He looked at her for a long time, as if considering what to say, before suddenly taking her hand and pulling her over to him and up onto his lap.
“Actually, you aren’t allowed to be in here because this is Opa’s secret room. But now that you’re here, you might as well stay.” He nodded toward the wall. “Och, ja, Dorrit, you’re right. It is me in the photographs. They are from when I was a young man and a soldier in the German army during the war.”
Dorrit nodded. He looked handsome in his uniform. Black cap, black jacket, and black pants. Everything was black: belt, boots, holster, and gloves. Only the skull and crossbones and the smile with the pearly white teeth shone among all the black.
“Then you were a soldier, Opa?”
“Jawohl. You can see my pistol for yourself up there on the shelf. Parabellum 08, also known as a Luger. My best friend for many years.”
Dorrit looked up at the shelf with fascination. The gun was grey-black with a brown holster beside it. There was also a small knife in a sheath beside something she didn’t recognize but that resembled a softball bat, only with a black can at one end.
“Does the gun really shoot?” she asked.
“Ja, it has done so many times, Dorrit.”
“So you were a real soldier, Opa?”
He smiled. “Ja, your Opa was a very brave and talented soldier who did many things in World War II, so you can be proud of him.”
“World war?”
He nodded. As far as Dorrit knew, war could never be good. Not something that could make you smile.
She sat up a little and looked over her grandfather’s shoulder so she could see what it was he had been looking at.
“Nein, you mustn’t look at those pictures, Dorritchen,” he said, putting his hand on the back of her neck to pull her away. “Maybe another time when you are grown up; those pictures aren’t for children’s eyes.” She nodded but stretched forward a few centimeters more and this time wasn’t pulled back.
When she saw a series of black-and-white photos in which a man with drooping shoulders was dragged over toward her grandfather, who in the following photos raised a gun and then shot the man in the back of the neck, she asked tentatively, “You were just playing, weren’t you, Opa?”
He turned her face tenderly toward his and met her eyes.
“War isn’t a game, Dorrit. You kill your enemies, or you’d be killed yourself. You understand, don’t you? If your Opa hadn’t done everything he could back then to defend himself, why then, you and I wouldn’t be sitting here today, would we?”
She shook her head slowly and moved closer to the table.
“And all these people wanted to kill you?”
She glanced over the photos; she didn’t know what they were supposed to represent. They were horrifying. There were people falling down. Men and women hanging from ropes. There was a man being beaten on the back of the neck with a club. And in all of the pictures, there was her grandfather.
“Yes, they were. They were evil and loathsome. But that’s nothing for you to worry about, Schatz. The war is over, and there won’t be another one. Trust your Opa. It all ended back then. Alles ist vorbei.” He turned toward the photographs on the table and smiled, almost as if he took pleasure in seeing them. It was probably because he no longer had to be scared or defend himself against his enemies, she thought.
“That’s good, Opa,” she replied.
They heard the footsteps from the adjoining room almost simultaneously, managing to push themselves up from the chair before Dorrit’s grandmother stood in the doorway between the shelves, staring at him.
“What’s going on here?” she said harshly, grabbing Dorrit while giving them a piece of her mind. “There is nothing for Dorrit in here, Fritzl, didn’t we agree on that?”
“Alles in Ordnung, Liebling. Dorrit has only just come in and is on her way out again. Isn’t that right, little Dorrit?” he said calmly but with cold eyes. You’ll keep quiet if you don’t want a scene, she understood, so she nodded and followed obediently as her grandmother dragged her toward the study. Just as they were leaving the room she caught a glimpse of the wall around the doorway. It was also decorated. On one side of the door hung a large red flag with a large white circle in which a strange cross took up most of the space, and on the other side of the door there was a color photo of her grandfather, head held high and with his right arm raised toward the sky.
I will never forget this, she thought for the first time in her life.
—
“Take no notice of what your grandmother says, and forget what you saw in there with your grandfather. Promise me that, Dorrit; it is all just nonsense.”
Dorrit’s mother pushed Dorrit’s arms into her jacket sleeves, bending down in front of her.
“We’re going home now, and we’ll forget all about this, won’t we, my sweet?”
“But, Mommy, why were you shouting like that in the sitting room? Is that why Daddy left? And where is he? Is he at home?”
She shook her head with a serious expression on her face. “No, Daddy and I aren’t getting along at the moment, so he is somewhere else.”
“But when is he coming back?”
“I don’t know if he will, Dorrit. But you mustn’t be upset about it. We don’t need Daddy, because your grandfather and grandmother will look after us. You know that, don’t you?” She smiled and caressed her cheeks. Her breath smelled of something strong. Similar to the clear liquid her grandfather poured in small glasses from time to time.
“Listen to me, Dorrit. You are so beautiful and wonderful. You’re better and more intelligent than any other little girl in the whole world, so we’ll manage just fine without Daddy, don’t you think?”
She attempted a nod, but her head just wouldn’t budge.
“I think we should head home right now so we can turn on the television and see all the exquisite dresses the ladies are wearing to the prince’s wedding with the beautiful Chinese girl, okay, Dorrit?”
“Then Alexandra will be a princess, right?”
“Yes, she will, just as soon as they are married. But until then she’s just a normal girl who has found a real prince, and you’ll also find your prince one day, sweetie. When you grow up, you’ll be rich and famous because you’re even better and prettier than Alexandra, and you can have whatever you want in the world. Just look at your blond hair and beautiful features. Does Alexandra have these things?”
Dorrit smiled. “And you’ll always be there, won’t you, Mommy?” She simply loved it when she could make her mother look as touched as she did now.
“Oh yes, my darling. And I would do anything for you.”
1
Tuesday, April 26th, 2016
As always, her face bore traces of the night before. Her skin was dry, and the dark circles under her eyes were more pronounced than they’d been when she went to bed.
Denise sneered at her reflection in the mirror. She had now spent an hour on damage control, but it was never good enough.