She felt hurt and humiliated, and summoned up the very last of her selfrespect. 'Well, I won't, understand? And you can tell your friend Noack so too.'
He undid his fly. 'Then we'll have to make the lady a little more willing.' She did not defend herself: it would have been no use. He took her as ruthlessly as ever. The dreaded orgasm came. Afterwards she lay there breathing hard, the victim of her own addiction. He casually did up his trousers. 'Well, darling, have we thought better of it?'
She called on all her strength. 'Not if you stand on your head. I just won't go along with a thing like that.'
Then he beat her, cold as ice, systematically, until she was a whimpering heap. She dragged herself into the bathroom. A swollen, bloodstained horror mask looked back at her from the mirror. 'You'll be as good as new by the time Favarel arrives,' he told her.
The swelling went down, the wounds healed. Her black eye lasted longer, and her injuries gave her time to think, not that she needed it. The will to survive that she had developed in Riibenstrasse told her it was time. Time to go, she thought, just as she had when she set out from Moabit to the smarter area of Berlin.
She packed her things one Monday, folding her most precious possession, Grandmother Mine's white lace scarf, and putting it at the top of her suitcase. Fredie wouldn't be home before seven. That gave her the advance on him she needed. She got a Reich Railways timetable, and put a cross beside a connection from Berlin to Hanover and on to Essen, laying a false trail to be on the safe side. She didn't think Fredie would weep many tears over her, though. He'd just train some other girl. On the other hand, she mustn't underestimate his possessive instincts. He had spent a good deal on her, and he might not be ready simply to wave goodbye to his investment.
She had kept the old passport that gave her name as Marlene Kaschke, a memento of a short trip to Austria. Fredie had found some old Archduke in Baden near Vienna, totally gaga, but he paid well. She'd had to dress up as a schoolgirl and sit on His Royal-and-Imperial Highness's lap.
She had long ago found out where Fredie kept a supply of cash: in the lavatory cistern, packed in oilskin. She took far less than the considerable amount due to her after all these years.
She was briefly tempted to turn to Frank Saunders for help, but quickly rejected the idea. Frank was a paying customer. Paying customers, however nice they might be, wanted a short-term playmate with no strings attached, not someone's runaway wife.
There was a note stuck in the passport. She took it out and read the firm, slightly clumsy handwriting. It was the address that Franz Giese had written down for her back in the past. She had entirely forgotten it, but now it was like a sign from Fate. Of course, Giese would help her. She was about to put the note back where she had found it when the telephone rang. It was Anita, an acquaintance: would she like to go to the movies? 'Sorry, I can't today. See you soon!' Marlene hung up and put the passport in her handbag. The note dropped to the floor.
She took the S-Bahn to Schoneberg. It wasn't far from the station. The entrance hall of the building still smelled of soft soap. She pressed the doorbell on the second floor. It was a little while before he opened the door. 'Fraulein Lene?' he asked, surprised. 'Come in.' He was wearing braces and a collarless, striped, blue wool shirt. His friendly, boyish face had grown thinner, but it was as calm and full of good sense as ever. A man you could rely on, Marlene's instincts told her.
He spoke slowly and deliberately. That hadn't changed either. 'It's pure chance you found me in. I'm just getting the papers ready for my next trip with the truck. They check up on me quite often, my rival Meier sees to that. He's a fanatical Party member, grudges a former Socialist like me the least little thing. Well, never mind that. I'm not interested in politics these days. How are you, Fraulein Lene?'
'Frau Marlene Neubert. I married Fredie. He still makes me go with other men, and he beats me. Herr Giese, I have to get away.'
'Franz to you, Fraulein Lene. Let me make us a coffee. The truck can wait.'
Everything in the living room was as it had been on her first visit: the round dining table, the chairs with their dark-red, velour upholstery, the rutting stag in his gilt frame, the lace covers on the plush sofa, the pot plant in the window.
He had put on a collar and tie, and now carried a tray with the coffee pot, cups, and a tin of biscuits to the table. 'So you've started up your haulage business.'
'With a three-wheeled Tempo. As a one-man outfit I couldn't afford more. You want to get away from him?'
Can I stay here? I mean just for the time being, until I find somewhere else. I'm sure we'd get on all right. And I owe you a hundred and fifty marks,' she said boldly.
He lowered his gaze. 'I don't like to hear you say such things. And I don't want you to stay either. Not the way you mean. I want everything to be right and proper between us. If you want me at all, then I'll wait, if you don't mind.'
'You're the nicest man I know.'
He cleared his throat, embarrassed. A lady I know keeps a boarding house in Charlottenburg. I'll give you a note to take her. What are you planning to do?'
'Be an usherette, I hope.' She laughed. 'I always wanted to be something in the movies.'
The Pension Wolke was in Windscheidstrasse, on the first floor of an apartment building, and looked neat and tidy. In addition, it was a good base for job-seeking at the cinemas of western Berlin.
Frau Wolke introduced Marlene to the other lodgers, beginning with the girl in the room next to hers, who was about her own age and another blonde. Otherwise they were different in almost every way. Henriette von Aichborn wore simple, practical clothes and not a trace of make-up, and had a friendly if slightly distant way of addressing people.
Not like a posh aristocrat with a von in her name at all. Marlene soon took to her. 'Like to come to the pictures?' she asked. 'I'm thinking of applying for an usherette's job at the UfA Palace, and I'd like to see the new film with Willy Fritsch.'
'That's very kind of you, but I'm expecting a visitor.'
'If you'd make do with me…?' Herr Kohler adjusted his monocle. He had the room across the passage, and Marlene did not care for his manner. She was a good judge of men.
'No, thank you,' she politely turned him down.
On Monday she applied to the Marmor Haus cinema and the UfA Film Theatre, on Tuesday to the Astor and the Kurbel. No one needed an usherette. She considered her situation over a cup of coffee on the terrace of the Cafe Schilling. Perhaps it would be better to leave Berlin. Even if Fredie wasn't looking for her, she might still run into him. Involuntarily, she turned round. There was only an old gentleman reading the paper behind her.
She postponed her decision. Berlin was still Berlin, everywhere else was the provinces. But the real reason for her hesitation was called Franz Giese. Better a modest future than none, she thought. And Frau Giese doesn't sound so bad. She pushed aside the thought of facing Fredie and asking him for a divorce. 'It will all work out,' she comforted herself.
She had seen a pair of white sandals that she couldn't resist in the window of the Salamander show store. That evening she lay on her bed in her dressing gown, painting her toenails. She had cotton wool between her toes. 'Come in,' she called cheerfully, when someone knocked.
It was Fraulein von Aichborn. 'I hope I'm not disturbing you?' She looked at Marlene's artwork with interest. Obviously she hadn't seen it done before.
'Looks good with bare legs. Bright red is just the thing for blondes. Like to try?'
Another time I'd love to.' Her fellow lodger came straight to the point. A friend of mine has invited me to spend the weekend on the Havel in his motorboat. I'd like to take a friend along to play gooseberry. Would you care to come?'