Osewoudt pictured her lying fully dressed on the bed, her heart pounding, the bedside lamp switched on. She would have waited for it to strike eleven and then thought: eleven o’clock, everyone has to be off the streets now.
The car stopped. They had arrived at Zuidwal hospital.
Two male nurses took him to the first aid room; one of the German policemen accompanied them.
A young doctor came in and examined Osewoudt at once. The German sat on a chair in a corner.
‘Doctor,’ whispered Osewoudt, ‘could you do me a favour? Could you telephone 22575, in Leiden? Ask for Marianne Sondaar. Tell her that Filip has been caught by the Germans, and that he’s in hospital.’
‘Of course I’ll tell her. Leave it to me, I’ll phone.’ He smiled: ‘You’re lucky to be here. There are no serious injuries.’
‘No. But Doctor, I feel very ill. You may not be able to find anything serious, but I’m in a terrible state.’
Osewoudt screwed up his eyes and thought: now he’ll go and tell the Germans there’s nothing wrong with me!
He felt much better now that the blood had been washed off his face.
The gash in his eyebrow was stitched.
He was bathed and put in a clean bed in a small room all to himself. The curtains were drawn but the light came in nonetheless. He was served ersatz tea and toast. The nurse told him there was a German guard in the corridor, and that the room he was in was on the second floor, so it was no good trying to jump from the window.
‘You must be joking,’ he retorted. ‘I’m too ill, you can’t imagine the pain I’m in. Please give me a sleeping pill. I didn’t sleep all night and I’m still wide awake.’
‘The doctor didn’t say anything about a sleeping pill. Try and relax, then you’ll fall asleep of your own accord. There’s nothing seriously wrong with you, some bruising and a bloody nose, that’s all. Those stitches will hurt for a bit, but they can come out in a couple of days. We won’t tell the Germans there’s nothing wrong with you, you needn’t worry!’
She smiled, stroked his cheek, then looked at him very earnestly while allowing her hand to linger on his face, as if she were trying to make up her mind about something. Finally she made for the door.
‘I’m Sister Angela,’ she said as she left. The name almost sounded like an alias. Her name might not be Angela at all, any more than Marianne’s is Marianne Sondaar. How many people are still using their real names? Who can you trust? Perhaps the doctor is in league with Ebernuss, maybe the Germans are even now busy matching the telephone number I gave the doctor with the address, maybe Marianne will be arrested in the next half-hour. Maybe they only brought me here to see whether I’m witless enough to tell the doctor and the nurse everything they want to know.
Who can be trusted? Everyone’s deceiving everyone else.
He wondered what had happened to the boy. How long would young Walter have stood there watching the horses and carts? Perhaps he’d grown tired after an hour and had sat down on the pavement, still hoping that ‘Uncle’ would reappear and take him to the children’s home, and that he would get his knife with Meine Ehre heisst Treue! engraved on the blade. But he’d have become upset eventually, he’d have spoken to some grown-up, or some grown-up would have spoken to him: what’s your name, little boy? Where are you from? Lunteren? Where are you going? To a children’s home with Uncle? Did Uncle leave you all by yourself? What does Uncle look like? How did you get here? With Uncle and Auntie? By train? Where’s Auntie now? Went off with two men in leather coats, on the train? And Auntie wore a uniform? A black astrakhan cap with an orange top? Uncle not in uniform then? What sort of uncle can he be, leaving you stranded in the middle of Amsterdam?
They go to Lunteren to investigate. They call the German police. In the meantime Hey You has told them everything she knows, which isn’t much, but then maybe they’ve shown her my photo, which they’re bound to do if they’re showing it in the cinemas … The bodies of Lagendaal and his wife are identified, possibly in Walter’s presence. The bullets are extracted. Where is the pistol that fired the bullets?
I know where it is, thought Osewoudt, Marianne has it. I gave it to Marianne in the cinema. But I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve arrested her already. Everyone I have anything to do with gets into trouble. There’s no hope for me either.
No hope for me — the last thought of a drowning man as he sinks to the bottom. He could feel himself sinking.
But he did not sink to the bottom. He woke up to find the doctor standing by his hospital bed and the sun streaming into the room.
‘I made that phone call, as you asked. Miss Sondaar told me to give Filip her regards.’
‘Didn’t she say anything else?’
‘Yes! I know her family quite well, as it happens. They lived next door to us until I was about ten. She was a toddler when we moved away. They were very well-to-do. Her parents and her brother have been sent to Germany, because they’re Jews.’
‘That is very sad,’ said Osewoudt.
‘Look,’ said the doctor, ‘I didn’t like to mention any of this in the first-aid room with the German soldier there, but it’s an extraordinary coincidence.’
‘My turning to you for help is even more of a coincidence.’
‘Yes. It seemed a bit rash, especially for someone who’s just been beaten up by the Germans for refusing to talk. And then, suddenly, giving a doctor, a complete stranger, the telephone number of a girlfriend who urgently needs to be informed of his arrest!’
‘Who else is there for me to ask?’
The doctor smiled. ‘So you rely on the kindness of strangers.’
‘I don’t have much choice. All my contacts are ruined. My sick mother and my wife have been arrested by the Germans. My uncle’s been arrested. Two girls I know were arrested. There’s no one left. You must understand, Doctor, they have it in for me. Chances are I won’t get out of this alive.’
The doctor pulled out a chair from under the bed and sat down. He looked round at the closed door and said: ‘We’ll have to think of something. It’s always easier to escape from a hospital than from a police station or a prison. Patients have been known to abscond from hospitals, after all.
‘The stitches may still be painful, you may think you can’t get up and walk, but believe me, there’s nothing wrong really, no internal injuries at all. I’ll lay it on a bit thick for the Germans so we can keep you here as long as possible, but it’ll be more like days than weeks. As I said, it’s a miracle they brought you here at all.’
Osewoudt remembered what Wülfing had said about Ebernuss’ proclivities. But he was ashamed to think that that was the reason Ebernuss had wanted to spare him. He choked with rage at the idea. His next thought was: this doctor must have noticed immediately that I have no beard. What will he think if I tell him that’s probably why the bloody Obersturmführer had them take me to hospital?
‘Look here, Doctor.’
‘Yes?’
‘I haven’t done anything, really. I’m innocent. I’d rather be a hero, but as it happens I’m innocent. Apparently there’s someone going around who looks like me, very much like me, in fact. It’s that person’s crimes they’re accusing me of. The Germans confronted me with another prisoner. He swore he knew me. I had never seen him before. That prisoner said he had spoken to me only a week ago, at the main entrance to Vondel Park in Amsterdam. I have never been there in my life. He insisted that we had talked about arms from England being dropped by parachute. He said I asked him about detonators. But I don’t even know what detonators are, and it was the first I ever heard of arms being parachuted in by the English. It was that kind of waffle the Germans beat me up for, Doctor! I’m not a hero, I’m a victim. They have me mixed up with someone else. Last night I was in a cinema. They projected a man’s photograph on the screen, along with my name. The photo looked like me. Wanted for robbery with assault, it said, 500 guilders reward. I was scared stiff, so I ran for it. As I left the cinema the doorman recognised me. He called the police, the swine. That’s how the Germans got hold of me. I didn’t do a thing, nothing at all. Tell me Doctor, is it true that it isn’t too difficult to escape from a hospital?’