The Book Thief

THE VISITOR

A new ball had been found for Himmel Street football. That was the good news. The somewhat unsettling news was that a division of the Nazi Party was heading towards them.

They’d progressed all the way through Molching, street by street, house by house, and now they stood at Frau Diller’s shop, having a quick smoke before they continued with their business.

There was already a smattering of air-raid shelters in Molching, but it was decided soon after the bombing of Cologne that a few more certainly wouldn’t hurt. The NSDAP was inspecting each and every house in order to see if its basement was a good enough candidate.

From afar, the children watched.

They could see the smoke rising out of the pack.

Liesel had only just come out and she’d walked over to Rudy and Tommy. Harald Mollenhauer was retrieving the ball. ‘What’s going on up there?’

Rudy put his hands in his pockets. ‘The Party.’ He inspected his friend’s progress with the ball in Frau Holtzapfel’s front hedge. ‘They’re checking all the houses and apartment blocks.’

Instant dryness seized the interior of Liesel’s mouth. ‘For what?’

‘Don’t you know anything? Tell her, Tommy.’

Tommy was perplexed. ‘Well I don’t know.’

‘You’re hopeless, the pair of you. They need more air-raid shelters.’

‘What – basements?’

‘No, attics. Of course basements. Jesus, Liesel, you really are thick, aren’t you?’

The ball was back.

‘Rudy!’

He played onto it and Liesel was still standing. How could she get back inside without looking too suspicious? The smoke up at Frau Diller’s was disappearing and the small crowd of men was starting to disperse. Panic generated in that awful way. Throat and mouth. Air became sand. Think, she thought. Come on, Liesel, think, think.

Rudy scored.

Faraway voices congratulated him.

Think, Liesel —

She had it.

That’s it, she decided, but I have to make it real.

As the Nazis progressed down the street, painting the letters LSR on some of the doors, the ball was passed through the air to one of the bigger kids, Klaus Behrig.

LSR

The boy turned with the ball just as Liesel arrived, and they collided with such force that the game stopped automatically. As the ball rolled off, players ran in. Liesel held her grazed knee with one hand and her head with the other. Klaus Behrig only held his right shin, grimacing and cursing. ‘Where is she?’ he spat. ‘I’m going to kill her!’

There would be no killing.

It was worse.

A kindly Party member had seen the incident and jogged dutifully down to the group. ‘What happened here?’ he asked.

‘Well she’s a maniac.’ Klaus pointed at Liesel, prompting the man to help her up. His tobacco breath formed a smoky sandhill in front of her face.

‘I don’t think you’re in any state to keep playing, my girl,’ he said. ‘Where do you live?’

‘I’m fine,’ she answered. ‘Really. I can make it myself.’ Just get off me, get off me!

That was when Rudy stepped in, the eternal stepper-inner. Why couldn’t he just mind his own business for a change?

‘Really,’ Liesel said. ‘Just keep playing, Rudy. I can make it.’

‘No, no.’ He wouldn’t be shifted. The stubbornness of him! ‘It’ll only take a minute or two.’

Again, she had to think, and again she was able. With Rudy holding her up, she made herself drop once more to the ground, on her back. ‘My papa,’ she said. The sky, she noticed, was utterly blue. Not even the suggestion of a cloud. ‘Could you get him, Rudy?’

‘Stay there.’ To his right, he called out, ‘Tommy, watch her, will you? Don’t let her move.’

Tommy snapped into action. ‘I’ll watch her, Rudy.’ He stood above her, twitching and trying not to smile, as Liesel kept an eye on the Party man.

A minute later, Hans Hubermann was standing calmly above her.

‘Hey, Papa.’

A disappointed smile mingled with his lips. ‘I was wondering when this would happen.’

He picked her up and helped her home. The game went on, and the Nazi was already at the door of a lodging a few doors up. No-one answered. Rudy was calling out again.

‘Do you need help, Herr Hubermann?’

‘No, no, you keep playing, Herr Steiner.’ Herr Steiner. You had to love Liesel’s papa.

Once inside, Liesel gave him the information. She attempted to find the middle ground between silence and despair. ‘Papa.’

‘Don’t talk.’

‘The Party,’ she whispered. Papa stopped. He fought off the urge to open the door and look up the street. ‘They’re checking basements to make shelters.’

He set her down. ‘Smart girl,’ he said, then called for Rosa.

They had a minute to come up with a plan. A shemozzle of thoughts.

‘We’ll just put him in Liesel’s room,’ was Mama’s suggestion. ‘Under the bed.’

‘That’s it? What if they decide to search our rooms as well?’

‘Do you have a better plan?’

Correction: they did not have a minute.

A seven-punch knock was hammered into the door of 33 Himmel Street, and it was too late to move anyone anywhere.

The voice.

‘Open up!’

Their heartbeats fought each other, a mess of rhythm. Liesel tried to eat hers down. The taste of heart was not too cheerful.

Rosa whispered. ‘Jesus, Mary …’

This time it was Papa who rose to the occasion. He rushed to the basement door and threw a warning down the steps. When he returned, he spoke fast and fluent. ‘Look, there is no time for tricks. We could distract him a hundred different ways but there is only one solution.’ He eyed the door and summed up. ‘Nothing.’

That was not the answer Rosa wanted. Her eyes widened. ‘Nothing? Are you crazy?’

The knocking resumed.

Papa was strict. ‘Nothing. We don’t even go down there – not a care in the world.’

Everything slowed.

Rosa accepted it.

Clenched with distress, she shook her head and proceeded to answer the door.

‘Liesel.’ Papa’s voice sliced her up. ‘Just stay calm, verstehst?’

‘Yes, Papa.’

She tried to concentrate on her bleeding leg.

‘Aha!’

At the door, Rosa was still asking the meaning of this interruption when the kindly Party man noticed Liesel.

‘The maniacal footballer!’ he grinned. ‘How’s the knee?’ You don’t usually imagine the Nazis being too chirpy, but this man certainly was. He came in and made as if to crouch and view the injury.

Does he know? Liesel thought. Can he smell we’re hiding a Jew?

Papa came from the sink with a wet cloth and soaked it onto Liesel’s knee. ‘Does it sting?’ His silver eyes were caring and calm. The scare in them could easily be mistaken as concern for the injury.

Rosa called across the kitchen. ‘It can’t sting enough. Maybe it will teach her a lesson.’

The Party man stood and laughed. ‘I don’t think this girl is learning any lessons out there, Frau …?’

‘Hubermann.’ The cardboard contorted.

‘… Frau Hubermann – I think she teaches lessons.’ He handed Liesel a smile. ‘To all those boys. Am I right, young girl?’

Papa shoved the cloth into the graze and Liesel winced rather than answered. It was Hans who spoke. A quiet sorry, to the girl.

There was the discomfort of silence then, and the Party man remembered his purpose. ‘If you don’t mind,’ he explained, ‘I need to inspect your basement, just for a minute or two, to see if it’s suitable for a shelter.’

Papa gave Liesel’s knee a final dab. ‘You’ll have a nice bruise there, too, Liesel.’ Casually, he acknowledged the man above them. ‘Certainly. First door on the right. Please excuse the mess.’

‘I wouldn’t worry – it can’t be worse than some of the others I’ve seen today. This one?’

‘That’s it.’

THE LONGEST THREE MINUTES IN HUBERMANN HISTORY

They listened to Nazi footsteps in the basement. There was the sound of measuring tape. Liesel could not ward off the thought of Max sitting beneath the steps, huddled around his sketch book, hugging it to his chest.

Papa stood. Another idea.

He walked to the hall and called out. ‘Everything good down there?’

The answer ascended the steps, on top of Max Vandenburg. ‘Another minute perhaps!’

‘Would you like some coffee, some tea?’

‘No thank you!’

When Papa returned, he ordered Liesel to fetch a book and for Rosa to start cooking. He decided the last thing they should do was sit around looking worried. ‘Well come on,’ he said loudly, ‘move it, Liesel. I don’t care if your knee hurts. You have to finish that book, like you said.’

Liesel tried not to break. ‘Yes, Papa.’

‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ It took great effort to wink at her, she could tell.

In the corridor, she nearly collided with the Party man.

‘In trouble with your papa, huh? Never mind. I’m the same with my own children.’

They walked their separate ways and when Liesel made it to her room, she closed the door and fell to her knees, despite the added pain. She listened first to the judgement that the basement was too shallow, then the goodbyes, one of which was sent down the corridor. ‘Goodbye, maniacal footballer!’

She remembered herself. ‘Auf Wiedersehen! Goodbye!’

The Dream Carrier simmered in her hands.

According to Papa, Rosa melted next to the stove the moment the Party man was gone. They collected Liesel and made their way to the basement, removing the well-placed dust sheets and paint tins. Max Vandenburg sat beneath the steps, holding his rusty scissors like a knife. His armpits were soggy and the words fell like injuries from his mouth.

‘I wouldn’t have used them,’ he quietly said. ‘I’m …’ He held the rusty arms, flat against his forehead. ‘I’m so sorry I put you through that.’

Papa lit a cigarette. Rosa took the scissors.

‘You’re alive,’ she said. ‘We all are.’

It was too late now for apologies.