Berlin: A Novel Read Free Page B

light. 'Come on, Mutzi. That silly dachshund's back on its lead.' He picked up the frightened animal, which had dug its claws into the eiderdown so hard that the quilt came up with it, revealing the saddle of a motorbike. Carefully, the boy freed the kitten's claws and put the eiderdown back in place. Then he scrambled into the daylight with his protege.
'There you are.' Ben greeted him reproachfully. 'Where's your place in the queue?'
'Behind that woman with the green headscarf.' Ralf let the kitten go and strolled away. Reluctantly, Ben took his slot in the queue. He hated standing in line.
He cut the waiting short by imagining a man in a white jacket with a steaming pan full of sausages slung on a tray in front of him, like that time on the Wannsee bathing beach. He had been very small then, and it was before the war. He could almost hear the squelch as the man squirted mustard on the paper plate from a squeezy bottle. It made a delightfully rude noise.
His mother arrived around six. Gritscher the master cobbler had repaired Ralf's sandals for the umpteenth time. 'That man works miracles,' she told the woman next to her. 'Off you go and do your homework,' she said, turning to her son. And take your brother with you.'

'What'll it be, Frau Dietrich?' Winkelmann beamed at her over the counter, looking healthy and well fed. He had direct access to all good things.
A loaf of bread, 150 grams of powdered egg and the extra margarine ration. Can you let me have the powdered egg as an advance on next week's rations?'
'I'll have to ask the boss about that. Come here a moment, will you, Frau Kalkfurth?'
Martha Kalkfurth had dark hair with strands of grey in it, and a smooth, round, ageless face with a double chin. She sat heavily in her wheelchair, steering it skilfully past sacks of dried potato and cartons filled with bags of ersatz coffee.
'Can Frau Dietrich have 150 grams of powdered egg in advance?'
'Please, Frau Kalkfurth, it's only until Monday when the new ration cards begin.'
Martha Kalkfurth shook her head. 'No special favours from me, even if your husband is with the police.' She turned the wheelchair and went back into the room behind the shop.
Ben found his brother outside the Yanks' ice cream parlour. One of the soldiers was leaning down to hand him a large portion of ice cream. Ralf was a successful beggar; few could resist his angelic face. The two boys scooped up the chocolate and vanilla ice on their way home, using the wafers that came with it. Life was OK.

The soft strains of'Starlight Melody' drifted out of Club 48, combining with the tempting aroma of grilled steaks to arouse impossible longings in the Germans hurrying by. The US Engineers had put the building together from prefabricated components in three days, and within a week it was completely fitted out with a kitchen, cocktail bar, tables and dance floor.
The commandant of the American sector of Berlin, a two-star general from Boston, had handed over the club to the private soldiers and NCOs, dancing the first dance with his wife before withdrawing with relief to the nearby Harnack House. where the commissioned officers and upper ranks of civilian staff drank dry martinis.

Jutta Weber, a pretty blonde aged thirty, worked in the kitchen of the Club. She peeled potatoes, washed dishes. and heaved around the heavy pots and pans used by Mess Sergeant Jack Panelli and his cooks to concoct hearty, unsophisticated dishes from their canned and frozen supplies.
At just before eleven she set off for home. Her bicycle light barely illuminated her way back along Argentinische Allee. The buildings were in darkness; there would he no electricity in this part of town until three in the morning. The coal shortage and the state of the turbines in the city power stations, half of them destroyed in air raids, made power rationing essential. Next came Steglitz. A pedestrian emerged from the darkness. Jutta rang the bicycle bell on her handlebars, making a shrill sound, but