Debut for a Spy (46 page)

Simon deteriorated rapidly under the perceived shame of his failure to provide. He developed bronchitis, and pains in his arms and chest from angina. He became an invalid, lying on the sofa in the dark.

Unable to find work, Tinie, an only child, said she would leave home, to save them the money for her keep. Her parents had sullenly but instantly agreed; too broken even to ask questions. She had found herself the cheapest room she could. She knew what she had to do; other young women from the Jewish community were doing it too.

Like the others, Tinie let it be known that her body would be available to a man she knew, on a regular basis, in return for financial help and, if possible, protection. The only men these young women knew who had the sort of money to help were friends of their fathers – like Manny’s Uncle Max.

Hirschfeld had known Simon Emmerik and his family for twenty years, since Tinie was a toddler, both as Simon’s superior at work, and through the synagogue. He paid Tinie enough to stop her family going hungry; he also paid the rent for the room. In return, he visited whenever he wanted.

Just as Manny was turning away, the door opened.

‘Manny! Oh Manny, what’s happened to you?’

‘It’s not as bad as it looks. I was, um, a bit unlucky. Can I come in? Tinie, have you been crying?’

‘No,’ Tinie said, dabbing at her tears.

Manny stepped into the poky, musty little room. It was so dark in here, he put the light on to read the newspaper when he came to see her, even at midday. It was also permanently ice-box cold - the sun pierced the narrow tenement street, finding its way in through the grimy lozenge of a window for no more than an hour, late every day. And Tinie carefully rationed the precious paraffin for the feeble heater.

‘Has Max been here?’

She bustled about, folding the camp-bed back flush to the wall, with a trace of embarrassment, to make more space. He looked away, not showing her he’d noticed the semen stains on the grubby towelling sheet. He’d already spotted the used condom in the waste-paper basket when he came in.

‘I’ll get your face cleaned up,’ she said. ‘Sit in the armchair where I can get at you.’

He grabbed her wrist as she passed. She was wearing a worn, tight red pullover and a long, blue woollen skirt. He repeated it, shouting: ‘Has Max been here? He has, hasn’t he? The place stinks of him.’

‘Yes! He has! You’ve just missed him.’ She looked at him, tenderly. ‘I’m alright, Manny. Truly I am. Please let go of my wrist, then I can see to your face. Anyway, you’re hurting me.’

He was mortified. ‘Sorry! Sorry, Tinie.’ He let go of her.

She took a chipped white china bowl and went outside, all the way down three flights of stairs, to the tap. While she was gone, Manny used the ‘silent’ toilet, behind the curtain. Its contents were taken away by the night soil cart every other day.

She was gone for ages. When she came back, her cheeks were flushed.

‘Those kids! Little urchins. They tied string across the stairs. I went flying. I was lucky the bowl didn’t smash. The other day the little horrors caught the night soil man.’

‘I know. He’s the first prize. Cover the steps in shit, and if possible break the night soil man’s leg. They compete with each other. I think there’s a league …’

She laughed.

He leaned back in the one battered armchair, took off his spectacles and shut his eyes.

She
put the heavy bowl of cold water down on a rickety gate-leg table, fetched a sliver of soap and some linen cloth from the dresser, broke off a corner of the soap and dropped it into the water. Then she soaked the cloth and dabbed at his face with it.

Manny dabbled two fingers in the water. It was cold and pure. The new sewage system, and their proximity to the harbour, made the clean water the pride of the Jewish Quarter.

‘Get your fingers out!’ She smacked his hand, fondly. ‘Naughty boy.’

‘Sorry, Tinie!’ He sucked his wet fingers. Even with traces of soap, the water tasted good.

She shot him a tender look, as she gently but thoroughly cleaned his grazes.

‘You should have been a nurse.’

‘I should have been anything but what I am.’

‘Tinie, don’t!’

‘Hmm. So what have you been doing, then?’

He opened one eye. ‘I thought you’d never ask.’

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