Page 75 of The Watchmaker of Dachau

Anna began. ‘Of all the years to have been in love, this is the one – a joke, surely?’

Chapter 26

J. A. L.

September 1944

Of all the years to have been in love, this is the one – a joke, surely?

Of all the years I have lived, which are so few, in this one my heart is both full and broken at the same time.

I imagined that I would find wonderful things in my life that would remind me of you – the smell of a flower, perhaps, one you had tended to with your own hands, or perhaps the warmth of summer heat on my back, bringing me the memory of when we spent a summer at the beach. All of these things I had hoped for my first love, for my first reminiscences of love.

Yet the things that remind me of you are foolish and lack poetry, lack the depth of what I actually feel.

Take this morning, for example. I stubbed my toe on the bunk, and was reminded of the time I did that in front of you, and how you had checked on me, looking at my toe, patting it and then smacking the wood that hurt it, telling it that it was a naughty piece of wood. It had made me laugh and I quickly forgot about my toe.

It is a sweet memory, of course, but not the one I wished to carry with me. I wanted this year to be full of memories we made together, travelling, eating at restaurants, laughing with friends. Instead I am here, and everything is grey and muddled. Although I know the war is changing, my future outside here still seems so far away, as if I could reach out and touch it but then it inches away from my grasp each time.

I have been thinking of Katharina too, lately. Not that I ever really stop thinking about her; she is always there, a part of me. Yet these past days, the violence has increased and I heard that a group of children were gassed – all alone, without their mothers – and I could not help but think of my younger sister and wish with all my heart that she is still alive.

I picture both Mother and Szymon waiting out the days in Max’s basement – oh God, I hope they are still there, I hope that we were not traced back to Max somehow. Not that Katharina and I ever said anything to those SS who took us, but I have no way of knowing what became of them.

I have this idea that one day, you, Katharina and I will go to Max’s. We will lift the hatch above the basement and take my mother and Szymon out, show them the outside world once more, and visit my father who lies under the pines on the hill. I always thought that we would re-bury him and give him the funeral he so deserved, but the more I have pondered this, the more I have come to think that he would have liked the spot we chose for him far more than a cemetery.

I have a friend in my bunkhouse. His name is Levi and he makes jokes all the time. If the guards were to hear him, I think they would shoot him on the spot as most of the jokes are about Hitler, but I admire his spirit – he will not let it be broken. This is his second camp and he says it is not as bad as the last one.

At first, I thought he was joking and laughed at him. But he did not smile, and I stopped.

‘Auschwitz is worse, believe me,’ he said. ‘My wife and children are still there. When I was first relocated, I was worried for myself – I thought that whatever they had in store for me next would be far worse than what I had already endured. But when I arrived, the beatings were fewer, the guards less sadistic. And then I worried for them – left behind.’

Auschwitz. A place I know. A town we once drove through on our way to Zakopane for a holiday. It was a pretty little town, and I could not imagine such a place being redesigned to suit the desires of these mad men. A place that perhaps held Katharina.

Levi told me, ‘Deaths there were more frequent, the chambers and ovens working at all hours – it was as if they couldn’t get rid of us quickly enough. Lice, they called us. Lice. Indeed, we had them – I still do!’ He laughed then. ‘Imagine thinking that another human being is like a louse? Or a rat. Indeed, I often wondered whether they had drunk some form of potion that sent their minds crazy, as I could figure no other reason for man to view man this way.’

I agreed with Levi, waiting for him to tell me more. But he did not. Instead he stood in the bunkhouse and did a funny walk, telling jokes, trying to get everyone to smile. Does he hide behind the humour? I do not know. But I am glad that he is my friend.

Chapter 27

Isaac

‘He knew Levi!’ Isaac said, interrupting Anna. ‘How I wish I had asked him more questions when he was still alive. J. A. L. could have been the gardener before Levi. I wonder if Levi knew about his writing too?’

Footsteps could be heard coming towards them and Anna hurriedly placed the papers back, then sat, awaiting the visitor.

It was Schmidt.

‘Come to take you back to the camp,’ he said.

Isaac stood at the same time as Anna.

‘No. Not you,’ Schmidt told Isaac. ‘Herr Becher wants you to keep working. He wants the cars ready in a few days.’

Unsteadily, Isaac sat back down. ‘They are almost finished.’

‘Well, almost is not complete, is it?’ Schmidt said. ‘Come on, I haven’t got all night.’

Anna followed Schmidt from the shed, giving Isaac a little wave as she closed the door behind her.