Ashes Read Online Free PDF

of day or night they arrived with a severe gaze. He kept track obsessively of every individual’s comings and goings. I had no idea when or if he ever slept. There was something very predatory about his appearance. His head reminded me of an anvil—a flat top, concave sides that met in a long narrow vertical ridge in the middle with his eyes crowded close to the wedge of his nose, and a tiny little mouth pursed beneath the nose. The word Himmel means heaven, but he was certainly the most perfectly misnamed man on Earth, so Ulla and I called him Herr Hölle, or “Mr. Hell,” behind his back.
    â€œYou are late from school, Fräulein, and so few books you carry. I suppose you are starting your vacation early. Your sister certainly has. Do you know what time she got in last night?”
    â€œNo, Herr Himmel,” I said, and rushed by.
    â€œTwo o’clock in the morning,” he called after me. “I don’t know why parents tolerate this. Too liberal,” he muttered to my back as I headed for the lift, gritting my teeth.
    I let myself into the apartment, and instead of music, which I usually heard in the late afternoon, I heard voices. Mama’s piano student must have canceled. Instead Baba was there. Baba was Mama’s best friend from their Vienna schooldays.
    â€œSo, Elske, what am I to do? He was at the princess’s party. First high-society event he’s attended. People beg to get their names in the column. I have to mention him. He’s news, but he’s so loathsome!” I heard Baba say.
    â€œDo just that. Mention him. Don’t flatter him. Hah! Der Führer , they call him. The leader. But he’ll be gone in six months.” Then their voices dropped and they must have said something slightly risqué, for Mama exclaimed, “Naughty, Baba!” and Baba burst out giggling. When Mama got together with Baba, just the two of them, they definitely became less inhibited.
    â€œMama!” I called from the hall just to warn them.
    â€œ Schatzi! Treasure,” Baba cried out as I came into the music parlor, where she and Mama were taking tea.
    â€œSit down, have some tea.” Baba patted the place next to her on the sofa.
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    Baba was two years older than Mama. They had met in Vienna, where they both grew up. Despite what seemed to me like a big age difference, they had become fast friends. Baba reminded me of a pastry confection. Her hair, which she had styled daily, was like a puffy, golden meringue. Her skin was soft, and her cheeks were sprinkled with cinnamon-colored freckles that she covered up with powder at night when she went out to report on all the parties she attended. Going to parties was her job. She was the social columnist for the Berlin newspaper the Vossische Zeitung . My parents said that it was now the only newspaper worth reading. The others, they said, were just Nazi bullhorns.
    â€œWhere have you been?” Mama asked.
    â€œRosa and I went to the zoo.” I plopped down in a chair and reached for one of the teacakes. The little cake was called Schnecke for it curled about like a seashell and had pale pink frosting. But actually it reminded me of Baba’s ears, especially as there were little sugar pearls dotting it and Baba was wearing pearl earrings that day.
    â€œGo wash your hands, Gaby,” Mama ordered. “You’ve been to the zoo, for heaven’s sake.”
    â€œIt’s not the zoo that is dirty,” I muttered. Mama and Baba exchanged glances.
    â€œNow, what do you mean by that, Liebling ?” I was Mama’s “darling,” Einstein’s “dear child,” and Baba’s “treasure.” I was Papa’s kleine Zaubermaus —little magic mouse. He would call me that as he patted my braids and whisper, “ kleine Milchstrasse .” I would sometimes remind him that mice did not have braids.
    I was thinking about the Brown Shirts, specifically the