lawyer and a member of the Nazi party. He could arrange a quick divorce for me. I have money. We could try to get to Switzerland together. You need not….”
He grabbed her arms and pinned her against him to shut her up. She was crying now.
“My love there is not enough time. It would never work.”
She was nodding trying to convince herself.
“Elsa!” he snapped.
She looked up at him.
“I promise on my return that we will work out a plan for us.”
He kissed her goodbye once again at the door. She opening it only a fraction because she was semi nude. On the floor below another door creaked open slightly. An old woman’s face peering up the stairs.
Elsa closed the door quietly behind her after Koenig had disappeared around the first corner of the stairs. He went down to the next level two steps at a time and noticed a door slightly ajar. There was someone there, he could see. The door opened a crack more and he could see wrinkled cheeks.
“Good evening mother,” he called out to the unknown person just out of friendliness. Berliners these days were afraid of the sound of footsteps on their stairs.
“Heil Hitler,” the voice called out.
“Heil Hitler, “ he replied.
The door closed but not completely.
Down at the main entrance to the apartment block Koenig put his hat on, adjusted it to the angle he liked and going outside he almost collided with another man coming in.
“Sorry, Sorry,” Koenig said and as he moved back he looked at the other man. He was an SS Major.
They both saluted and Koenig left. The other officer having not spoken a word. Once outside Koenig looked back. The other man was just staring.
’The arrogance of the SS’
Elsa was retouching her make up when there was a knock at the door. She quickly threw a nylon chemise over her shoulders and ran happily to answer, laughing to herself.
“Silly Hans. He was always leaving things behind.”
She swung the door wide open.
“What have you forgotten this time….?”
She stopped dead in her tracks. It was her husband.
“Otto,” she said genuinely surprised, hoping to cover the slip.
“Forgotten?” he asked “who did you think it would be?”
“Otto you’re home.”
She ran back inside leaving him to close the door. He looked around their apartment. He hadn’t been home in weeks. She was back at her dressing table humming to herself with a pretended happiness.
“Elsa,” he called, a dangerous tone to his voice.
She was about to brush her hair but stopped. She looked at him through the mirror. She was afraid of him. He was known to lose his temper in an instant and lash out in an instant.
“Elsa,“ he called again.
She turned to face him keeping her eyes low, avoiding his face.
“I asked you who you thought I was.”
“I thought you were Mrs Drescher from the flat below.”
“The old hag shouted Heil Hitler to me as I passed her door.”
“She’s not an old hag.”
“Always poking her nose out of the crack in the door as folk are passing, nosey old bag.”
“She’s very sweet. I sometimes invite her up for tea and a cake. She’s very nice.”
Otto Wurz went over to the drinks cabinet and found a decanter of brandy and a glass.
“Do you want a drink?”
“No.”
He poured himself one. He had been drinking all of the previous night where he had been playing cards with friends. He emptied the brandy in one gulp and poured another. Elsa watched him nervously in the mirror as she continued to brush her hair.
“Nosey old hag….” he said again, most of his anger fuelled by the alcohol, aimed at the old lady who lived below.
“Mrs Drescher is a dear old lady. Did you know her son died in the first world war?”
“Pity she hadn’t gone too!”
“Otto that’s a horrible thing to say.”
“Well it’s true,” he pointed his index finger of the hand holding the glass, “you’ll see. Adolf Hitler has said that there is no room for people like her in our society. If only she was Jewish,” Otto said the drink taking him now. Elsa was afraid but didn’t show it. Now he was unpredictable.
“You’ve got her wrong. She’s just a sweet old lady who would never wish anyone any harm….”
He rounded on her.
“Why are you defending her? Has the old witch put a spell on you or something? Or maybe she’s the devil!”
“Otto, please, I don’t want to fight,” she kissed him on the cheek “It’s good that you’re home. I’ll get dressed and we can go