Free The Runaway Family by Diney Costeloe Page B

tramp of jackboots, and the casual cruelty of the Hitler Youth who haunted the Jewish districts, hunting in gangs. She seldom took the children far these days, just a short walk each day to give them some exercise and fresh air. They were virtually prisoners in the apartment, and although she tried to keep up a pretence of normality, they were changing from the cheerful, rosy-cheeked children she had brought from Gerbergasse, to restive, fractious children, pale-faced and hollow-eyed.
    It was over a week later that Herbert finally dropped his bombshell.
    “I’m going to Argentina,” he told Ruth when the children were safely in bed and they were alone in the living room. They were sitting across the dining table from each other, the remains of a frugal meal between them.
    Ruth stared at him, aghast. “You’re what?”
    “I’m going to Argentina,” he repeated, “I’ve booked my passage on a ship. I leave from Hamburg next week. There’s nothing to keep me here.”
    Ruth continued to stare at him. “Nothing to keep you here,” she echoed flatly.
    Herbert continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “I’ve no family, and it’s no good me waiting to see if Herr Durst is going to set up another firm. I’m getting out while I still can.”
    “Nothing to keep you here,” Ruth said again. “No family. What about Kurt’s children? Kurt’s family? Don’t you think we might need you?”
    Herbert looked a little uncomfortable, but he spoke firmly. “I have thought about you and the children… of course I have. I would take you, but Kurt will be coming to look for you here. Otherwise I’d take you with me, of course I would… But you said yourself that this is where Kurt will come to find you.” His eyes showed a gleam of… what? Ruth wasn’t sure as she listened to him cap his lies with the argument she had used to get him to allow them to stay with him.
    “Here,” she repeated. “But if you’ve gone…”
    “My dear Ruth,” Herbert said soothingly, “you don’t think I am just going to walk away and leave you with nowhere to live, do you?”
    It was exactly what Ruth was thinking, so she didn’t reply as she waited for him to continue. “Of course not.” He shook his head firmly. “It would be wrong to take you with me, but you can stay here. The rent on this flat is paid up until the end of the year. You can stay here, just as you are now until Kurt comes for you. If they’re letting them out of that camp, it won’t be long before he’s here with you again.”
    “And you’ve actually booked your passage? Bought your ticket? You have your ticket in your hands?”
    “Not yet, but I’ve paid for it. I collect it from the office of the shipping company tomorrow.”
    “Let’s hope there is one for you,” snapped Ruth bitterly.
    Once he had told her, Herbert’s demeanour began to change. He had made his decision some days ago, but now he had admitted it to Ruth there came a sense of relief, a sense of purpose. He still looked older than his years, but a little colour began to creep back into his cheeks. He got up from his chair and went to the sideboard where he poured himself a glass of schnapps. Turning back towards Ruth he saw her watching him, her eyes dull with worry.
    “Would you like a drink, Ruth?” he asked awkwardly. “I’m sorry, I should have asked you.”
    Ruth was about to refuse when she thought, “Why not?” She seldom drank alcohol, but suddenly she felt in need of… whatever it might supply. She nodded and Herbert poured another, smaller measure into a glass and handed it to her.
    “Prosit!” he said.
    Ruth took the glass and took a sip. The drink was fiery in her throat, and she coughed, before downing the rest in one draught, and coughing again.
    “Steady,” Herbert said. “You’re not used to it.” He tilted his own glass and he, too, downed the contents in one, before pouring each of them another.
    Later, as Ruth lay on the sofa, feeling a little woozy from the