Hani came running after me, and then in front of me. The Blockova with a bat and a clipboard in her hand towered over her. She pulled up her sleeve and the Blockova made a mark on her paper and sent her forward.

To the showers.

In my place.

I moved as fast as I could, but stumbled at the last and landed on my bare knees on the ice at the Blockova’s feet.

And something strange happened. I felt another contraction, my initial thought was twins. Oh my god, there’s another. The baby was out of sight of the Blockova, but I couldn’t just have a baby in front of her and not get a response. Matka had followed me and kept a distance. She quickly lifted my dress and clamped and cut the cord as the Blockova’s back was turned. When the Blockova turned back to me and saw the blood trickling down my legs and the pool of placenta at my feet, she screamed, ‘Revier!’

Matka collected the placenta and wrapped it up in some paper. Other women were holding me, lifting me, the baby didn’t make a sound, she lay her head on my breast.

‘My friend.’ I said to the Blockova, and as I said it I realised that Hani had been my only friend in the world. I couldn’t see her now through the mass of grey stripes. I kept looking, I stood in front of the Blockova waiting. Then Hani turned and I saw her for the last time.

I understood why Bunny was silent.





39





MIRIAM


She walks to the police station, her eyes tired and her heart full. She arrives at 9 a.m. and the doors are not open. She waits, stamps her feet and blows into her hands. Thinking of the letters, of Hani and of Frieda.

An officer arrives and opens the doors from within, the air is warm and Miriam feels her fingers, cheeks and toes tingle back to life.

‘I’m here to talk to someone about Eva, Eva Bertrandt, I think.’

She is shown to a plastic chair in the main waiting area and the officer leaves his desk.

‘Is she still here?’

‘Yes, she was kept overnight.’

‘Has she been arrested?’

‘Not that I know of. I’ve just got in, so give me a few minutes to get up to speed. Coffee?’

‘No, thank you.’

She watches as the hands of the clock move and imagines Eva curled on to a bunk in a small, grey cell, cold and unspeakably alone. Trapped behind yet another wall. She feels the shiver of cold and dread wash over her, then feeling her fingers pink up, she removes her coat and waits.

‘So, you’re a friend of Frau Bertrandt, is that correct?’

‘Yes.’

‘Can you come this way, please?’ He has notes in his hand and opens them, reading as he walks.

Miriam stands and as she follows the young officer she cannot help but speak.

‘I was questioned yesterday and as I was leaving Eva confessed to something that she shouldn’t have done. I think she was doing it to save me, but I didn’t really need saving. Neither of us did anything wrong.’

‘I see,’ he says and points to the chair in a similar room to the one she waited in yesterday, only this table is white, shiny plastic.

‘From what I can see here,’ he reads from his notes, ‘she was questioned and kept here overnight. She will have to give a statement if needed in due course and to be available to speak with the police as a witness to a crime. The crime against you, I believe.’

‘Not against Axel?’

‘Herr Voight seems unable to recall what happened to him.’

‘Why?’

‘I think the facts that were presented to him, including the injuries to you, prevented his story from having the impact he had hoped for,’ the officer says with disdain. ‘We also received a supporting letter from a . . .’ He consults his file. ‘A Nurse Hensher, stating that your husband has shown abusive tendencies and that the concerns about your mental health were not relevant now that you had left him.’

‘How did Hilda know anything about this?’

‘The letter came with Frau Bertrandt,’ the officer says. ‘I think it is hoped that this, although serious, will be classed as a domestic incident and no further action is needed. I would caution you, as I will do your husband, to stay away from each other.’

‘Thank you.’

Eva comes out into the reception area creased and small. Her face has seemingly shrunk into itself and she looks very old. Her white-blonde hair grey in the fluorescent lights.

‘You came for me?’

Miriam doesn’t answer but drops her bag and coat on the seat and gives Eva a huge hug.

‘You came for me too,’ she says and kisses Eva’s cold cheek.

Both women stand and cry. The police officer puts a box of tissues on the desk. They wipe their eyes and smile shyly at the other.

‘Can I escort you home?’