Deception - WWII Resistance / Holocaust Novel

Chapter 12

The sound of the grand piano fills the air, slow and soothing as the mass of bodies sway effortlessly in the centre of the room. Multiple tables circle the dancing crowd. Those seated relax in their chairs as the staff continue to fill their clattering glasses to the brim. Large red banners with the swastika are hung from almost every corner of the room. I am taken by the hand, guided down the long staircase. Herr Fehmer hands me a tall glass of champagne and I accept it graciously, taking small sips to ease my nerves.

'How is it?'

'Good,' I force a smile onto my lips.

'Of course it is, all the way from France,' he replies seeming uninterested in my response. 'Only the best.'

He stirs me in the direction of table seating several officers. Herr Fehemer introduces me to the men and I nod politely acknowledging each of their presences, but my eyes secretly count the numerous medals which adore their uniforms. However, one individual's name catches my attention, making my breath hitch up in the back of my throat.

'Karl von Eberstein,' he kisses the back of hand lightly. I stiffen at his touch which makes me want to jump out of my skin. I try not to pull my hand away too quickly and mask the relief when he lets go of my hand.

'You are so skinny,' he remarks. 'Like the Jews I catch.'

The discomfort in my chest begins to grow and spread while my brain attempts to process his comment. I fight the urge to not reach over grab him by the collar and unleash the all the anger and despair which I have kept hidden all these months.

'I thought there were no longer any Jews left in Amsterdam,' I reply sweetly.

His face is serious, lips pressed into a thin line.

His cold eyes meet mine.

Suddenly, they light up with gleam as a disturbing hearty laugh escapes his lips causing the entire table to erupt into a fit whilst clapping their hands. I felt Herr Fehmer's chest shaking with amusement beside me. I forced a smile and played along as von Eberstein gestured for us to have a seat. I remained silent and continued to sip my beverage, only replying to the small bits of conversation Fehmer makes with me.

'Care to dance?' I look up to see von Eberstein's hand outreached towards me.

'Of course,' I hesitantly, place my hand in his.

He leads to the open dance floor and places his free hand on my hip. I tried to refrain from making eye contact, but instead embrace the music. As much as I tried to place my mind in another world, away from this world of pain, his touch brought me back to reality. He hastily pulled me close so that our waists touched. The feeling of his breath against my neck, made the hairs on my neck stand up.

'What nice eyes you have,' his comments make me look up.

'Why—' I am cut off by the sound of metal being hit repeatedly against a glass as the piano cuts off.

I recognise Herr Brandt make his way onto the stage. He adjusts the mike on the stand, before proceeding to greet everyone present. I internally roll my eyes at the random cue of voices cheering from different sides of the hall as Brandt addresses the great men in the room.

"...As we celebrate today, the birthday of our Führer and bow before the greatness of this man... let us remember the chaotic years that began in 1919, the disgrace of Versailles, Germany's enslavement... With the Führer we are everything, without him we are nothing.

Let us all, dedicate this toast to the highest man on this earth. Hail Hitler!"

The entire room stands up from their seats with their glasses raised up, repeating the Nazi salute enthusiastically. An ice sculpture chiselled to resemble the Nazi swastika is wheeled out causing a cue of 'ahh' and 'o's' to fill the room as another round of applause ensues.

I step outside onto the patio into the cool night air. I can no longer mask the sickness growing in the pits of my stomach. The distant chatter and screams of delight only makes me grip my hands into fists tighter, my nails digging into my palms to the point where I am sure they will leave marks. I stumbled, clinging onto the wall as the laughter of von Eberstein rang in my ears mixed with the sound of gunshots which my mind replayed. My breathing became more rapid, more shallow. I clutched my abdomen as the feeling of sickness seemed to come in waves.

I emptied the contents of my stomach into the nearest pot plant and wiped my hand on the back of palm. I gritted my teeth, disgusted with the taste of bile on my tongue.

'Are you alright?' A concerned voice calls, making me jump onto my feet, straightening my posture and soothing out the creases in my dress.

'Ja,' I say quickly. I try to hide my embarrassed expression, feeling a bit disgusted by the prospect that he had just witnessed my sickness a few moments ago. 'I am...not used to the alcohol.'

He had tousled dark brown hair, a few strands of which hung over his green emerald eyes which glinted in the moonlight. I observed his sharp jaw, chin, and cheekbones. When I reassured him that I was fine, a soft and gentleness seemed to find their way to his eyes as a smile etched a way onto his face. He turns away as the silence envelopes us.

I rub my hands up and down my arms, trying to warm myself up from the cool breeze. Something inside of me draws me closer towards him, 'Why are you out here?'

He reaches into his pocket and pulls open a small pouch revealing several cigarettes. He places once between his lips and begins to light it up. He turns and over me one. I perch the cigarette between my lips as he flicks the lighter.

'Thank you,' I say before inhaling deeply, the panic slowly calming down within me.

'Are you enjoying the celebrations?' he asks, attempting to make small talk.

'Ja. And you?'

'Ja.'

Silence.

'You are a lieutenant?' I question whilst examining his uniform.

'That is correct,' he confirms. 'How did you—'

'I like to know how men rank in uniform,' I smile. 'You must be very brave.'

'Maybe,' he says unsure, almost uncomfortable with the comment. 'We are all just trying to survive, is all.' He turns towards me and studies my face, changing the subject he states, 'I have never seen your face before this night.'

'You must be glad now.'

'Naturally.'

'Tell me lieutenant, how did you earn that?' I lightly flick my finger against one of the many medals pinned on his shirt.

'Why would young lady like you be interested in such things?'

'I like shiny things.'

My last statement makes him chuckle, 'What is your name?'

'Mieke de Jong,' I stretch out my hand.

'Wilhelm Winter,' he smiles as he firms shakes my hand.

The sound of the piano begins again, this time accompanied by a violin. Wilhelm looks towards the dance floor and then back towards me, 'Miss de Jong, would you like to dance with me?'

'How could I say no?'

Unlike von Eberstein, Wilhelm's touch was gentle and warm. He was cautious and gracious. I had to admit he was an attractive man, not solely by looks, but something in the way carried himself.

'Sorry,' I whisper as I accidentally step on his foot.

'It's okay,' he says softly.

If it were anyone else I would drop my gaze, but with him I'm drawn in closer, so close, I could see the flecks of silver in his eyes. He seemed to lacked the repulsive ego which pushed me away from Fehmer and the others. Perhaps because his own eyes reflected a sense of humanity unlike von Eberstein's cold and calculating gaze.

He looks at me as if asking for permission to move closer. When I do not protest, he moves closer with those eyes that look so deeply into my own.

'Mind if I cut in?'

A/N Here it is! What are your thoughts? Make sure to watch the video clip inserted above from one of my favorite films Max Manus: Man of War, from which Herr Fehmer's character is based as it sets the scene for this chapter.