The Book Thief

THE SCHMUNZELLER

Minutes later, a second knocker was at the door.

‘Good Lord, another one!’

Worry resumed immediately. Max was covered up.

Rosa trudged up the basement steps, but when she opened the door this time, it was not the Nazis. It was none other than Rudy Steiner. He stood there, yellow-haired and good-intentioned. ‘I just came to see how Liesel is.’

When she heard his voice, Liesel started making her way up the steps. ‘I can deal with this one.’

‘Her boyfriend,’ Papa mentioned to the paint tins. He blew another mouthful of smoke.

‘He is not my boyfriend,’ Liesel countered, but she was not irritated. It was impossible after such a close call. ‘I’m only going up because Mama will be yelling out any second.’

‘Liesel!’

She was on the fifth step. ‘See?’

When she reached the door, Rudy moved from foot to foot. ‘I just came to see —’ He stopped. ‘What’s that smell?’ He sniffed. ‘Have you been smoking in there?’

‘Oh. I was sitting with Papa.’

‘Do you have any cigarettes? Maybe we can sell some.’

Liesel wasn’t in the mood for this. She spoke quietly enough so that Mama wouldn’t hear. ‘I don’t steal from my papa.’

‘But you steal from certain other places.’

‘Talk a bit louder, why don’t you.’

Rudy schmunzelled. ‘See what stealing does? You’re all worried.’

‘Like you’ve never stolen anything.’

‘Yes, but you reek of it.’ Rudy was really warming up now. ‘Maybe that’s not cigarette smoke after all.’ He leaned closer and smiled. ‘It’s a criminal I can smell. You should have a bath.’ He shouted back to Tommy Muller. ‘Hey, Tommy, you should come and have a smell of this!’

‘What did you say?’ Trust Tommy. ‘I can’t hear you!’

Rudy shook his head in Liesel’s direction. ‘Useless.’

She started shutting the door. ‘Get lost, Saukerl, you’re the last thing I need right now.’

Very pleased with himself, Rudy made his way back to the street. At the letterbox he seemed to remember what he’d wanted to verify all along. He came back a few steps. ‘Alles gut, Saumensch? The injury, I mean.’

It was June. It was Germany. Things were on the verge of decay.

Liesel was unaware of this. For her, the Jew in her basement had not been revealed. Her foster parents were not taken away, and she herself had contributed greatly to both accomplishments.

‘Everything’s good,’ she said, and she was not talking about a football injury of any description.

She was fine.