shiny white silk stockings, a pair of elegant gray shoes, a couple of long pearl strings, and a little violet cloche hat. Her hair was brown and quite short, and her eyes were green, and she was beautiful in a thin, boyish way that was still the fashion, despite everything the Nazis were doing to persuade German women that it was all right to look and dress and, for all I know, probably smell like a milkmaid. The girl on the stairs next to me couldn’t have looked less like a milkmaid if she’d arrived there on a shell blown along by some zephyrs.
“You promise you’re not going to hand me over to the bulls,” she said on the way downstairs.
“So long as you behave yourself, yes, I promise.”
“Because if I go up before a magistrate, he’ll put me in the tobacco jar and I’ll lose my job.”
“Is that what you call it?”
“Oh, I don’t mean the sledge,” she said. “I just slide a bit when I need a bit of extra money to help my mother. No, I mean my proper job. If I lost that, I’d have to become a full-time joy lady, and I wouldn’t like that. It might have been different a few years ago. But things are different now. A lot less tolerant.”
“What ever gave you that idea?”
“Still, you seem like a decent sort.”
“There are some who might disagree with you,” I said bitterly.
“What ever do you mean?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re not a Jew, are you?”
“Do I look like a Jew?”
“No. It was just the way you said—what you said. You said what a Jew says, sometimes. Not that it matters a damn to me what a man is. I can’t see what all the fuss is about. I’ve yet to meet a Jew who looks like one of those silly cartoons. And I should know. I work for a Jew who’s just the sweetest man you could ever hope to meet.”
“Doing what, exactly?”
“You don’t have to say it like that, you know. I’m not sitting on his face, if that’s what you mean. I’m a stenographer, at Odol. The toothpaste company.” She smiled brightly as if showing off her teeth.
“At Europa Haus?”
“Yes. What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. I’ve just come from there. As a matter of fact, I was looking for you.”
“Looking for me? What do you mean?”
“Forget it. What does your boss do?”
“Runs the legal department.” She smiled. “I know. It’s quite a contradiction, isn’t it? Me working in legal.”
“So, what, selling your mouse is just a hobby?”
She shrugged. “I said I needed the extra money, but that’s only part of it. Did you see Grand Hotel ?”
“The movie? Sure.”
“Wasn’t it wonderful?”
“It was all right.”
“I’m a bit like Flaemmchen, I think. The girl Joan Crawford plays. I just love big hotels like that one in the movie. Like the Adlon. ‘People come. People go. Nothing ever happens.’ But it’s not like that at all, is it? I think a lot happens in a place like this. A lot more than happens in the lives of most ordinary people. I love the atmosphere of this particular hotel. I love the glamour. I love the feel of the sheets. And the big bathrooms. You’ve no idea how much I love the bathrooms in this hotel.”
“Isn’t it a little dangerous? Joy ladies can get hurt. There are plenty of men in Berlin who like to dole out a little pain. Hitler. Goering. Hess. To name but three.”
“That’s another reason to come to a hotel like the Adlon. Most of the Fritzes who stay here know how to behave themselves. They treat a girl nicely. Politely. Besides, if anything went wrong, I’d only have to scream, and someone like you would turn up. What are you anyway? You don’t look like you work on the front desk. Not with those mitts on you. And you’re not the house copper. Not the one I’ve seen before.”
“You seem to have it all worked out,” I said, ignoring her questions.
“In this line of work it pays to do the algebra.”
“And are you a good stenographer?”
“I’ve never had any complaints. I have shorthand and typing