The Book Thief

FRAU HOLTZAPFEL’S OFFER

In the morning, the damage was inspected. No-one died, but two apartment blocks were reduced to pyramids of rubble, and Rudy’s favourite Hitler Youth field had an enormous bowl spooned out of it. Half the town stood around its circumference. People estimated its depth, to compare it with their shelters. Several boys and girls spat into it.

Rudy was standing next to Liesel. ‘Looks like they need to fertilise again.’

When the next few weeks were raid-free, life almost returned to normal. Two telling moments, however, were on their way.

THE DUAL EVENTS OF OCTOBER

Her wrinkles were like slander. Her voice was akin to a beating with a stick.

It was actually quite fortunate that they saw her coming from the living-room window, for her knuckles on the door were hard and decisive. They meant business.

Liesel heard the only words she dreaded.

‘You go and answer it,’ Mama said, and the girl, knowing only too well what was good for her, did as she was told.

‘Is your mama home?’ Frau Holtzapfel enquired. Constructed of fifty-year-old wire, she stood on the front step, looking back every so often to view the street. ‘Is that swine of a mother of yours here today?’

Liesel turned and called out.

DUDEN DICTIONARY MEANING #5

Soon, Rosa was behind her. ‘What do you want here? You want to spit on my kitchen floor now, too?’

Frau Holtzapfel was not deterred in the slightest. ‘Is that how you greet everyone who shows up at your front door? What a G’sindel.’

Liesel watched. She was unfortunate enough to be sandwiched between them. Rosa pulled her out of the way. ‘Well, are you going to tell me why you’re here or not?’

Once more Frau Holtzapfel looked at the street and back. ‘I have an offer for you.’

Mama shifted her weight. ‘Is that right?’

‘No, not you.’ She dismissed Rosa with a shrug of the voice and focused now on Liesel. ‘You.’

‘Well why did you ask for me then?’

‘Well I at least need your permission.’

Oh Maria, Liesel thought, this is all I need. What the hell can Holtzapfel want with me?

‘I liked that book you read in the shelter.’

No. You’re not getting it. Liesel was convinced of that. ‘Yes?’

‘I was hoping to hear the rest of it in the shelter but it looks like we’re safe for now.’ She rolled her shoulders and straightened the wire in her back. ‘So I want you to come to my place and read it to me.’

‘You’ve got some nerve, Holtzapfel.’ Rosa was deciding whether to be furious or not. ‘If you think —’

‘I’ll stop spitting on your door,’ she interrupted. ‘And I’ll give you my coffee ration.’

Rosa decided against being furious. ‘And some flour?’

‘What, are you a Jew? Just the coffee. You can swap the coffee with someone else for the flour.’

It was decided.

By everyone but the girl.

‘Good then, it’s done.’

‘Mama?’

‘Quiet, Saumensch. Go and get the book.’ Mama faced Frau Holtzapfel again. ‘What days suit you?’

‘Monday and Friday, four o’clock. And today, right now.’

Liesel followed the regimented footsteps to Frau Holtzapfel’s lodging next door, which was a mirror image of the Hubermanns’. If anything it was slightly larger.

When she sat down at the kitchen table, Frau Holtzapfel sat directly in front of her but faced the window. ‘Read,’ she said.

‘Chapter Two?’

‘No, Chapter Eight. Of course Chapter Two! Now get reading before I throw you out.’

‘Yes, Frau Holtzapfel.’

‘Never mind the yes Frau Holtzapfels. Just open the book. We don’t have all day.’

Good God, Liesel thought. This is my punishment for all that stealing. It’s finally caught up with me.

She read for forty-five minutes, and when the chapter was finished, a bag of coffee was deposited on the table.

‘Thank you,’ the woman said. ‘It’s a good story.’ She turned towards the stove and started on some potatoes. Without looking back, she said, ‘Are you still here, are you?’

Liesel took that as her cue to leave. ‘Danke schön, Frau Holtzapfel.’ By the door, when she saw the framed photos of two young men in military uniform, she also threw in a Heil Hitler, her arm raised in the kitchen.

‘Yes.’ Frau Holtzapfel was proud, and afraid. Two sons in Russia. ‘Heil Hitler.’ She put her water down to boil and even found the manners to walk the few steps with Liesel to the front door. ‘Bis morgen?’

The next day was Friday. ‘Yes, Frau Holtzapfel. Until tomorrow.’

Liesel calculated that there were four more reading sessions like that with Frau Holtzapfel before the Jews were marched through Molching.

They were going to Dachau, to concentrate.

That makes two weeks, she would later write in the basement. Two weeks to change the world, and fourteen days to ruin it.