She returned a few moments later. She wore a white high-necked blouse, a gray cardigan, and gray pleated skirt. Her only jewelry was her wedding ring.
"I must apologize for my husband, he has been very ill."
She shook Helen's hand, and nodded formally to the baron, gesturing for him to remain seated. She then withdrew the typist's swivel chair, lifting Helen's coat and placing it across the table. She seemed to perch rather than sit, her knees pressed together, her hands clasped in front of her.
Helen looked to the baron, but he gave a small lift of his eyebrows as an indication she should open the conversation. She coughed, and chose her words carefully.
"The baron's wife, Vebekka Marechal — we are trying to trace her relatives, and as I said to you in my telephone call, we think she may have been your sister's daughter. Your sister was Rosa Muller?"
"Yes, that is correct."
Helen continued. "She married a David Goldberg?... and they lived in Canada and then Philadelphia, yes?"
"Yes, that is correct."
The baron cleared his throat. "Do you have a photograph of their daughter, of Rebecca Goldberg?"
"No, I lost contact with my sister before she left for Canada. I know they emigrated to Philadelphia, but we did not keep in touch. Her husband's cousin, a man named Ulrich Goldberg, wrote to me that she had passed away."
Helen bit her lip. "We need as much information as you can give us about Rebecca and obviously your sister."
Lena swiveled slightly in her seat. Her toes touched the ground, the folds of her pleated skirt falling to either side of her closed knees. She answered in English.
"I know nothing of... Rebecca, you say? I cannot help you."
"But Rosa was your sister?"
"Yes, Rosa was my sister."
Lena suddenly swiveled around to the bookshelf, reached over and took down a thick photograph album. She began to search through the pages of photographs. She spoke in heavily accented English, as if to prove a point — that she was aware of how uncomfortable they were.
"I find it somewhat strange that after forty years I am asked about Rosa! You say it is in reference to your wife, Baron? Is that correct?"
Helen went to stand by Lena. "The baroness is very ill, and we have come to see a specialist in East Berlin who may be able to help her. It is his suggestion that we should try and discover as much about her past as possible."
Lena nodded. "And this is Rebecca? Correct?... But there must be some confusion. She could not be my sister's child." She paused, turned back two pages, and then showed Helen the photograph.
"This was Rosa when she was seventeen, 1934."
Helen stared at the picture of an exceptionally pretty blond-haired teenager, with white ribbons in her hair, white ankle socks, and a school uniform. Next to her stood Lena, taller, fatter, and not nearly as pretty. She had been as stern-faced a teenager as she was now in middle age. Helen passed over the photograph album to the baron. Lena hesitated, her hand out, obviously not wanting the baron to take possession of the album. "That is the only photograph, there is no point in looking at any others."
"Lena, is there some way we could contact any of David Goldberg's friends or family, do you know if any of his relatives are still living in Berlin?" Helen asked.
"No. I did not know Rosa's husband, they met at the university. As I said, I have not spoken to my sister for more than forty years."
The baron turned over a few pages, and Lena got up and retrieved her book. She stared at the neatly laid-out photographs, some brown with age. "Berlin has seen many changes since these were taken. My family home—" She pointed to an elegant four-story house. "It was bombed, all our possessions, we lost everything but a few pieces, the other photographs are just my family, my mementos — nothing to do with Rosa!"
Lena held on to the book, touched it lovingly before she replaced it in the shelf, and then hesitated. "I agreed to see you, because I know Rosa was well off... as you can see, money is short — I thought perhaps she had made provisions for me. Obviously I was wrong." She stared from Helen to the baron and then, tight-lipped, remained standing. "I am sorry, but it seems very obvious that I cannot help you."
Helen reached for her coat, making as if to prepare to leave. "Rosa was a doctor? Is that correct?"
"She was a medical student, she did not finish her studies here, she continued in Canada, after the war." Lena folded her arms.
"Was her husband a doctor?"
Lena shook her head. "No, my father, my grandfather were also doctors..."
"But Rosa and David met at the university?"
"Yes, but he was studying languages, I believe. When they went to Canada, I heard he went in the fur business."
Helen looked at Louis, wishing he would say something, ask something; but he sat on the edge of his seat, obviously wanting to leave.
"Er... you said earlier that Rebecca could not have been Rosa's daughter... was she perhaps David Goldberg's daughter?"
"I don't know."
"But why are you so sure she could not have been Rosa's child?"
Lena pursed her lips, clenched her hands. She then carefully pushed her chair under the table. "Rosa could not have children."
Helen persisted. "Could you give me the reason?"
Lena faced her. "Because she had an abortion when she was seventeen years old, a backstreet abortion, paid for by that creature she ran off with and married. She nearly died, and she broke my father's heart. When he discovered her relationship, he would have nothing to do with her, he begged her to give David up, but she refused. He tried everything, he even kept her under lock and key to stop him from seeing her. She was obsessed by David and so she ran away, and my father never spoke to her again."
"This was when?"
Lena rubbed her head. "She ran off on the second of June, it was 1934, they ran away together, we discovered they had married."
"They went to Canada?"
"Yes, to Canada. His family were wealthy, they must have had contacts there to help him set himself up in business; they always help each other!"
Helen began to put her coat on. "Did they ever come back?"
Lena nodded. "I believe so, but not for a long time, not until after the war. The Goldbergs had property here!"
"So they came back to Berlin?"
"Yes, yes I believe so."
"And you didn't see him or speak to him?"
"No."
"Did you see Rosa when she came back?"
"No."
"And you cannot give us any clue as to any relatives?"
Lena stared hard at Helen, her eyes expressionless. "He had no one left, but a distant cousin, Ulrich Goldberg, who was already residing in the United States. Rosa never contacted her mother, never visited her father's, her brother's graves. As far as I am concerned, my sister died a long time ago, the day she ran away... Now I should be grateful if you would leave."
The baron gripped Helen's elbow, wanting to get out, but she stood firm. "Do you think your sister could have adopted Rebecca when she returned to Berlin? Could she have adopted a child then, knowing she could not have children of her own?"
Lena pushed past Helen and opened the door. "I have told you all I know, please leave now."
Helen snatched up her purse and walked out, as the baron folded money and handed it to Lena. "Thank you for your time, I appreciate it."
He followed Helen to the front door. Lena watched them, her hand clenched around the thick wad of folded bills.
The stale smell of cabbage filled the hallway as they hurried along the stone corridor.
"She worked in a hospital for three months... I don't know where, I have told you all I know..."
The baron guided Helen down the stairs, holding her elbow lightly in the crook of his hand. "The family album was interesting! Did you get a chance to see any of the other photographs? The father was like an SS officer, the brothers were all in uniform too." He shook his head. "Can you believe it? She wouldn't see her sister for forty-odd years, and then thinks she may have left her something!"