Behind the Bedroom Wall

Table of Contents

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Let's Have a Party
series
Mystic Lighthouse Mysteries
series

 

 

 

 

Thanks go to the many people who gave their time, advice,
and knowledge in the shaping of this book.

 

Special thanks go to the people at Milkweed Editions
for all they've done, and to Leopold and Maria Sans
for their memories.

 

Thanks also to my agent, Edy Selman, who is lavish with
her praise and honest with her criticism.

“Jew-lover!” spat the tall, blond Gestapo officer, pushing Herr Haase toward the car. Herr Haase, wearing no jacket or shoes against the February cold, slipped on a patch of ice and fell.

Frau Haase stood in the open doorway of her house. Her two children clutched her skirt, watching their father with wide, tear-filled eyes.

“Get up, Jew-lover!” said a second officer, his dark leather boots glinting in the fading evening light. He kicked the fallen man. “Get up or I'll shoot you now just to get it over with,” he threatened.

Herr Haase slowly rose to his knees, one arm clamped to his side where he had been kicked. On the icy snow where his head had rested, a patch of red stained the whiteness.

“Faster!” the first officer commanded. He nudged Herr Haase with his boot so that the prisoner faltered again before he finally struggled to his feet.

Three girls stood on the opposite side of the road, watching, their blue and white
Jungmädel
uniforms hidden under their heavy woolen coats.

“Isn't Hans handsome?” Rita asked proudly, as her tall, blond brother viciously kicked Herr Haase again.

“I think it's just awful,” Eva whispered, her voice quivering slightly. “Why are they beating poor Herr Haase? What's he done wrong?”

Korinna shifted her bulky book bag from one frozen hand to the other. “They're calling him a Jew-lover.”

“Who'd want to hide a stinking Jew? Besides, he'd be dead already if he'd been hiding a Jew,” Rita said. “I heard Hans tell Papa they're supposed to shoot first and ask questions later. Herr Haase must have been seen talking to a Jew.”

“How can it be so terrible just to be talking to a Jew?” Eva asked, shaking her head, her short, dirty blond hair swinging against her cheeks.

Rita looked at her sideways, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You don't see anything wrong with it?” she asked, forgetting to keep her voice down. “Jews are the enemy! They are the root of all our problems. Without them Germany will be strong!”

Korinna nodded absently in agreement, even as she winced as one of the officers shoved Herr Haase toward the car.

Eva kicked at a mound of snow. “I don't think—”

“My brother wouldn't arrest just anyone,” Rita interrupted, flipping her long, blond braid over her shoulder like a whip. “Herr Haase is a traitor to Germany. He's been fooling everyone into thinking he's a nice man by giving extra meat from his butcher shop to the poor people, but that was just a cover-up. He's a traitor, or why would they arrest him?”

She pointed across the street as though to prove her point. The Gestapo officers pushed Herr Haase into the back of the car.

Korinna suddenly remembered the hard candies the butcher had always given her when she used to visit his shop with her mother before the war had started. Pity for him welled up in her. Immediately she squashed it. He must be an enemy for Hans to be arresting him, she told herself firmly. It would be un-German of her to pity a traitor.

The car roared off. Without a word, Eva turned from her two comrades and fled down the street through the thickening gloom.

Rita shook her head. “Eva's stupid. One day, someone is going to turn her in for being un-German. She almost sounds like a Jew-lover herself.”

“Leave her alone,” Korinna said to her best friend. “You know how Eva is. She cries when someone kills a wasp. She'll get over this.”

Rita shrugged. “She's a baby. When the Führer makes Germany strong again, and we can all hold up our heads, she won't feel so sorry for those Jew-lovers.”

Korinna stomped her feet to warm them up. “You're right, but I'm freezing. Let's go.”

Rita smiled and took Korinna's arm. For a moment, they walked quietly arm in arm. Then Rita said, “Wasn't our meeting fun today?”

Korinna laughed. “You looked so funny with all that flour in your hair.”

Rita grinned. “Don't worry, I'll get Ute back at our next meeting. I wonder how she'll look with flour in her hair, and all over her uniform, too!”

“You wouldn't!” Korinna said with a gasp.

Rita just looked at her and laughed.

“Poor Ute,” Korinna moaned. “The poor girl didn't know what she was starting.”

Still laughing, Rita said, “Did you ask your mother if you could come over for dinner?”

Korinna nodded. “But she said you should come over to our house instead. Sometime this week.”

Rita squeezed her arm. “I'd like that. Your mother is the best cook around.”

When they came to the corner where they parted, they simply waved at each other. Best friends didn't need to say anything, Korinna thought as she walked home. And Rita had been her best friend for two years now, ever since they had both turned eleven and discovered that their birthdays were in the same week.

Rita was like the sister she'd always wanted. They shared all their secrets and dreams. They shared everything. But, of course, that's what best friends were for.

“Mother, I'm home!” Korinna called as she stepped into the cozy warmth of her house. She put down her heavy book bag and immediately pulled off her winter boots and coat. Her fingers and toes started to tingle painfully as they warmed up. It felt as though someone were stabbing her with millions of needles.

Frau Rehme came through the kitchen door. “Hello,
Liebling.”
She kissed her daughter's cheek. “Brrrr. You feel like an icicle.” She smiled and took Korinna's hands between her own and rubbed them vigorously back and forth. “How was school?”

Korinna shrugged. “The same. We received new history books today, though.”

“Oh, really? What was wrong with the old ones?”

“We had to paste together too many pages because our teacher told us those pages were no longer accurate. Things are changing so quickly that we needed an updated book.”

Her mother squeezed Korinna's chilly hands. “But history doesn't change,” she said softly. “Just people's perception of it.”

“What did you say?”

Frau Rehme shook her head. “Nothing, dear. Nothing important.”

Korinna shrugged and pulled her hands free. “It must be Rita yelling in my ear all the time. It's making me deaf. Anyway, our new books have pages and pages about our Führer and all he's doing for Germany. He's making jobs for people. He has such exciting plans for us all. Hitler is the most wonderful man, Mother. Don't you think so?”

Frau Rehme looked at the framed picture of Adolf Hitler hanging above the couch. “Yes, he's a wonderful man,” she said slowly.

Korinna hugged her. “Don't worry, Mother, the Führer says it's only a matter of weeks, months at the
most, before Germany will be great again and we win the war.”