Tell Me Who I Am

  Amelia felt so much pain inside that she hardly realized that one of the blows had broken her left wrist.

  “I want to see her! I want to see her!” Amelia begged, grabbing onto the guard’s skirt as the woman kept on beating her without pity.

  “No, you won’t see your bitch friend who’s going to get what she deserves for being a traitor. She’s a disgusting friend of the Jews, just like you. Pigs! You’re all pigs!” the guard screamed as she carried on beating her.

  It was dawn when the guards came to the cells to take away the condemned women. Some of them cried and begged, others kept silent and tried to focus on these few minutes of life remaining to them, minutes when they could only bid themselves farewell.

  Helped by two other prisoners, Amelia managed to position herself in front of the little window that gave onto the corridor down which the condemned women were to walk. She saw Ewa hobbling along, with a serene look in her eyes, telling the beads of a rosary that she had made herself out of scraps of her petticoat. She was finding strength through prayer, and she smiled at Amelia as she came past her cell door.

  “You’ll get out of here, just you see, pray for me, I’ll look after you when I’m in heaven.”

  The guard gave Ewa a violent push.

  “Shut up, you hypocritical bitch, and walk! Your friend will be with you soon enough! They’ll hang her too!”

  Amelia tried to say something to Ewa, but she could not. Her eyes were flooded with tears and she could not find it in herself to say a single word.

  Then she was overcome with despair and refused to eat the blackish bug-ridden soup that was all that kept them alive.

  She hovered between life and death for several days. She had given up, and did not want to struggle anymore.

  That was how Max found her when he went to look for her in Pawiak. He had arrived in Warsaw the same day, and was with his adjutant, Hans Henke, who had been promoted to the rank of major, and he also had Karl Kleist’s guarantee that all the necessary papers had been signed for Amelia’s release.

  He went straight to Pawiak, where they did not seem all that impressed that a colonel in the army was so worried about this prisoner whom they had been ordered to release.

  The prison commandant seemed slightly grumpy, and he told Max to stay in his office while they sent down to have the prisoner brought up from the cells.

  “You can take her, but I’d be careful if I were you, she’s got something wrong with her lungs and who knows what you might catch. I’d stay away from her if I were you.”

  Max could scarcely contain himself. He felt an instinctive dislike for this man, and was only keen to leave the prison as soon as possible, taking Amelia with him.

  When he saw her he could not hold back a cry of pain.

  “My God, what have they done to you!”

  It was hard for him to recognize Amelia in that famished figure who could barely stand upright, with her hair cut so short that her scalp was visible, dressed in dirty rags, her gaze lost in the distance.

  Max and Hans Henke took hold of Amelia, and once all the papers had been signed they led her out of Pawiak.

  The two men were shocked and scarcely dared speak to the woman.

  “Let’s go to the hotel, I’ll examine her there,” Max said to his adjutant.

  “I think we should take her to a hospital; I’m not a doctor like you, but I think that she’s very ill.”

  “She is, she is, but I would prefer to take her to the hotel, and decide what to do once I’ve had a look at her myself: I don’t want to put her into other people’s hands.”

  Major Henke didn’t insist. He knew his superior’s stubbornness, and had seen him doing whatever was necessary over the course of the last year to ensure the young Spaniard’s release. Henke wondered if the woman would one day regain at least a part of what had been her striking beauty.

  When they reached the hotel, there was a certain amount of commotion at the sight of two Wehrmacht officers carrying between them what appeared to be a beaten-up tramp. The hotel manager, leaving the hotel with a group of officers, came up to them.

  “Colonel von Schumann... this woman... well... I don’t know how to say it, but I don’t think that it is right for you to bring her into the hotel. If you want, I can tell you where to take her.”

  “Fräulein Garayoa will stay in my room,” Max replied.

  The manager quailed before the angry gaze of the aristocratic soldier who carried the beggar-woman in his arms.

  “Of course, of course...”

  “Send a maid up to the room,” Max ordered.

  When they reached his room, Max asked his assistant to run a bath.

  “The first thing to do is to clean her and get rid of the parasites, then I will examine her. I think that one of her hands might have some broken bones, I’ll need you to go the hospital and bring me everything you can to bandage it. But first of all, I would be grateful if you could go to the closest shop and buy some clothes for Amelia.”

  The maid arrived and seemed repulsed at first when Max asked her to help him bathe Amelia.

  “I’ll pay you a month’s salary.”

  “Of course, sir,” the woman accepted, managing to banish her scruples.

  Amelia’s eyes were closed. She hardly had the strength to speak or to move. She thought that she could hear Max’s voice, but she told herself that it must be a dream, one of those dreams in which her loved ones visited her: her son Javier, her parents, her cousin Laura, her sister Antonietta... Yes, it had to be a dream. She didn’t seem to realize that she was being put in a bath, or that they were rubbing her head so hard, her head hurt a lot, and she didn’t even realize that Max and the maid were taking her out of the bath and wrapping her in a towel. Then they dressed her in one of Max’s pajamas, which was so large on her that she lost herself in it.

  “Thank you for your help,” Max told the maid.

  “At your service, sir,” she replied, as she grasped the money the soldier had given her.

  Max listened to Amelia’s lungs and heart, took her temperature, and examined her whole body, looking at the traces of the torture she had suffered. He found it difficult to hold back his tears and his rage to see the woman he loved in such a state.

  “She’s got tuberculosis,” he muttered to himself.

  When Hans Henke came back with several shopping bags, he found Amelia asleep. Max had made her drink a cup of milk and take a sedative.

  “I’ve bought some things, I hope they’re suitable, it’s the first time I’ve bought clothes for a woman. Truth be told, I’ve never even gone shopping with my wife.

  “Thank you, Major, I’m very grateful.”

  “Come on, Colonel, you don’t have to thank me! You know how highly I think of you and that I share your fears for Germany. As far as Fräulein Garayoa is concerned, I’ve always liked her and I am sorry to see what they’ve done to her.”

  “She has tuberculosis.”

  “In that case, she should go to a hospital straight away, where they can look after her properly.”

  “No, I don’t want to leave her alone in a hospital, without any friends, without people to look after her. Who knows what might happen to her.”

  “But we have to get back to Russia...”

  “Yes, but I think I can get a few more days’ leave. You go back to the front, and I will follow you as soon as I can.”

  “And if they don’t give you permission?”

  “I’ll think of something. Now, please go to the hospital and bring me everything that there is written on this list. I’ll need it all to help her get well.”

  It took Amelia two days to awaken from the lethargy that had stolen over her, and when she did so she was surprised to see that Max was actually there.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked her, holding her by the hand.

  “So... it’s true... It is you...”

  “Who did you think it would be?” he said, laughing.

  “I tho
ught I was dreaming.”

  Max insisted that she rest, but Amelia paid him no attention because she needed to talk, to recover a part of what had been her life. They spoke for hours.

  “You haven’t asked me if I’m guilty,” she said.

  “Guilty? What would you be guilty of?”

  “They arrested me, they accused me of conspiracy against the Reich, of helping the Jews...”

  “Well, I hope that’s all true,” he replied, laughing.

  “I didn’t tell you so as not to implicate you, but Grazyna... well... She was helping the Jews, we went to the ghetto to take them food, and some other things.”

  “Don’t blame yourself, Amelia, you did well.”

  “But... I have to tell you about it.”

  “Tell me everything when you are better, you need to rest now.”

  “I want to talk, I need to talk, you don’t know how much I’ve missed you. I thought I would never see you again, I’d never see you, or... or my son, or my family. Pawiak is hell, Max, it’s hell.”

  Three days later, Max told Amelia that he had obtained a safe-conduct pass for her to travel to Lisbon, and from there to Spain.

  “You are still ill, but it’s a risk we need to take. I have to go to the front, they won’t let me spend more time in Warsaw and you are not safe here. Do you think you’d be able to look after yourself? I’ll give you the medicine you need to take.”

  “So, once again, we go our separate ways,” she said.

  “It makes me very sad. But I am a soldier as well as a doctor, and I need to obey orders. My friends have managed to get me a few days in Warsaw, but they can’t cover for me much longer.”

  “I know, and I shouldn’t complain. You have done so much for me! Yes, I will go to Spain, I wouldn’t want to go anywhere else. Maybe they will let me see my son. I haven’t heard anything from my family in so long, they must think that I’m dead.”

  “Don’t say that! Of course you will see your son and... Well, I have to tell you something that will upset you.”

  Amelia looked at Max in fear. She was afraid of what he might say.

  “I’ve had a son. Ludovica has given me a son and heir.”

  “I know, Max, your wife told me that she was pregnant. I didn’t know that you and Ludovica still... I thought that...”

  “I didn’t lie to you. Everything had been finished between Ludovica and me a long time before. You weren’t there, Amelia, and I didn’t know what was going to happen with us. You were with Albert James at the time, or at least that’s what I thought. She asked me to give our marriage another chance and I... I didn’t refuse. I have a son, his name is Friedrich, and I love him, Amelia, I love him like you love your own son. I cannot not love him. He is a part of me, the best part of me.”

  A tense silence fell, and Amelia felt her eyes filling with tears. She did not have any right to blame him for anything he had done, but she felt wounded.

  “I cannot ask forgiveness for Friedrich,” the baron said.

  “It hurts, Max, of course it hurts, but I have no right to scold you. You have never betrayed me, I always knew that Ludovica was there and that your sense of honor would stop you from separating from her. I also knew, even though you never told me anything, that you were keen to have a son who would carry on your line, and I knew that this was something I could never give you, as I am married. But it hurts, Max, of course it hurts.”

  He took her in his arms and saw how she was trembling and fighting back sobs. She felt more fragile than ever because of her extreme thinness, but he did not want to lie to her and tell her that he would have preferred Friedrich not to exist, because that was not true. He felt proud of that tiny child whom he longed to hold in his arms.

  He loved Amelia, but he also loved Friedrich and did not want to give up either of them.

  It was not easy for them to separate once again. Max took Amelia to the airport. She could barely stand upright. She was very weak.

  They said goodbye without knowing when they would see each other again, but promising that they would not let anything separate them.

  “If you cannot get in touch with me directly, try my adjutant, Major Henke.”

  “You’ve both been promoted, you’re a colonel now and he’s a major...”

  “War is like that, Amelia. But listen to me, if you can’t get in touch with Major Henke, then try Professor Schatzhauser, and he will know where I am.”

  It was hard for Amelia to keep from crying as she climbed on board the airplane, and she turned back several times to wave to Max, who was having a difficult time hiding his emotions as well.

  Many hours later, after a long pause in Berlin, Amelia was looking out of the window trying to discern the contours of Lisbon.

  She was keen to touch down on Portuguese soil, as that would be the prelude to her return home. She didn’t intend to spend any longer in the city than was absolutely necessary. First she would go to the Hotel Oriente. That was where her contacts in British intelligence had sent her the last time she was in Lisbon. In London they must be asking what had happened to her after so many months of silence. Perhaps they had given her up for dead.

  The Hotel Oriente seemed to be finding times hard. Its owner, the Englishman John Brown, recognized her as soon as he saw her.

  “Goodness, it’s Miss Garayoa! I wasn’t expecting to see you here... You don’t look very well. Shall I give you your usual room, would that be alright?”

  Without giving her time to reply, he started to call for his wife, Doña Mencia.

  “Mencia, Mencia! Where are you? We have a guest.”

  “I’m not going to stay, Mr. Brown, I just want to know if I can get in touch with some of your friends...”

  “You want to speak to some of my compatriots.”

  “Can you arrange it?”

  “Yes, of course, but in the meantime, why not go up to the room and rest, I’m sorry to insist, but you really don’t look that well. Mencia will bring you something to eat.”

  “I want to go to Spain as soon as possible, on the first train.”

  “In that case you will have to wait until tomorrow morning. Don’t worry, I’ll get you a ticket.”

  Mencia knocked gently on the door to Amelia’s room.

  “How you’ve changed!” Mencia said when she recognized Amelia.

  “I’m pleased to see you,” Amelia said, taking no notice of Mencia’s comment.

  “My husband said that you looked like a ghost, and he was right. You’re all skin and bone! Where have you been? You look terrible.”

  “These are hard times for us all.”

  “Yes, they are, and I’m scared that one day they’ll come for my husband, there are too many eyes and ears watching everything that happens, and what with him being English... Of course, I’m Portuguese and that means I’m safe, or at least that’s what I’d like to believe. What do you need? I think I’ll bring you some food. Some salt cod? It’s very good to help you get your strength up.”

  “No, Mencia, I’m not hungry.”

  “If you change your mind, call me. My husband has told me to tell you not to leave the room and to rest, and that someone will come to see you in a little while. I think I can guess who... but it’s better not to say anything.”

  Amelia fell into bed and fell fast asleep. A little while later she was awakened by some knocks on the door. When she opened it, she saw John Brown accompanied by an arrogant-looking man who surveyed her sullenly.

  “Miss Garayoa, here is a friend of mine. I’ll leave you alone to talk together. If you need anything I’ll send Mencia.”

  “Where have you come from?” the man asked without any preambles.

  “Pawiak.”

  “Pawiak?”

  “Yes, it’s a prison in Warsaw. They arrested me.”

  “And why did they let you go?”

  “It’s a long story. I think that the best thing would be for me to tell you what happened and for you to tell London. I’m going ho
me tomorrow, I’m going to Madrid.”

  Over the course of an hour, Amelia told the man everything that had happened, from the day of her arrest to the day of her release, including Max von Schumann’s role in the latter. The agent listened without taking his eyes off her, scrutinizing her unashamedly.

  When Amelia had finished her story, neither of them spoke for a while. It was the man who broke the silence.

  “You should stay here until you receive orders from London.”

  “No, I’m not going to do that. I want to go home, I need to be with my family. I cannot continue, at least not for the moment.”

  “Are you telling me that you’re leaving the service?”

  “I’m telling you that I have just come back from hell, and that I need to rest.”

  “We are at war, there is no time to rest.”

  “If you are not giving me any alternative, then tell Lord James that I am leaving the service.”

  The man stood up. He did not seem at all surprised by anything that Amelia had told him, or if he was then he did not show it. She was surprised that he had not offered her a single word of sympathy for what she had gone through. Amelia did not know that this man had lost his wife and his three children in the Luftwaffe’s bombardment of London, and that he had no tears or pity left for anyone else.

  “Well, Guillermo, that’s your lot,” Major Hurley said.

  I sat bolt upright in my chair. His last words had jerked me back to the present day. I did not know how much time had passed since the major had started to tell me about this latest episode in my great-grandmother’s life. I looked at my watch and saw to my surprise that it was midnight.

  Lady Victoria smiled with delight to see how surprised I was. She had added a few observations to Major Hurley’s narrative. Her husband Lord Richard was sitting in his chair, his head nodding and a glass of port in one hand. I had gotten so caught up in the story that I had forgotten where I was and who I was with.

  Major Hurley’s narrative had transported me all the way to Warsaw. In my mind I had seen Amelia Garayoa walking through the city, and had shared with her the suffering of the months she had spent in Pawiak.