Berlin: A Novel (15 page)

'Oh yes, Matron, I'd be glad to.'

'Good - go down to the personnel department, then, and they'll see to the paperwork. I'll ring and let them know you're coming.'

'In half an hour's time, if that's all right. I want to look in on a friend in Neurosurgery for a few moments first.'

Helga was received by a middle-aged secretary. 'The professor's expecting you.' Professor Eugen Klemm was head of the Neurosurgical department at the Charite.

'Helga . . .' He took her in his arms. 'I can't tell you how good it is to see you. How many years has it been? No, don't tell me, it'll make me seem even older. Unlike you - you haven't changed a bit.'

'Flatterer!' Warmth flooded through her, and an unassuaged longing. She drew away from him. 'You're a great man now, aren't you? What about your private life? Married? Children?'

'Married eight years, a daughter aged seven, a son aged five. And you?'

'Married for ten years, widowed a year ago, one son. Our son, Eugen.'

It was a few seconds before he took it in. 'Why didn't you tell me? It would have changed everything.'

'We had a few blissful weeks together. We never planned anything more. An ambitious, up-and-coming doctor and a little probationer nurse - it would never have worked. You wouldn't be where you are now. And I should tell you that my husband acknowledged the baby even before he was born, and I had money of my own too, so I didn't need any help.'

As simple as that?' There was a note of disappointment in his voice.

'No, Eugen, it wasn't simple. Karl's eleven now. He's a dear boy.' She hesitated, and then came out with it. 'They've taken him away from me. He's mongoloid, he doesn't fit in with today's ideas of society. They've put him in Klein Moorbach. He won't survive there without me. Help us, Eugen.'

She could see that her revelation hit him hard, but he remained calm and matter-of fact. 'Klein Moorbach is a private clinic. Its medical superintendent is Dr Ralf Urban. He is an outstanding psychiatrist and neurologist. An expert on severe mental disturbances.'

'Karl's not mad,' she said earnestly. 'Just slower to develop than other children.'

'I know,' he said. 'But, well, things are seen differently in some quarters. Klein Moorbach is a branch of the Racial Hygiene Research Institute.'

'Yes - what exactly does that mean?'

'I'd rather not go into detail. Listen, Helga, I know Urban. I can ask him to take you on as a nurse in the children's section. I'll think of some plausible reason. You'd have to use your maiden name. In no circumstances must it emerge that you're Karl's mother.'

'How do you think I can prevent that? He'll rush at me shouting "Mama!"'

'You must think of something. I can't help you there.'

And then?'

'You're a good nurse, you get on well with children. Make yourself indispensable. Stay in Klein Moorbach - with our son. I don't know how long it will be - a year, two years? But some day these horrors will be over - the Party, the Brownshirts ...'

'Eugen, you mustn't talk like that. Of course some of the things that happen aren't right - like with my tenants the Salomons. The Fiihrer doesn't know everything that goes on. But he'll make sure it turns out all right in the end.'

'Is that what you really believe?' he asked, his voice filled with pity.

An oversight in the personnel department worked to Helga's advantage. 'Heil Hitler,' the man at the registration desk greeted her. He wore a Party badge. 'Matron rang through. Let's see. It was in 1929 you left? We should still have your file. Yes, here we are - Nurse Helga Rinke from Zehlendorf, correct? Given your blonde German looks, we won't need a certificate of Aryan origin. Have any of your particulars changed? Surname, address?' Helga said no, and two days later went to the hospital to collect an identity card with a photograph, made out in her maiden name.

The summons from Klein Moorbach took a little longer. Eugen Klemm had to invent a story for Dr Urban. 'Helga Rinke is an outstanding paediatric nurse. She would certainly be useful to you at Klein Moorbach. Young and very pretty. We know each other a little - privately, if you see what I mean. Unfortunately she's been getting rather possessive. I wouldn't like my wife to be involved. In fact I'd be grateful for your help, Dr Urban, if you understand me.'

Urban did understand him. One grey Tuesday in November, Helga was standing outside the wrought-iron gates of Klein Moorbach hospital. A German shepherd dog barked inside the porter's lodge and a man with a peaked cap appeared. 'Nurse Helga Rinke. I'm expected.'

'Got a pass?'

She showed her ID, and was let in. The gates closed behind her with an ugly screech. Gravel crunched under her feet as she approached the yellowbrick building, with its barred windows.

'You've had experience in nursing children at the Charite?' Dr Ralf Urban was an elegant man in his mid-forties, and wore his tailor-made white coat buttoned high to the neck like an officer's tunic.

'Yes, sir. Dr Sauerbruch had me nursing post-operative cases in particular.'

'Surgeon General Sauerbruch,' he corrected her.

'He was a wonderful boss.'

'My colleague Klemm thinks highly of you, Nurse Helga. As you know, our little patients are not normal children. They are mentally and physically damaged.' Urban pressed a bell. 'Nurse Doris is leaving us today. She'll show you your room and take you to your ward.'

'May I ask why Nurse Doris is leaving, sir?'

The woman entering the room had heard her question. 'Because I've volunteered for a field hospital at the Front. Our brave boys there need me more than the worthless creatures in this place.' Nurse Doris was a strong young woman with nut-brown hair which she had wound around her head under her cap. She wore the Reich Sports badge on her blouse.

'Show Nurse Helga round and give her the key,' Dr Urban told her.

'Yes, sir.' Doris took Helga's arm.

'One more question, sir.'

'Yes?' Urban looked the young woman up and down.

Helga had been thinking of a way to get Karl's joyful greeting over without witnesses. 'I'd like to see my new charges on my own the first time I meet them, to make sure I establish my authority from the start.'

'What do you think, Nurse Doris?'

'Not a bad idea, sir. Then Sister Helga can show the little beasts who's in charge straight away.'

'Very well, then.' Urban immersed himself in some papers.

Nurse Doris marched ahead, leading her over the gravel of the forecourt to the side wing where the nursing staff had its accommodation. The firstfloor room was bright and welcoming, with a small bathroom and a view of the autumnal park. Helga put her case down. 'Student Nurse Evi has the room next to yours,' Doris told her. A willing young thing, but not his type.' She was relishing her words. 'You'd be more to his taste. Urban sometimes has his quirky little wishes. If you want my advice, don't be prudish. He can easily make life difficult for you.'

'Speaking from experience?' Helga couldn't help but ask.

'I'm not his sort either. I'll take you to the children's ward. Here's your key - it fits every door in the building. You must keep it on its chain and lock everything behind you. We have some very dangerous inmates here. Never forget that. And as for your own patients - well, I advise you to keep the little horrors immobilized.'

Helga wasn't listening. Karl, she thought. little Karl. Mama will soon be with you.

A steel door separated the accommodation wing from the main building. Sister Doris unlocked it, and they entered a corridor. Men in dingy grey hospital clothing shuffled slowly past, without a glimmer of comprehension in their pale faces. Two hefty male orderlies were dragging along a patient in a straitjacket who was screaming his head off. Helga forced herself not to show her dismay.

A barred door at the end of the corridor led into the stairwell. 'The children's ward is one floor higher up. I'll leave you to it now.' Doris locked the barred door behind her. Heart thudding. Helga climbed the stairs. She came to another barred door and then a long passage. Children's voices told her which way to go.

A white door with a window at the top of it, also barred. She put her key in the lock and opened it. A dreadful stench met her. 'My God.' she said, her voice toneless. Two rows of beds were lined up in military order, with children of various ages lying in them, their hands and feet tied to the bedsteads with muslin bandages. She counted twenty boys and girls at different stages of infantile dementia. Some of them looked childlike and almost normal, others showed clear symptoms of their malady, one was a bad case of hydrocephalus. They all had bedpans pushed under them and were lying in their own excrement. She could hear Doris saying, 'Keep the little horrors immobilized.'

She found her son in the last bed. His once twinkling eyes were dull, his face bloated. He didn't recognize her. She untied him and helped him up. 'Karl,' she murmured, kissing his vacant face. 'Everything will be all right now, Karl.' She hugged him tight, with a whole year of desperate struggle in her embrace. He did not react.

There was soft weeping beside her. The girl in the next bed was about twelve or thirteen. She was pretty in an odd way, and looked normal at first glance. Helga untied her. The child crept under the grubby bedclothes, her knees drawn up. 'Don't be afraid, I won't hurt you. Can you tell me your name?'

'Lisa,' said a faint voice from beneath the covers.

'Excellent, Lisa. And I'm Nurse Helga. Did you hear that, children?' she called. 'I'm Nurse Helga, but you can all call me Mama. All together now: Ma-ma.'

'Ma-ma, Ma-ma,' they babbled, until their voices came together in unison. 'Ma-ma!'

'Mama, Mama,' Karl suddenly said thickly, putting his hands out to her. He knew who she was. She hugged her son, wanting never to let go of him again, and let her tears flow freely.

Then she pulled herself together. 'Lisa, is there a bathroom here? And lavatories?' The girl climbed out of bed and pointed to a door at the back of the ward. Beyond it was a sparkling clean, white-tiled bathroom with a big tub and several showers. Next door were a lavatory and a large sink. 'Looks as if these aren't often used.'

Lisa shook her head. 'Nurse Doris wouldn't let us.'

'Well, we're going to change that.' Helga turned on one of the showers. There was plenty of hot water. 'Get undressed, get under the shower and have a good wash.' Lisa happily obeyed. Her pretty little figure was already beginning to develop. It was only if you looked closely that you could see the signs of her disturbance, which was obviously mild. There were piles of bedlinen and clean hospital clothing in a big built-in cupboard. Beaming, Lisa dressed herself again.

Karl came next. Helga soaped him down, her gestures expressing infinite love. She rubbed him dry, helped him into pyjamas and a dressing gown, and combed his wet hair. 'We'll cut that later,' she said. 'Go and strip your bed. You help him, Lisa. We'll make up all the beds with clean sheets. Now for the next child.' Helga was about to untie the bonds of a boy of about six, whose face showed signs of advanced dementia, but Lisa put a hand on her arm. 'No, don't,' she said softly. 'Hans will run wild and hurt himself.'

She washed the little boy in his bed and put clean clothes on him without undoing the soft bonds. She had experience of bedridden patients. 'Is there anyone else who had better not get up?' Lisa said no. An hour later all the children and their beds were clean, and the ward was aired. Clean bedpans were stacked under the sink in the lavatory. 'We're old enough to go to the loo now by ourselves,' Helga announced cheerfully.

Her loving glances kept returning to her son. He had grown taller and older, yet he still seemed like a little boy. She knew he would never develop beyond the mental age of six, and would live only until he was about twenty. Dr Weiland had gently explained that to her soon after the birth, and she had found confirmation in medical textbooks.

He nestled close to her. 'Mama, Mama. . .' ama ...' All the children came crowding around her. 'Mama ... Mama ...' their little voices babbled.

There was a rattling of keys. It was Nurse Doris, and she had a man in a white coat with her. Ah yes, at first you think you can improve everything here - but believe me, they're still little monsters.'

'Left wallowing in their own filth.'

Nurse Doris shrugged, without showing any interest. 'Do as you like. My stint here is over. This is Herr Gotze, our ward orderly.'

Helga shook his hand vigorously. 'Pleased to meet you, Herr Gotze.' She looked at the time. It was midday. 'Where do the children eat?'

'We feed them in their beds. Then they can only get themselves dirty,' explained Doris, with indifference.

'Perhaps you'd rather take them to the dining room?' suggested Gotze, earning himself a venomous glance from Doris.

'Oh yes, I would, Herr Gotze,' replied Helga, pleased. And I'm sure you can tell me if there's a village inn here? We could all go and have a drink - to celebrate my arrival.'