Behind the Bedroom Wall Read online

  Normally, Korinna would have asked where the rest of the loaf had gone, but this time she knew. It had gone to feed the enemy.

  She served herself some soup and bread and sat down at the table across from her mother.

  “Did you sleep well?” her mother asked.

  “Fine,” Korinna said. The soup, her favorite kind, tasted bland today. Jews had enjoyed it before her and had taken all the flavor and enjoyment out of it. She pushed the bowl away.

  “Do you want more? You must be hungry having missed breakfast this morning.”

  Korinna shook her head and stood up. “I have schoolwork to do,” she replied, leaving the kitchen. On her way up the stairs her stomach rumbled fiercely. She tried to ignore the empty feeling in her stomach and in her heart. The Jews had tried to take the Fatherland away from loyal Germans, and now they were trying to take her parents away from her.

  In her room, Korinna sat at her desk and stared at her open history book. Even her favorite subject didn’t interest her today. She kept glancing at her wardrobe, wondering what those awful Jews were doing back there. She knew there couldn’t be a window, or even very much space. What did they do all day? she wondered.

  She turned back to her history book. Someday this book would be entirely rewritten, thanks to Adolf Hitler. Hopefully they would take out mention of the Treaty of Versailles as if it had never happened, which, in fact, it never should have. The Treaty of Versailles was a disgrace to Germany. Imagine Germany without an army or a navy or an air force! And Jews, she knew, had played a big part in this humiliation, though she wasn’t quite sure exactly which part. But thanks to the Führer, Germany would be the power it had been before the last war, which they had somehow lost. She knew Germany would now win back its pride and power as long as the enemy, the Jews, were kept out of the way. Traitors, like her parents, too.

  Korinna finished her schoolwork as the last feeble rays of the late winter sun filtered into her room, leaving it a muddy shade of rose. She shivered in the cool air. She stood up and stretched. It was hard to sit in one position for so long.

  As she shrugged her shoulders to relieve the tension, she heard the sound she had once believed to be mice trapped in her walls. Now that she knew what the sound really was, though, she didn’t know how she ever could have thought it was mice. The sound was obviously rhythmic. Not the erratic scrambling of mice, but the even pace of someone walking back and forth. Step, step, step, turn. Step, step, step, turn. It must be a very small room, she thought. She started to walk in time to the sound of the steps. Step, step, step, turn. A very small room.

  “Korinna,” Frau Rehme called from downstairs.

  Korinna opened her door and looked down to her mother standing at the foot of the stairs. “Yes?”

  “Will you come down and help me?”

  Korinna walked downstairs, following her mother into the kitchen. “What are you cooking?” she asked, spying her kitten curled up next to her milk bowl.

  Her mother pointed to the two pots on the stove. “Potatoes here for the Krugmanns, and potatoes with cheese sauce in this pot for our supper.”

  “Why do you have to cook separately for them?” Korinna asked, not able to bring herself to say their name.

  “The Krugmanns keep kosher.”

  Korinna knew that the word kosher had something to do with the Krugmann’s religion, but she didn’t know what, and she didn’t care.

  “Kosher means they have to keep dairy products and meat separate. There’s milk and cheese with our potatoes so I have to cook them in a different pot. The Krugmanns will have plain potatoes and a little bit of beef.”

  Korinna stared at her mother. “That’s stupid!” she exclaimed.

  Frau Rehme set down her wooden spoon with an abrupt snap. “People have a right to their beliefs, Korinna,” she said sharply.

  “But you shouldn’t be working so hard for them, Mother. Why are you cooking them such a big, hot supper anyway? What’s wrong with the bread and cheese or plain leftovers we usually have?”

  “It’s so chilly outside, I thought some hot food would help warm them up before the long cold night.”

  “But they’re only Jews!” Korinna protested.

  “They’re people,” her mother said, suddenly sounding weary.

  “They’re the enemy,” Korinna countered stubbornly, “and they shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be waiting on them the way you are.”

  Frau Rehme waved the wooden spoon. “Korinna, they have nothing. Should I take away their religion, too? It’s no hardship for me to try to cook for them in a kosher manner, so why shouldn’t I? And why shouldn’t I make them a hot meal?”

  Korinna sat on a chair and pinched her lips together. It was no use talking to her mother.

  Frau Rehme sighed. “Take this tray.” She handed her daughter a tray with two bowls full of potatoes. She carried a tray with beef and carrots and glasses for water or milk. She walked to the kitchen door and looked back. “Are you coming?” her mother asked.

  Korinna calmly stood and carried the tray, following her mother up the stairs. On the outside, she knew she appeared obedient and reserved. But inside, anger roiled in her stomach like a pot of boiling soup. What was she doing? Now she was serving the enemy, waiting on them as if she were a servant or a slave!

  Staring at her mother’s back, she had a strong urge to drop the tray she carried. It would make a mess—a mess she would gladly clean up. Anything was better than catering to these Jews, the hated enemy of the Fatherland.

  But, instead, she quietly followed her mother into her bedroom, the tray still balanced carefully in her hands. Her mother pulled the wardrobe away from the wall, and Korinna smelled the cloud of confined air rush out at her—the musty smell of burning wax, stale breath, a full chamber pot, and unwashed bodies. It was the despicable stink of Jews, Korinna thought, trying to hold her breath.

  Frau Rehme took the tray from Korinna and passed it in to the Krugmanns.

  “Thank you,” Sophie said, sniffing the food appreciatively. “It looks and smells wonderful. You’re getting better at keeping things kosher,” she added.

  Korinna’s mother smiled. “I’m learning.”

  Sophie returned the smile. “Danke.” It was the first smile Korinna had seen from this woman, but it quickly disappeared as she glanced up from the opening to Korinna, standing behind her mother. She wished she had on her Jungmädel uniform.

  In the failing light, Korinna noticed the heavy circles under Frau Krugmann’s dark eyes. And her thin face looked wan, almost the color of her faded yellow bedroom walls.

  “Later I’ll bring up some hot water for you to bathe with,” Frau Rehme offered. “Give me your chamber pot and I’ll empty it now.”

  Korinna nearly gagged as Frau Krugmann passed the lidded pot out to her mother. She couldn’t bear the thought of her mother cleaning it for these abhorrent Jews. It was more than humiliating, it was hateful. But all she could do was watch as her mother lifted the heavy pot and went into the bathroom with it.

  Korinna watched Frau Krugmann eat. Should she push the wardrobe back in place, or was her mother coming right back? What if someone unexpectedly stopped by the house—would he hear the Schrank being pushed back into place and wonder about it? She looked toward the window. Shouldn’t the curtain be closed in case the Schlossers happened to look out their back window and into hers? Quickly she moved to the window and pulled the heavy curtain closed so her neighbors wouldn’t find out they lived near traitors. She clenched her teeth.

  “Hello.”

  Korinna looked back at the opening in the wall. The little girl with the curly hair poked her head out. Now Korinna could see that the hidden room glowed with candlelight.

  “Hello,” Korinna said gruffly.

  “Do you remember me?” the little girl asked shyly.

  Korinna nodded briefly.

  “My name’s Rachel. I think your hair is very pretty.”

  Korinna didn’t say anyth
ing. She didn’t want this little Jewess saying nice things to her. She turned away from the wardrobe and faced her desk.

  “Are you doing homework?” the little girl asked.

  Korinna shook her head without turning around. She lit the candle her father had left on her desk.

  “Mama, look,” Rachel said. “Her hair shines like that statue we used to have in our front hall.”

  “Yes, darling, just like bronze,” Frau Krugmann agreed softly. “Now scoot back and leave her alone.”

  Korinna heard her mother walk in with the washed out chamber pot. “Here you go, Sophie,” she said. “I’ll leave the wardrobe open to give you some fresh air, and in a little while I’ll bring up that hot water.”

  “Do you have any more paper, Frau Rehme?” Rachel asked quickly.

  Korinna’s mother paused slightly. “Perhaps my daughter has some she could give you, Rachel.”

  Korinna frowned. She didn’t want to give anything away to a Jew, not even paper.

  “Fräulein?” Rachel asked. “Do you have a little paper for me?”

  Korinna hastily pinched a few sheets from her supply and, turning around, thrust them at the girl. “Here.”

  “Oh, thank you,” Rachel gushed, her pale face lighting up with her smile. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

  “What do you want them for?” Korinna asked before she could stop herself.

  “I like to draw,” Rachel said. “Like this.” She disappeared for a second, then reappeared with a sheaf of paper clutched in her hand. “See?” She held the small bundle of paper toward Korinna. The drawings were all done with a gray pencil, so they looked rather dull and lifeless.

  Korinna knew she could simply turn her back and walk away. She didn’t have to look at this Jew’s drawings, but her hand moved forward anyway. She took the bundle and pulled off the string that held it together.

  “The first one is my house,” Rachel explained.

  The house had flowers in front of it and someone in each window, waving.

  “Can I show her?” Rachel asked Korinna’s mother.

  Frau Rehme glanced at the curtained window. “You may come out,” she said, “but Korinna has to crouch down so the people outside don’t see a lot of shadows moving about.”

  Korinna scowled at her mother. She had more important things to do than to look at these ugly drawings. She tried to catch her mother’s eyes, but her mother didn’t seem to notice.

  Rachel crawled on all fours over to Korinna, and squatted there until Korinna lowered herself to the floor. Korinna sat cross-legged and Rachel leaned over one of the older girl’s knees, pointing to the people in the windows.

  “That’s my papa. He’s with Ruth staying somewhere else. And that’s Ruth, my older sister. There’s Mama and that’s me,” she said, pointing to a face surrounded by curly hair. “My hair is like my papa’s.”

  “This is Ruth playing the piano,” Rachel continued, pulling another drawing from the pile. “She is very, very, very good. She wants to play the piano when she grows up and make people pay to come hear her play. But she said I don’t have to pay.” Rachel extracted another drawing. “And this is the apple tree in our yard. The flowers are pretty, but the apples are sour.” She made a sour face.

  Korinna bit the inside of her lip, stopping her smile just in time.

  Rachel explained every drawing in her pile, and Korinna couldn’t help noticing the wistful expression that sometimes overcame the girl’s otherwise cheerful exuberance. She had more pictures of her house and family, and of her friends and school and synagogue. Some of which, Korinna realized, the little girl would probably never see again. But that didn’t bother Korinna. After all, these were Jews, one of the enemies to the Fatherland, and they deserved to suffer.

  “My husband will be home soon,” said Korinna’s mother. She had been sitting on her daughter’s bed, watching. “You’d better get back inside in case he brings someone home with him. Sometimes he’s obliged to invite someone over for supper at the last minute,” she explained.

  Rachel scrambled back into the hideaway with her drawings and her new paper.

  “I’ll bring your water up now, before we eat,” Frau Rehme said.

  “Don’t rush,” Sophie said. “Take care of your family first. We’re not going anywhere,” she added wryly.

  Korinna’s mother smiled at the attempted joke and closed the wardrobe against the wall. She shook her head. “It’s amazing how that woman still can hold her head up and find humor in her situation after all she’s been through.” She stacked the two trays of empty dishes.

  “Do you need help carrying those downstairs?” Korinna asked, ignoring the comment about the Jewess.

  “No, thank you, Korinna, you’ve helped enough today,” Frau Rehme said thoughtfully. “You’ve helped more than you know.”

  Korinna scowled. She didn’t want any thanks for being a traitor to her Fatherland. She felt guilty enough as it was, without her mother rubbing it in. She sat down at her desk and pretended to study until she heard her mother leave the room. Then step, step, step, turn. Rachel was walking behind the wall again. Korinna slammed her book shut, creating a loud cracking sound like a gunshot she’d once heard. The walking stopped. Korinna quickly left her room and sat alone in the quiet of the front room until her father came home for supper.

  Chapter Six

  “Korinna, you’ve never not wanted to go to school,” Frau Rehme said, frowning.

  Korinna buried her face in her pillow. “I don’t feel well,” she mumbled.

  “You missed yesterday. You must go today,” her mother insisted.

  Korinna felt like screaming. Didn’t her mother understand that she couldn’t just go to school as if everything were normal? Rita would take one look at her and know she was hiding something. “I don’t feel well!”

  Now Korinna’s mother began to sound angry. “It will look suspicious if you suddenly start to miss school. You’re not sick, and you know it. Get out of bed now or you’ll be late to meet Rita.”

  Korinna groaned.

  “Now.” Her mother turned away from the bed and left the room.

  Korinna reluctantly flipped back her blankets and shivered in the cold air. She looked toward her wardrobe. Were the Krugmanns up yet? Maybe they slept most of the day since there wasn’t much they could possibly do back there.

  Quickly she got dressed. Her kitten, still unnamed, darted between her legs and kept swinging at the hem of her skirt.

  “Ouch!” Korinna exclaimed as the little rascal missed her skirt and dug a sharp claw into her leg. She bent down and picked up the kitten, hugging her close to her face. “You silly thing,” she said softly. The kitten began to purr as she stroked its fuzzy head. “I’ll play with you after school,” she promised as she deposited her new pet on her bed and gathered her schoolbooks.

  Downstairs she finished a hurried breakfast and then went to say good-bye to her mother who stood by the stove, cooking. Korinna didn’t look in the pots; she knew the food was for the Jews upstairs. Didn’t they do anything but eat? she wondered, annoyed to find her mother working so hard for the enemy. It was a miracle she hadn’t noticed all the extra cooking her mother had been doing lately, she thought.

  Frau Rehme hugged her daughter. “Have a good day at school, Korinna.”

  Korinna hugged her mother back. “I love you, Mother.” And she thought, but you’re a traitor to the Fatherland—I have to turn you in. Abruptly she pulled out of her mother’s arms. “I’m late,” she said and left the house.

  Rita was waiting impatiently at the corner. “Are you feeling better?” she asked.

  Korinna nodded. She didn’t dare say anything for fear that the whole horrible story would spill out.

  “Good,” said Rita. “Now we’d better hurry so we won’t be late. Eva went on ahead.”

  The two girls walked quickly down the sidewalk. It hadn’t snowed in a couple of days, and the sidewalks were pretty clear of snow and ice.
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  “Guess what?” Rita asked, excitement charging her voice.

  “What?”

  Rita stopped walking and turned to her friend. “The Führer is coming! There’s going to be a big parade, and our Jungmädel gets to march in it!”

  Excitement fluttered through Korinna’s stomach. “Here?” she exclaimed. “To our city? How wonderful!”

  Rita nodded, a big smile spreading across her face. “In three weeks. We’re going to make a special banner and Fräulein Schönwald is going to write a new song for the occasion.”

  Korinna walked along silently.

  “What’s wrong?” Rita asked, looking at her friend from the corners of her eyes.

  “Nothing,” Korinna said quickly.

  “I thought you’d be more excited about the news.”

  “I am excited,” Korinna said. “It’s just that ... that there’s a lot to do by then,” she mumbled.

  Rita waved her hand. “Oh, don’t worry about that. We’re going to meet everyday until then just to get ready.”

  “Great,” Korinna said, relieved that they had reached the school building.

  “I’ll talk to you at break,” Rita said as they entered their classroom.

  For a second, Korinna was startled not to see Fräulein Meiser, until she remembered that she had been taken to a work camp with her aging father. Korinna shook her head. She couldn’t understand how her teacher could have done something like that. Not that the work camps were supposed to be all that bad, but still, to give up her job and her home. It didn’t make sense to her.

  “How are you feeling?” Eva whispered as Korinna sat down next to her.

  “Better, thanks,” she replied.

  “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

  Korinna turned to her with a frown. “Yes, why?”

  Eva shrugged. “You look pale and tired.”

  “I haven’t been sleeping well lately,” Korinna said truthfully.

  “Maybe you should have stayed home another day,” Eva suggested.

  “Maybe, but my mother wouldn’t let me.” She smiled wanly. “You know mothers.”