Frankie's Letter - By Dolores Gordon-Smith Page 0,5
chair and walked towards the door. Mr Kolhmeyer.
Mr Kolhmeyer wasn’t built for speed but even if he’d moved like greased lightning it was doubtful if he would have seen Anthony, the rate he got across the hall and into the dining room.
He stood with his back to the closed door, looking at the dining room. The room was, thank God, empty. It was dominated by a solid table with a green plush tasselled cloth and smelled of cooked cabbage. In the alcove stood an equally solid bureau. His first thought was to get out of the window but the sight of the bureau made him pause. He opened the oak lid and there, as he had hoped, were the Kohlmeyers’ identity papers.
Anthony had a twinge of conscience as he pocketed Mr Kolhmeyer’s papers, but the chance to get a genuine pass was too good to be missed. Now for it.
He pulled back the heavy velvet curtain covering the sash window and waited. He had his hands on the sash when he heard the tramp of feet. Three soldiers marched by. He waited until the sound of their boots had faded, took a deep breath, mentally crossed his fingers that the window wouldn’t stick, and heaved.
Miraculously, the window shot up with only the smallest of squeaks. He bundled himself outside and walked away.
TWO
It wasn’t simple chance which had lead Anthony to pick Frau Kappelhoff’s house. Not only was it near enough to the university to fit in with his role as a visiting tutor, but it was less than three quarters of a mile from the Handelshafen where the merchant ships docked. It seemed, as he walked away quickly from the Kolhmeyers, that even that short distance might cause him some problems. Anthony knew they were looking for him but there were, he thought, a couple of things in his favour. Kiel was poorly-lit because of the wartime restrictions on fuel and he had a good knowledge of the less frequented routes through town.
The further he got, the more his spirits rose. The rain and the cold had cleared all idlers from the streets and he took care to slip into the shadows when he heard anyone approach. There were still large numbers of troops about, but, as he saw with relief, even the Kaiser’s soldiers were ordinary men and preferred, on this dismal evening, to keep their coat collars up and stay, when not under the eye of a superior officer, under what shelter they could find. He knew the places he had to be on his guard and managed to slip by four danger spots unnoticed.
He was making for The Mermaid on Jensenstrasse off the Katserasse, which ran the whole length of the merchant dock. It was at the corner of the Thaulow Museum, with Jensenstrasse only yards away, that he met his first real obstacle. Two sailors, armed with rifles, were standing forlornly in the rain. After a few minutes of watching them from the shadows, Anthony decided to retrace his steps and approach Jensenstrasse by another route. It was just bad luck that one of the sailors glanced up as he moved.
‘Halt!’ the sailor called.
Anthony reluctantly came into the open. He had no hat, no overcoat and was filthy from his climb over the roofs. His wet clothes clung to him and he looked, he thought, like an absolute scarecrow. His only choice was to brazen it out.
He swayed gently on the spot as they approached, fixing them with a delighted, glassy beam. ‘Hullo.’
‘Your papers, sir,’ said the sailor who had shouted for him to stop.
‘Papers. Papers, papers, papers,’ repeated Anthony in an alcoholic way. ‘I had ’em when I came out.’ He saw the sailors swap knowing looks. ‘Never go out without m’papers.’
He started a painfully deliberate search through his pockets and pulled out an old letter. ‘Here we are. No it’s not.’ He stared glassily at the sailors. ‘M’wife’s a harsh woman. Out, she said. Am I drunk? No. All I had was a tiny little drop, just a tiny schnapps, but out! No coat, no hat, just out! Her and her mother.’
The sailors grinned, but persisted. ‘Your papers, sir.’
He laboriously searched his pockets again and this time produced Mr Kolhmeyer’s card. If the theft had been reported he was for it. He stuck his thumbs into the lapels of his jacket in an expansive way, staggered and fell back against the wall. The sailors’ grins increased and Anthony breathed a silent prayer of thanks.