Rebecca was in no doubt what he had seen. She and Bernd were perched on top of the roof, clear against the skyline.
The cop shouted and pointed, then broke into a run.
Rebecca rolled off the ridge and slowly slid down the slope of the roof until her sneakers touched the gutter at the front.
She heard a burst of machine-gun fire.
Bernd stood upright beside her, bracing himself with the rope tied to the chimney.
Rebecca felt him take her weight.
Here goes, she thought.
She rolled over the gutter and slid into thin air.
The rope pulled painfully around her chest, above her breasts. She dangled in the air for a moment, then Bernd paid out the rope and she began to descend in short jerks.
They had practised this at her parents’ house. Bernd had let her down from the highest window all the way to the backyard. It hurt his hands, he said, but he could do it, if he had good gloves. All the same, she was instructed to pause briefly any time she could rest her weight on a window surround to give him a moment’s respite.
She heard shouts of encouragement, and guessed that a crowd had now gathered down on Bernauer Strasse, on the West side of the Wall.
Below her she could see the pavement and the barbed wire that ran along the fa?ade of the building. Was she in West Berlin yet? The frontier police would shoot anyone on the East side, but they had strict instructions not to fire into the West, for the Soviets did not want any diplomatic incidents. But she was dangling immediately above the barbed wire, in neither one country nor the other.
She heard another burst of machine-gun fire. Where were the cops, and who were they shooting at? She guessed they would try to get up on the roof and shoot her and Bernd before it was too late. If they followed the same laborious route as their quarry they would not catch up in time. But they could probably save time by entering the building and simply running up the stairs.
She was almost there. Her feet touched the barbed wire. She pushed away from the building, but her legs did not quite clear the wire. She felt the barbs rip her trousers and tear her skin painfully. Then a crowd gathered around and helped her, taking her weight, disentangling her from the barbed wire, unwinding the rope around her chest, and setting her on the ground.
As soon as she was steady on her feet, she looked up. Bernd was on the edge of the roof, loosening the rope around his chest. She stepped backwards across the road so that she could see better. The policemen had not yet reached the roof.
Bernd got the rope firmly in both hands then stepped backwards off the roof. He abseiled slowly down the wall, slipping the rope through his hands as he went. This was extremely difficult, because all his weight was supported by his grip on the rope. He had practised at home, walking down the back wall of the town house at night when he would not be seen. But this building was taller.
The crowd in the street cheered him.
Then a cop appeared on the roof.
Bernd came down faster, risking his grip on the rope for more speed.
Someone shouted: ‘Get a blanket!’
Rebecca knew there was not enough time for that.
The cop aimed his sub-machine gun at Bernd, but hesitated. He could not fire into West Germany. He might well hit people other than the escapers. It was the kind of incident that could start a war.
The man turned and looked at the rope around the chimney. He might have untied it, but Bernd would reach the ground first.
Did the cop have a knife?
Apparently not.
Then he was inspired. He put the barrel of his gun against the taut rope and fired a single round.
Rebecca screamed.
The rope split, its end flying into the air over Bernauer Strasse.
Bernd fell like a stone.
The crowd scattered.
Bernd hit the sidewalk with a sickening thump.
Then he lay still.
*
Three days later, Bernd opened his eyes, looked at Rebecca, and said: ‘Hello.’
Rebecca said: ‘Oh, thank God.’
She had been out of her mind with worry. The doctors had told her that he would recover consciousness, but she had not been able to believe it until she saw it. He had undergone several operations, and in between he had been heavily drugged. This was the first time she had seen the light of intelligence in his face.
Trying not to cry, she leaned over the hospital bed and kissed his lips. ‘You’re back,’ she said. ‘I’m so glad.’
He said: ‘What happened?’
‘You fell.’
He nodded. ‘The roof. I remember. But—’
‘The policeman broke your rope.’
He looked along the length of his body. ‘Am I in plaster?’
She had been longing for him to come round, but she had also been dreading this moment. ‘From the waist down,’ she said.
‘I . . . I can’t move my legs. I can’t feel them.’ He looked panicky. ‘Have my legs been amputated?’
‘No.’ Rebecca took a deep breath. ‘You’ve broken most of the bones in your legs, but you can’t feel them because your spinal cord is partially severed.’
He was thoughtful for a long moment. Then he said: ‘Will it heal?’
‘The doctors say that nerves may heal, albeit slowly.’
‘So . . .’
‘So you may get some below-the-waist functions back, eventually. But you will be in a wheelchair when you leave this hospital.’
‘Do they say how long?’
‘They say –’ She had to make an effort not to cry. ‘You must prepare for the possibility that it may be permanent.’
He looked away. ‘I’m a cripple.’
‘But we’re free. You’re in West Berlin. We’ve escaped.’
‘Escaped to a wheelchair.’
‘Don’t think of it that way.’
‘What the hell am I going to do?’
‘I’ve thought about this.’ She made her voice firm and confident, more so than she felt. ‘You’re going to marry me and return to teaching.’
‘That’s not likely.’
‘I’ve already phoned Anselm Weber. You’ll remember that he’s now head of a school in Hamburg. He has jobs for both of us, starting in September.’
‘A teacher in a wheelchair?’
‘What difference will that make? You’ll still be able to explain physics so that the dullest child in the class understands. You don’t need legs for that.’
‘You don’t want to marry a cripple.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘But I want to marry you. And I will.’
His tone became bitter. ‘You can’t marry a man with no below-the-waist functions.’
‘Listen to me,’ she said fiercely. ‘Three months ago I didn’t know what love was. I’ve only just found you, and I’m not going to lose you. We’ve escaped, we’ve survived, and we’re going to live. We’ll get married, we’ll teach school, and we’ll love each other.’
‘I don’t know.’
‘I want only one thing from you,’ she said. ‘You must not lose hope. We’ll confront all difficulties together, and we’ll solve all problems together. I can put up with any hardship as long as I’ve got you. Promise me, now, Bernd Held, that you’ll never give up. Never.’
There was a long pause.
‘Promise,’ she said.
He smiled. ‘You’re a tiger,’ he said.