Too Many Men (52 page)

“Are you about to asphyxiate yourself?” Ruth said. She laughed. “I didn’t think you’d be so badly affected by the mention of her name. Many other people knew you were having an affair with this prisoner. They said she was Italian, but the name seems more Hungarian to me.”

T O O M A N Y M E N

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“This prisoner worked in my home,” Höss said finally. He had managed to muster up a touch of indignation in his voice.

“I’m glad you didn’t choke to death, just then,” Ruth said. “Can dead people choke to death?”

“Of course,” Höss said. “This prisoner worked in our house, for my wife and me.”

“I know that,” Ruth said. “But she did more. Or rather you did more, to her. I’m not sure she had much of a say in the matter.”

“How dare you speak to me like this?” Höss said.

“How dare I tell you the truth?” Ruth said. “I think it’s pretty bold of me, too. I was much more frightened of you, in the beginning. You were disgusting to Eleonore Hodys,” Ruth said. “You fucked her whenever you pleased. It was easy, as Hedwig liked to tend the garden, and the acts never took you too long.”

“How dare you!” Höss shouted.

“Stop shouting,” Ruth said, “These are not the good old days. If you keep shouting I’ll kick you so hard you’ll never recover.” Where had those words come from? Ruth thought. Those threats? Did she have more power than she knew over Höss?

“You became worried about the rumors that were growing about what you were doing to Eleonore Hodys,” Ruth said. “So you shipped her off to a penal company. The sort of penal company that ensured death for its workers within weeks. But she didn’t die. And you started to miss her, didn’t you? You didn’t miss her, just her body parts, really.”

“I have listened to these accusations for long enough,” Höss said.

“They’re not accusations,” Ruth said. “Just facts. You missed Eleonore Hodys’s arms and legs and breasts and genitals, so you had her shipped back. And still Hedwig suspected nothing.”

“Mrs. Höss was above such thoughts,” Höss said.

“Mrs. Höss was not above much else,” Ruth said. “She made sure she was never short of the things she loved most, pure cream, cocoa, the best cuts of meat, margarine, macaroni. She was probably too busy eating to worry about who you were fucking.”

“I am not listening,” Höss said.

“I think you have to,” said Ruth. “I have a feeling the decision to listen is not up to you.”

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L I L Y B R E T T

“What are you talking about?” Höss said.

Ruth didn’t answer. She didn’t know why she had said that. It was a feeling that had suddenly inhabited her. The feeling that Höss’s participation in all of this was not quite as voluntary as it seemed. That he couldn’t quite come and go as he pleased. He was locked in, in much the same way as she was. That thought made her feel sick.

“You had Eleonore Hodys put into Block 2,” Ruth said. “Not just Block 2, but the airless dungeons of Block 2. And there, in that small, sti-fling, blackened cell, you fucked her to your heart’s content. You made sure, of course, afterward, that you straightened every part of your crushed uniform and repositioned your cap. I understand why you didn’t want to remove your clothes. You never knew where these prisoners’ bodies had been. You were always worried about rashes and other symptoms of your illicit sex appearing. You ordered the guards to wash Miss Hodys down before your visits.” Ruth paused. “I’m glad you’re not saying anything,” she said to Höss. “I’m glad you’re not trying out the ‘my wife didn’t understand me’ line. That’s a relief.”

“My wife and I were very happy,” Höss said in a quiet voice.

“You were not as devoted a family man as you wanted to be,” Ruth said.

“You risked infecting Hedwig with lice or fleas.”

“I did not,” Höss barked. “I always showered after those episodes.”

Höss sounded as though he was about to implode. “Where did you hear that about Eleonore Hodys?” he said.

“It was common knowledge,” Ruth said. “The guards used to say, ‘Mr.

Whiter than White is coming to do his dirty business,’ when they knew you were due to arrive in the dungeons. They also called you Mr. Holier Than Thou, Mr. Incorruptible. I’m not sure if Hedwig ever heard those terms.”

“Leave Mrs. Höss out of this.”

“Well, you left her out, didn’t you? You didn’t let her know how frequently you were turning up to get stuck into poor Eleonore.” Humphing noises came from Höss. Ruth knew he was fuming. And red-faced. She could feel the volume of his anger. “You contemplated leaving Eleonore Hodys there to starve to death, once you learned that she was pregnant,”

Ruth said.

“How did I know whose child she was carrying?” Höss spluttered.

“What a joke,” Ruth said. “As though anyone else would have dared T O O M A N Y M E N

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touch her. And why pretend you even thought of the pregnancy as a child?

‘Up the chimney with her,’ you said to the guard. You ordered her gassed.”

“It was for the best,” said Höss.

“But you were out of luck,” Ruth said. “Or stupid. You had reported Max Grabner, the chief of Block 2, for having an affair with a prisoner.

Grabner couldn’t believe his luck when he found out about you and Eleonore Hodys. He went straight to the SS judge investigating him and informed on you.”

“So that is what happened,” Höss said.

“You mean you didn’t know?” she said to Höss. What did this mean?

The fact that she was telling Höss about his own life. It meant nothing. It meant that she was well informed about a subject of mutual interest. She felt exhausted. She was probably more wrung out than Höss.

“You have interrupted me too often with these lies,” Höss said.

“You can’t call them lies after you’ve admitted to them,” Ruth said.

What a stupid thing to say, she thought. As though anything about Höss had to be logical. “They didn’t punish you for the infraction, anyway,”

Ruth said. “You were too valuable.”

“Why are you going to Auschwitz?” Höss said. Ruth was too tired to answer. She still didn’t know the answer, anyway. “My family were, without doubt, able to live very well, in Auschwitz,” Höss said. “Every wish that my wife could wish was granted to her.”

“Except your fidelity. Or maybe she didn’t care about that. She had so much at Villa Höss. What’s a spot of infidelity next to a garden of flowers, and the endless servants and the adorable children and the household pets?”

“My children loved their two horses and the foal was particularly beloved,” Höss said. “Today I very deeply regret that I was not able to devote more time to my family.”

“It was possibly for the best, when you look at the results of what you did devote most of your time to,” Ruth said. “Possibly your children were better off away from your influence.”

“Are you being insolent?” Höss said. The military tone had returned to his voice.

“No,” Ruth said. “Just reflective. Thoughtful. Trying to be helpful.”

“Really?” said Höss.

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L I L Y B R E T T

“Tell me, just one last thing,” Ruth said. “Did Hedwig know about poor Eleonore Hodys?” Höss bellowed and snorted. All sorts of incomprehensible sounds came out of him.

“I refuse to speak any further to you!” he shouted. Ruth laughed. She felt light-headed.

“I don’t care,” she said. “I have to go anyway.”

Chapter Thirteen

D
o you feel all right?” Ruth said to Edek. Edek was standing over the buffet in the smaller of the dining rooms in the Hotel Mimoza. An entire shoal of sardines and a school of herring were already on Edek’s plate for breakfast. She had thought that he looked a little pale.

She needn’t have asked him if he was all right, she thought. She could have just checked out his breakfast selection. Anyone who was even slightly unwell would not have been able to contemplate a meal that would have depleted the nearest ocean of half of its inhabitants.

Edek added some pickled onions and black peppercorns from the pickling juice of the herring.

“I am one hundred percent,” he said.

“Did you sleep well?” she said.

“I did sleep perfect,” he said. He looked at Ruth. “You look shocking,”

he said.

“I’m just a bit tired,” she said.

“You are doing too much of that running,” Edek said. Ruth wished she hadn’t brought up the subject of well-being. “It is not normal just to run,”

Edek said. “To run and run and run. If you are late for something you have to run, of course. But just to run and run and run.” He shook his head. “It is not good for you,” he said.

Ruth felt annoyed. She decided not to bother trying to bolster her case

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L I L Y B R E T T

for the benefits of running by quoting the American Surgeon General or any one of a number of leading advocates for exercise. She didn’t think Edek would be swayed by the opinion of any individual or organization.

Maybe if Golda Meir had been an advocate for exercise, Edek might have listened. He had held Golda Meir in very high esteem. He had admired everything about her. But the American Surgeon General was not Golda Meir. His opinion would cut no ice with Edek. Cut no ice. What a strange phrase, she thought. Where did it come from? Who had invented it? Why had they been trying to cut ice?

Edek interrupted her small reverie. “You should listen to me,” he said.

“You been doing too much running.”

“Running is very good for you,” Ruth said.

“If it is so good for you,” Edek said, “why do you look shocking?”

“I don’t look shocking,” Ruth said. She patted her hair down. Maybe her hair was sticking out. She thought that her father was probably right.

More than her hair needed fixing.

“Have some rollmops,” Edek said.

“I couldn’t eat herring for breakfast,” Ruth said, grimacing at the thought of the rolled-up pickled herring marinated with onions and whole black peppercorns entering her empty stomach.

“You would feel much better if you was a person who could eat a herring for breakfast,” Edek said.

“Maybe I’ll mature into one,” Ruth said, with what she hoped was a touch of sarcasm in her voice.

Edek wasn’t put off by the sarcasm. He was clearly convinced of the value of herring. Even on an empty stomach.

“Have just one piece,” he said to her.

“I couldn’t, Dad,” she said.

“This bird stuff what you eat is not enough,” Edek said. “Birds are very small. They sit all day in a branch. This bird stuff is enough for them. You need food what normal people eat.”

“Dad, give me a break,” she said. “I’m tired.”

“That is what I am talking about,” he said. “Since we been in Poland, you been always tired. Eat a piece of herring.”

“Maybe tomorrow, Dad,” she said.

“Okay, okay,” he said.

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He wandered off to the other end of the buffet. “Look what they got here,” he called out to her. Ruth walked over to him. He was pointing to a very large sausage. A type of salami. “This
vurst
is very good,” Edek said. “I did eat this sort of
vurst
in Melbourne when Mum was alive.”

“Mum let you eat this sort of fatty sausage?” Ruth said.

“When we did have visitors, she did let me eat some
vurst,”
he said.

Ruth knew well that all of Rooshka’s efforts to restrict Edek’s diet had amounted to nothing. Edek ate what she wanted him to eat in front of her, and what he wanted to eat when he was out of Rooshka’s sight.

Edek ignored the circles of already sliced sausage, on the platter. He picked up a serrated bread knife and sawed off a large slab of the still-intact sausage. Ruth winced. She thought the unsliced sausage was probably meant to be purely decorative. “I don’t like it when it is in such thin pieces,” Edek said, looking at the circles of sliced salami.

“You’ve got to admire your father’s digestive system,” Garth used to say to Ruth. “He eats whatever he likes. He never feels ill and he stays more or less the same weight.” Ruth’s standard reply to this had been that a bit less rather than a bit more of the weight that Edek maintained himself at would be better. It was never a serious reply. She knew that Edek wasn’t very overweight. And he loved his food. Why was she thinking about Garth? She shook her head to shrug off these thoughts. Garth was part of the past. And she was dealing with as much of the past as she could tolerate right now.

“That’s it for me,” Edek said. Ruth looked at his plate. Every inch of space on the plate was occupied. Edek couldn’t possibly have added anything else. The contents were already built up. The sardines were in a stack and so was the herring.

“Take something for yourself, please,” Edek said to her. His voice sounded a bit nasal.

“Have you got a cold?” she said.

“No, just a bit of a running nose,” Edek said. “It is nothing.”

“Are you sure?” she said to Edek.

“I do get like this, a small cold once or twice every winter,” Edek said.

“And it is winter, in Poland.”

“Do you have a sore throat?” she said.

“No,” he said.

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L I L Y B R E T T

“Are you sure?” Ruth said.

“Of course I am sure,” Edek said. He looked at her. “This is a normal small cold what I have,” he said. “Please, Ruthie, have something to eat.

Have an egg.”

Ruth nearly retched at the thought of an egg. “I’ll have some yogurt,”

she said. She thought that yogurt might settle her stomach. Her stomach definitely needed settling. “I’m going to have some yogurt and some toast,”

she said to Edek. Edek rolled his eyes. He added a helping of cream cheese to his plate. It sat, like a plank, on top of the pickled onions.

Edek took his breakfast to their table. Ruth toasted some white bread in the toaster the hotel provided for guests. Toast wasn’t a Polish thing. It wasn’t very American either. Americans ate strange things for breakfast.