forward and took Walter’s hand across the table. “Will you come with me, Walter my love? There is no future here. I want to be in the West with my sister and brothers. I want to be with you.”
Walter looked puzzled. “But Konstanz is here, not in the West, is she not? I do not understand.”
“Tomorrow night,” said Eva. “She and Bernhard will be in the West. I will be in the West. Come with me, Walter. Marry me and start a new life in another country with me.”
She didn’t dare look at him. Walter was a very proper man, a gentleman, and she loved him dearly. She did not think he would come with her. Hodeken had even told her not to ask. Say nothing. He will not come, so why tell more people than you must?
Walter surprised her. Her proposal had thrown him. “Let me consider,” he told her finally. “Let me think what to do.”
“Later,” she said, and kissed him.
~
The following night, four of them gathered on Wilhelmstrasse, a short walk from the Wall. Eva, Konstanz and her husband Bernhard, and, finally, Walter, looking paler and more scared than any of the others.
Eva hugged him.
“I...” He gestured at his bad leg, an old war wound. “I do not wish to be a burden. It is some time since I could claim to be a man of action.”
“You’re no burden,” said Eva.
They followed an alleyway and minutes later they saw the River Spree through the wire. The Factory Fighters had strung barbed wire across the end of this alleyway, leaving an open promenade by the river clear, a no-man’s land.
Bernhard cut the lower strands of wire with a pair of pliers and carefully peeled them back.
They crawled through and then scurried across the open area to the shelter of a tree. There they began to strip off their clothes, down to their underwear.
All the time, Eva was aware of a small figure, sitting on the wall by the river, face hidden in the shadow of his felt hat.
She turned, and saw that Walter had only removed his coat. He was grimacing.
“My knee,” he said. “I strained it under the wire.”
“You will be okay,” said Eva, more an instruction than a question. “We swim together. I will help you.”
“Yes, yes.”
Already, the other two were on the wall, ready to drop into the dark waters of the Spree.
Go on! You have little time, my children. Leave him, Eva, go!
She couldn’t. She helped Walter with his jacket.
She heard the soft splashes as the others entered the water.
Walter took her arm. He had her top in his other hand. “Put this on,” he said. “Go back. There is still time.”
That was when she began to understand Hodeken’s warning.
You could trust no-one these days. Anybody might turn out to be an informer, telling stories to the People’s Police, or worse, to the State Security Police, the Stasi.
Anybody.
She took her top – she had to, he thrust it right at her – and backed away, feeling as if her world had been dragged out from under her feet.
She reached the low stone wall, but it was too dark to see anyone in the water.
She looked across, and Walter had produced a pistol, a Luger, and he was aiming down into the water.
She kicked out at him, the man she had loved. She struck him on his injured knee and his leg buckled. His hands swung upwards, and a shot went high into the air. The flash from the gun’s muzzle surprised her almost as much as the sudden noise, so close to her head.
That must have been the signal, the first shot. A floodlight came on, shining down from the bridge, and its beam swung across the water.
Someone shouted a warning, and a shot was fired. Then another. Another.
The floodlight was suddenly extinguished and the firing halted.
Blinking, Eva peered up at the bridge, and there she saw a tiny figure skipping along the parapet.
Hodeken!
There was more shouting up there now.
She turned and looked down, wondering now why Walter had gone quiet.
He was dead.
A stray bullet must have struck him. A ricochet.
Go. Too late to swim
Walter looked puzzled. “But Konstanz is here, not in the West, is she not? I do not understand.”
“Tomorrow night,” said Eva. “She and Bernhard will be in the West. I will be in the West. Come with me, Walter. Marry me and start a new life in another country with me.”
She didn’t dare look at him. Walter was a very proper man, a gentleman, and she loved him dearly. She did not think he would come with her. Hodeken had even told her not to ask. Say nothing. He will not come, so why tell more people than you must?
Walter surprised her. Her proposal had thrown him. “Let me consider,” he told her finally. “Let me think what to do.”
“Later,” she said, and kissed him.
~
The following night, four of them gathered on Wilhelmstrasse, a short walk from the Wall. Eva, Konstanz and her husband Bernhard, and, finally, Walter, looking paler and more scared than any of the others.
Eva hugged him.
“I...” He gestured at his bad leg, an old war wound. “I do not wish to be a burden. It is some time since I could claim to be a man of action.”
“You’re no burden,” said Eva.
They followed an alleyway and minutes later they saw the River Spree through the wire. The Factory Fighters had strung barbed wire across the end of this alleyway, leaving an open promenade by the river clear, a no-man’s land.
Bernhard cut the lower strands of wire with a pair of pliers and carefully peeled them back.
They crawled through and then scurried across the open area to the shelter of a tree. There they began to strip off their clothes, down to their underwear.
All the time, Eva was aware of a small figure, sitting on the wall by the river, face hidden in the shadow of his felt hat.
She turned, and saw that Walter had only removed his coat. He was grimacing.
“My knee,” he said. “I strained it under the wire.”
“You will be okay,” said Eva, more an instruction than a question. “We swim together. I will help you.”
“Yes, yes.”
Already, the other two were on the wall, ready to drop into the dark waters of the Spree.
Go on! You have little time, my children. Leave him, Eva, go!
She couldn’t. She helped Walter with his jacket.
She heard the soft splashes as the others entered the water.
Walter took her arm. He had her top in his other hand. “Put this on,” he said. “Go back. There is still time.”
That was when she began to understand Hodeken’s warning.
You could trust no-one these days. Anybody might turn out to be an informer, telling stories to the People’s Police, or worse, to the State Security Police, the Stasi.
Anybody.
She took her top – she had to, he thrust it right at her – and backed away, feeling as if her world had been dragged out from under her feet.
She reached the low stone wall, but it was too dark to see anyone in the water.
She looked across, and Walter had produced a pistol, a Luger, and he was aiming down into the water.
She kicked out at him, the man she had loved. She struck him on his injured knee and his leg buckled. His hands swung upwards, and a shot went high into the air. The flash from the gun’s muzzle surprised her almost as much as the sudden noise, so close to her head.
That must have been the signal, the first shot. A floodlight came on, shining down from the bridge, and its beam swung across the water.
Someone shouted a warning, and a shot was fired. Then another. Another.
The floodlight was suddenly extinguished and the firing halted.
Blinking, Eva peered up at the bridge, and there she saw a tiny figure skipping along the parapet.
Hodeken!
There was more shouting up there now.
She turned and looked down, wondering now why Walter had gone quiet.
He was dead.
A stray bullet must have struck him. A ricochet.
Go. Too late to swim
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