time,’ said Kohl quietly. ‘Neither has the correct socialist personality, and although there is currently no evidence of treasonable behaviour, there is strong suspicion. Enough to warrant arrest and incarceration. You have a duty to the State to ensure they become useful comrades. If you wish to discuss their behaviour with me, you may contact me here. My name is Erich Kohl.’
As soon as Frank left the room his chair was wiped down with a thick cotton cloth, which was placed in a glass jar, sealed, labelled and filed away.
Kohl escorted him to the exit out on Normannenstrasse and left him standing on the pavement. ‘You can make your own way back,’ said Kohl as he released his hold on Frank’s arm. ‘And not a word to anyone. Even your family. We will know if you tell them.’
Frank stood watching the sparse traffic shoot past and wondered whether or not he should say anything to his family about what had happened. He had tried to warn Alex and Geli. What else could he do? Make them stop watching West German television? He could hardly pin Alex down and cut his hair. He felt an overwhelming sense of shame and had to bite his lip to hold back the tears that welled up inside him.
Chapter 15
Alex took the morning off school to meet Herr Kalb at the district housing office. It was a cold damp day and his tram smelled of wet dog. He looked down the crowded carriage at all the dowdy overcoats and fur hats, faces staring straight ahead or at the grey condensation on the windows. Was he going to look like this in twenty or thirty years’ time? They said that there would be communism in space by then and no further need for money. But nothing would have changed though, Alex thought. Everyone would still be riding dirty buses wearing the same disgruntled expressions.
He wiped the condensation away and peered out of the window. The street was as tatty as most of the others in this area of East Berlin. Half cobble stone and half tarmac – hasty repairs after the war when the original cobbles had been blown to pieces by Soviet artillery. The older buildings – the ones that had survived the bombing and the fighting – were still peppered with bullet marks.
Alex noticed one which was particularly badly scarred by bullets and wondered who had died in there. Maybe it had been some Hitler-Jugend boys his own age. His grandma had spoken of how they had fought against the Russians. Alex could imagine how terrifying it must have been to be trapped inside that house and then have the windows smashed to pieces by a hail of machine-gun fire. All the bullets and splinters of glass flying about. Then a grenade or the scorching tongue of a flame-thrower. He flinched at the thought. What a way to die.
Alex reached his stop and got off. As the tram rolled away he saw a familiar face at the window caught in a sudden shaft of bright spring sunshine. He could swear it was that man. The one he had seen in the park. He was sure he’d been following him. The fellow stared straight at him – the way adults did with naughty children.
The district housing office was a short walk from the tram stop. Kalb saw Alex at once. He had a head of thick black hair, with a great quiff at the front, held in place with some slightly whiffy oil, pompadour style. He was wearing a white nylon shirt and black tie, and he stank of body odour. They talked about football, and the chances of Dynamo Berlin being knocked from the top of the DDR - Oberliga . Alex got the impression that Herr Kalb wasn’t terribly busy.
The meeting was a success. Kalb said he was sure Alex would be as reliable as his father and he would be pleased to offer him work in the summer break. It wouldn’t be very exciting. Mixing concrete. Carrying buckets of plaster. Heaving round prefabricated slabs. That sort of thing.
Alex left the office feeling light-hearted. It would be great to have a job like that over the long vacation. It would be good to be out in the sunshine.
As soon as Frank left the room his chair was wiped down with a thick cotton cloth, which was placed in a glass jar, sealed, labelled and filed away.
Kohl escorted him to the exit out on Normannenstrasse and left him standing on the pavement. ‘You can make your own way back,’ said Kohl as he released his hold on Frank’s arm. ‘And not a word to anyone. Even your family. We will know if you tell them.’
Frank stood watching the sparse traffic shoot past and wondered whether or not he should say anything to his family about what had happened. He had tried to warn Alex and Geli. What else could he do? Make them stop watching West German television? He could hardly pin Alex down and cut his hair. He felt an overwhelming sense of shame and had to bite his lip to hold back the tears that welled up inside him.
Chapter 15
Alex took the morning off school to meet Herr Kalb at the district housing office. It was a cold damp day and his tram smelled of wet dog. He looked down the crowded carriage at all the dowdy overcoats and fur hats, faces staring straight ahead or at the grey condensation on the windows. Was he going to look like this in twenty or thirty years’ time? They said that there would be communism in space by then and no further need for money. But nothing would have changed though, Alex thought. Everyone would still be riding dirty buses wearing the same disgruntled expressions.
He wiped the condensation away and peered out of the window. The street was as tatty as most of the others in this area of East Berlin. Half cobble stone and half tarmac – hasty repairs after the war when the original cobbles had been blown to pieces by Soviet artillery. The older buildings – the ones that had survived the bombing and the fighting – were still peppered with bullet marks.
Alex noticed one which was particularly badly scarred by bullets and wondered who had died in there. Maybe it had been some Hitler-Jugend boys his own age. His grandma had spoken of how they had fought against the Russians. Alex could imagine how terrifying it must have been to be trapped inside that house and then have the windows smashed to pieces by a hail of machine-gun fire. All the bullets and splinters of glass flying about. Then a grenade or the scorching tongue of a flame-thrower. He flinched at the thought. What a way to die.
Alex reached his stop and got off. As the tram rolled away he saw a familiar face at the window caught in a sudden shaft of bright spring sunshine. He could swear it was that man. The one he had seen in the park. He was sure he’d been following him. The fellow stared straight at him – the way adults did with naughty children.
The district housing office was a short walk from the tram stop. Kalb saw Alex at once. He had a head of thick black hair, with a great quiff at the front, held in place with some slightly whiffy oil, pompadour style. He was wearing a white nylon shirt and black tie, and he stank of body odour. They talked about football, and the chances of Dynamo Berlin being knocked from the top of the DDR - Oberliga . Alex got the impression that Herr Kalb wasn’t terribly busy.
The meeting was a success. Kalb said he was sure Alex would be as reliable as his father and he would be pleased to offer him work in the summer break. It wouldn’t be very exciting. Mixing concrete. Carrying buckets of plaster. Heaving round prefabricated slabs. That sort of thing.
Alex left the office feeling light-hearted. It would be great to have a job like that over the long vacation. It would be good to be out in the sunshine.
Similar Books
