Ice Cold (5 page)

Interrogation of Josef Kalteis, continued

– My wife Walburga, she comes from the same place as what I do, she’s from Aubing too. Her old man is with Reich Railways, same as me.

– When exactly did I get to know her? Can’t rightly remember no more. She was in the same class as my sister at school, she lived in our neighbourhood.

– One evening, I was at an inn, having a drink after work. So on my way home I see this girl in front of me. I kind of felt I knew her, so I walked a bit faster, wanted to see who it was. When I’d caught up with her I saw it was Walburga. I thought to myself, where’s she off to, then?

– Yes, I was curious. So I went on following her. When I saw she was crying I spoke to her. I hate to see a woman crying. Never could abide it.

– Anything wrong, I asked her, what was the matter? She told me to leave her alone. But she didn’t try to shake me off, I just went on beside her. Well, I says to myself, you can’t let the girl alone now, not crying like that. So then she told me about it, it was love troubles. How she’d been walking out with a man and she’d quarrelled with him that day. He was forever blowing hot and cold. That’s why she was crying.

– I went on walking with her for a while because I felt sorry for her.

– I told her men aren’t all the same, there’s lots of good fish in the sea. That made her laugh, because her granny was always telling her the same.

– Then I saw her again a few weeks later, out bathing.

– I recognized her at once, and seeing she was all alone again I sat down with her. And we talked all afternoon.

– I took her home, she didn’t live far from me anyway. And we made a date for next Sunday.
Or maybe it was the Saturday, can’t remember now.

– We went out into the woods with our bikes.

– Then we went for a walk. After a while we stopped for a rest, and she sat down beside me. Sitting on the grass. I offered her one of my cigarettes, and we smoked.

– Yes, we talked. We was sitting there and, well, she was the one began necking.

– But I never did get much out of just necking. So I, well, played about with her. She got wilder and wilder. I had an idea she liked it, honest, so I just went on.

– She didn’t say nothing to stop me. Nor when I’d took her knickers off. She wound her legs around me. Wound them around me good and tight. And she said ooh, that felt so good. She started moaning. Well, kind of moaning and groaning. And she held me tighter with her legs. She was mad for it. Walburga was a real goer. Oh yes, a goer. I’d never been with a girl like that before. I enjoyed it. Honest, I enjoyed it.

– After that it was a few weeks before I saw her again.

– Not till she came to see me and said she’d fallen for a baby, then I saw her again.

– So we married when she was up the spout again. Last day of December, 31 December 1937.

– I asked around. I asked a fellow I know in the Party, and I asked at the Youth Office. They said it would be best to marry, seeing as I was the father of the children. I’d be better off that way. On account of the payments and that.

– With the first kid she went and got my wages
seized because I hadn’t paid up on the dot, and I didn’t want no more of that. So then, well, I married her.

He didn’t come home from his shift till very late that morning, I remember that. Could’ve been around quarter to five. It wasn’t anything unusual, he was often very late home from work.

Not that I asked why. It was fine by me, him coming home so late.

His clothes were all dirty – ‘from work’, that’s what he told me. He undressed and washed at the kitchen tap. Then he sat down at the table to eat his breakfast. I’d made it by then, same as always. I mean, I knew what would happen once he’d finished his breakfast.

He’d grab hold of me by the wrist, haul me over to the kitchen table, or the sofa, or just push me up against the door. He’d hold me there with one hand, press the whole weight of his body up against me so as I couldn’t hardly move, he’d grope under my nightie with the other hand. Spreading my legs, really rough-like. Push himself inside me without
wasting no time. No feelings, no affection, so rough and violent I was getting worse and worse scared. Every time.

I’d close my eyes and keep still, didn’t want to get him even more excited. There was times he let go of me, sudden-like, before he came. Then he’d slag me off for being so cold and not moving, no passion, he said, no wildness. He’d have to get his satisfaction somewhere else, he’d say, if he didn’t fancy just bringing himself off.

When he was in bed that day, 30 September 1938, it was, I plucked up all my courage and asked him for more housekeeping money.

The money simply wouldn’t stretch, I said. He’d have to give me more if I was to get all those things. Even the monthly rent for our little apartment comes to twenty-five Reichsmarks, and then there was instalments to pay on the furniture we’d bought, and the little boys had to eat too, they needed clothes. However careful I was with the housekeeping money, I said, however hard I watched every penny I spent, those twenty-five marks a week housekeeping just weren’t enough.

All of a sudden he threw back the covers of the bed, shouting. Jumped right out of bed and went for me. I hadn’t expected it. I mean, I didn’t think he’d turn so violent. I just stood there. Couldn’t
hardly move a muscle. I stood there hearing him shouting and carrying on.

He never had a moment’s peace in this place, he shouted, what more did I want, wasn’t I satisfied with ruining his life already? Forcing him into a marriage he’d never wanted. And all because of that little bastard.

He kicked the cot where the baby was lying. He kept on kicking it and kicking it. It wasn’t till then I managed to move again. I ran to the baby. To protect him.

That’s when the blow hit me. He punched me right in the face. I hadn’t seen him coming, just felt his fist punching my face, and the blood running slowly down my nose, all warm.

It wasn’t till then the pain came. And my anger. The force of that blow had thrown me on the bed, I wanted to get up, I was trying to defend myself. But even before I was on my feet he hit me again. I fell back on the bed.

‘Next time you can bloody stay lying there. You won’t move no more, you and your bastards!’

And with that he turned, put on clean clothes and went out of the house.

All this time I just sat there dumbstruck, watching him.

It was after that I packed up the bare necessities.
Took the two screaming kids and left the place before he could get back.

I went to my parents with the children. That same day I went off to Munich on my own to file for divorce. I didn’t care about the people on the train looking at me. Some of them kind of sideways, others staring straight at my swollen face. I couldn’t hardly see out of my eyes.

Interrogation of Josef Kalteis, continued

– Me, hit my wife? I never hit my wife, never.

– Well, I may have given her a little push. Yes, I guess I gave her kind of a little push.

–I don’t go hitting no women, if that’s what she said – did she say that? Did she say I beat her? If she did it’s a lie. It’s a bloody lie.

–She kept wanting more money off of me. Kept on and on nagging, wanting more, said she couldn’t keep house with it. I mean, twenty-five Reichsmarks, anyone can get by on that, right? Twenty-five marks a week, that’s plenty. But she was always wanting more. Money, money, money, more all the time! So I clocked her. Nagging like that, it got on my nerves. Well, so when I couldn’t stand it no more I clocked her one. That’s all. Just to make her shut up. Just to keep her quiet.

It was late afternoon when I got back from Munich on the train. I’d been to that office where you file for divorce, and I did it. The fellow there was nice enough not to look straight in my beat-up face when he was filling out the forms. I was really grateful to him for that.

I had to go back to the apartment. I needed a few more things for the kids. And for me. Things I’d left behind, I’d had to leave them behind in the morning. I’d been so scared he might come straight back.

I didn’t like to go into the apartment at once. Didn’t dare. So I went to my mum and dad’s place first. I waited there till I could be sure he was on the way to his night shift. Then I set off for the apartment. Late at night, it was.

There wasn’t no light in the windows, the place was quiet. I’d waited outside the door for a bit, listening. I didn’t want to run into him. It wasn’t
till I felt sure of myself I put the key in the keyhole and opened the door of the apartment.

Just for a split second all my fears came back. I was sure, certain sure, I’d double-locked the door when I left in the morning. And now I’d only had to turn the key ever so slightly. The door wasn’t locked, it had just swung back on to the latch and snapped shut.

He’d been here during the day. Noticed I’d packed up some of my things, then he simply left the door unlocked behind him. There wasn’t anyone in the place. I hesitated, then I went in.

Everything was dark, there wasn’t no light except a little falling into the corridor from the stairwell. I didn’t want to close the door. It felt safer that way.

The door to the bedroom was closed, like the door to the kitchen-living-room. Suddenly the apartment didn’t seem familiar any more. It was threatening-like.

I stood there in the corridor, didn’t know what to do, wanted to turn back. Hesitated. Made myself stay. Ever so carefully I opened the kitchen door. Didn’t dare switch on the light in there. The room was dark, there was only the light from the street coming in through the window. The curtains wasn’t drawn.

The kitchen looked like usual, nothing seemed different since I left it.

Everything was in its right place. Only the dresser drawer was open. I went over, took a look. Was there two knives missing? I couldn’t be sure. Decided next moment not to think about it. Packed a few things up.

I had to go back into the bedroom, there was clothes I needed for me and the kids.

I looked round the kitchen one last time, then I left the room. Crossed the little corridor to the bedroom.

I slowly pressed the handle of the bedroom door down. Didn’t want to make no noise. Opened the door just a crack at first. It creaked ever so slightly. I stood still, listening in the dark. Everything was quiet. I took a deep breath, pulled myself together and opened the door wide.

Just as I was feeling safe I heard that noise.

It was a soft hissing noise. You couldn’t hardly hear it. But it came from inside the room. I was sure it came from inside the room, from the corner by the bedroom wardrobe. With only the open door and a few paces between me and it. I stopped, held my breath, didn’t move a muscle.

I didn’t dare go a step further. That sound, that weird sound had brought back all the fears I’d been
controlling so carefully.

I slowly backed out of the room without so much as a squeal. Backed along the corridor. Never taking my eyes off the open bedroom door, I reached for my bag. I’d left it beside the kitchen door. Still without a sound, listening for noises in the dark – oh, I felt that strung up – I snatched up the bag and made for the open front door, still walking backwards.

It wasn’t till I was in the stairwell I turned round and ran down those stairs as fast as I could go. Ran on and on, all the way back to my parents’ place. It wasn’t till I was back there I calmed down and the fear ebbed away.

Then I didn’t hear no more from him for weeks – weeks after I’d left the apartment on 30 September. I was back in my old room at my mum and dad’s, with the children. Then there he was all of a sudden, beginning of November. The doorbell rang, I opened the front door, and there he was in front of me.

He looked terrible, he said he was sorry for the whole thing.

I was to stop the divorce going through, he said, and come back home with the kids. ‘It won’t do,’ that’s what he said. And he wouldn’t beat me no
more, he’d promise me, he’d swear by the Holy Virgin. He’d swear never to beat me again.

I’ll admit, I wasn’t too sure at first. But the way he kept on at me, trying so hard to persuade me, well, I let him bring me round to the idea after all. I mean, I knew I couldn’t stay in my old room at my parents’ place for good, not with the two boys. And there was something I hadn’t told anyone yet: I knew I was up the spout again. So I packed my things, put the boys in the handcart and went back to him and our old apartment.

Then I went and lost the baby a few weeks later. Can’t say I was too sad about it. This way the poor little mite’s been spared something, I comforted myself.