There was the headshaking again, and when it stopped both of them looked at Billie with vulnerable expressions, eyes hopeful. They wanted her to fix this. They needed her to.
“We are telling you everything we can,” Mrs. Brown reiterated. “We just need you to find our son.”
Mr. Brown said something to his wife again in a low voice. “Yes, you should mind the shop, Mikhall,” she agreed, and he stood up.
“Just one more thing,” Billie said as the man got up. “What do you think your son might be doing at a place like The Dancers?”
At that, Mrs. Brown’s eyebrows pulled together. Husband and wife exchanged puzzled looks.
“It’s an exclusive club off Victory Lane. Quite a high-end joint,” Billie added.
“We haven’t any idea. It’s not the sort of place he would go.We’venever been to such a place,” she said, as if that would discount his having been present.
“Well, itisthe sort of place he would go, because he did, but I agree it was not his sort of club under normal circumstances. The doormen saw him out.”
“I don’t know of this,” Mikhall said awkwardly, shrugging. He continued his short journey out of the office, those sloped shoulders and bent head leading the way. The door closed behind him. The women were again alone.
“Mrs. Brown... May I call you Netanya?”
Her client nodded. “Nettie is what most people call me.”
“Well, Nettie, please call me Billie, if you like.” She leaned closer. “Anythingyou can tell me about Adin’s life, Nettie, your family life, might help reveal why he was at The Dancers, trying to get in there. Anything. And it stays between us.”
“Do you think he got into trouble at this dance club?” Nettie looked stricken. “What was he doing?”
“At this point, I don’t know, but I’m doing my best to find out.” Billie could see that Nettie was almost at breaking point. “What more can you tell me about your family? Were you involved in the fur trade back in Germany?” Billie prodded.
Nettie’s eyes widened as Billie mentioned Germany, and then the tension went out of her and she slumped in her chair. After a beat she closed her eyes and nodded. “Yes. It is as you guess. We are Germans. It’s not a secret but we do not like to advertise the fact.”
Billie waited for more.
“We came from Berlin in 1936. Adin was quite young then, and I was worried about what I was seeing. I knew we had to leave. Mikhall took some convincing, but not much. He does not adapt so well, as you can see. It wasn’t a good time to be Jewish. Not in Germany. Not anywhere in Europe. I was never very religious, but Iam a Jew. I will always be a Jew.” She smoothed her skirt. “We took everything we could and started the fur company here in Sydney. It was our trade back in Germany, you see. My sister stayed, and my aunt and widowed mother. They shouldn’t have,” she said sadly. Her face was stoic as she spoke, but her eyes filled at the corners again. She was only just holding herself together.
Billie swallowed. She herself had reported on the infamous Warsaw Ghetto for the Hearst papers. She recalled seeing children as young as six forced to wear the yellow Star of David on their clothing, identifying them as Jewish, which led to bullying and worse. It was no wonder the Browns had wished to save Adin from such a fate. No matter how successful the Browns’ fur business in Berlin might have been—and perhaps that was one of the reasons some of the family stayed in Germany—it would eventually have been seized by the Nazis along with all their property. The fate of Nettie’s family members in Germany was not difficult to guess.
“You changed your family name?” Billie asked gently.
Mrs. Brown nodded. “Braunstein was our name. We simplified it.” She searched Billie’s face for judgment, some hint of rejection, but found her unchanged, professional and steady. “Do you think that all this... matters?” she finally asked.
“No,” Billie said. “The name doesn’t matter, so far as your son’s situation is concerned, but knowing the family history may prove helpful. You managed to avoid internment, is that right?”
Nettie nodded again. “Yes. We had naturalized. ‘Alien nationals,’ they called us, but though we were no longer Germans we still had restrictions on our movements. We weren’t allowed to travel without notifying the Australian authorities, and we weren’t allowed to own a wireless or a camera, even for work. We had to pay someone else totake photographs of the merchandise. It was expensive. A hard time for the business,” Nettie reflected.
“I imagine so.”
“My husband was too old for conscription, Adin too young,” she added. “We registered the factory to offer the manufacture of fur-lined uniforms, to try to do our bit, and we did make several hundred when they were needed. Rabbit, mostly. For a time it looked like Mikhall would be sent to a labor camp, but it did not happen. The rules kept changing,” she said.
How terrifying it must have been to flee Germany only to have the government of another country, let alone neighbors and rival business owners, view you with suspicion, Billie reflected. It sounded like the Browns—or Braunsteins—had been luckier than some, and certainly luckier than their loved ones who had remained in Berlin. But Billie could understand now why Nettie had seemed cagey, as if withholding something.
She pushed back memories of the war—and Jack. Him running out from their position to intervene as a young Jewish girl, identified by the compulsory Star of David armband on her dress, was tormented by two older fair-haired boys, the boys pulling at her clothing and slapping her, calling her filthy names like rat andJudensauas she wept, terrified. The girl had finally been thrown to the ground, her clothes torn. Jack scooped her up like she was as light as a feather and dried her tears as the boys ran away. They’d been children. Just children. Already taught to hate with such violence.
Jack.
“Do you know why your son might be interested in an auction? Have you heard of Georges Boucher before? The auctioneer?” Billie asked.
At this Nettie appeared utterly baffled. “An auction? What was he thinking?”
“I’m not sure. Does anything in this advertisement ring a bell?” Billie pulled the folded newspaper clipping from her pocket and spread it on the desk.
