The Runaway Family Read Online Free PDF Page B

everything.”
    The journey from Kirnheim wasn’t easy, but with Laura holding the hand of each twin and Inge clinging on to her mother, they took the train into Munich and then negotiated the two buses needed to reach Herbert’s suburb.
    “You must be very good on the train,” she warned the children. “We may have to sit in special seats. If anyone speaks to you, just smile, but don’t answer. Even if they are unkind,” she reiterated to the two girls, “don’t answer.”
    There had been some comments as they clambered aboard, but they were able to sit altogether in the corner of a carriage. The children, overawed by the strange journey, had behaved well, and the little family had been left alone. When they finally alighted in the district where Herbert lived, they were all tired. Laura carried Peter, Ruth carried Hans, and Inge walked between them, gripping her mother’s skirt firmly in her hand. Ten minutes later they were outside the building where Herbert had his apartment. Inside the porch, at the bottom of a stone staircase they were faced with a column of doorbells, each with a name beside it. Drawing a long breath, Ruth pressed the one marked Friedman. At first there was no response, then from above them a woman’s voice came echoing down the stairwell.
    “Yes, who is it?”
    Ruth looked up the stairs to see a face peering down at them. “It’s Ruth Friedman,” she called. “I’ve come to see Herr Herbert Friedman.”
    “What do you want?”
    “I want to see Herr Friedman,” replied Ruth, wondering who the woman was.
    “He isn’t here.” The face disappeared and Ruth heard a door close.
    Ruth rang the bell again, but there was no further response.
    “Come on,” she said to the waiting children. “We’ll go up.” Trailed by the children, she set off up the stone stairs, pausing at each landing to read the names beside the front doors. On the third of the four floors there were three apartments. Hartmann, Gruber and Friedman. She pressed the Friedman bell. Nothing happened. Inge began to pull urgently at her skirt.
    “I need the bathroom, Mutti,” she whispered.
    “Hold on, darling,” Ruth replied. “Won’t be long.” She placed her finger on the bell again and held it there. She could hear its insistent ring inside the apartment, but she did not remove her finger. Inge was dancing up and down beside her now, clutching at herself, and Ruth knew that the child wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer. She put her mouth to the door and called, “If you don’t want a pool of urine on your doorstep, I suggest you open the door and let us in.” She continued her pressure on the bell, and at last the door opened a fraction and an elderly woman looked out at them, her face twisted with rage.
    “Go away!” she bellowed. “Herr Friedman isn’t here.”
    “Then we will wait until he is,” snapped Ruth. “In the meantime, my daughter needs the bathroom.”
    “You can’t come in.”
    Ruth was placatory. “Madam, I am Herr Friedman’s sister-in-law. These are his nephews and nieces. We have come with messages from his brother. Please let us in.”
    The woman looked at the little family standing on the landing, the mother leaning heavily on a stick, one of the children hopping up and down, clutching at her knickers, and with a sigh, she stood aside, saying as she did so, “First door on the left.”
    With a muttered thank-you, Ruth hurried Inge into the bathroom, leaving Laura to bring the twins inside. The woman closed the door behind them with a snap and then led the way down a short passage to the room at the end. Moments later Ruth joined them with a much-relieved Inge and returned to the bathroom with the twins.
    Laura looked round her as she waited for her turn. The room was not large, but comfortably furnished, with a wide window that looked out over the street to a public garden beyond.
    Uncle Herbert’s got a nice view, she thought, as she looked at the joyful colours of