Page 26 of The Watchmaker of Dachau

Levi picked up a rake and, whistling a tune, made his way out of the shed, leaving Isaac with the bag of inmates’ belongings.

Isaac had been working less than an hour when Herr Schmidt came to the shed and handed him a telephone, the base broken and the wires escaping like octopus tentacles. ‘Fix this,’ he said, and placed it on the homemade table. ‘They’ll need it today, so be quick.’

Schmidt left as quickly as he’d entered, and Isaac heard him shout something at Levi, who did not reply.

The phone was dented in the base, a crack along the stem. He had never fixed a phone before – had never owned one either.

He stood and opened the shed door, calling out to Levi, who ambled over, the smile on his face once more.

‘What can I do for you?’ Levi asked, leaning on the rake.

‘Have you seen a telephone before?’ Isaac showed him the mess that he had in his hands.

‘I actually had one myself. Two, if you count the one in my office. I’m not so sure I know how they work, mind you.’ Levi looked closer at the wires, the base. ‘Seems to me those wires there need to be connected to the base – see where they have come away. Then, I suppose, check the earpiece and the speaker, make sure they are all connected too – I can’t see how else you could do it.’

‘They need it by today,’ Isaac said worriedly, looking at the foreign object.

‘You’ll do it, I can tell,’ Levi said.

‘And how can you tell?’

‘You just look like you can.’

Isaac did not look at him, his gaze on the telephone, imagining using it, calling someone for help – but who?

‘You need to smile more, you know,’ Levi suddenly said.

‘What are you talking about?’ Isaac raised his head.

Levi was staring at him as if he could read Isaac’s thoughts and see his memories, his brows knitted together as he spoke. ‘I mean it, you need to smile more. Start smiling and soon you’ll feel happier. It works.’ Levi bent down to pick at some weeds.

‘There is nothing to smile about.’

Levi stopped pulling at the weeds and propped himself on the wooden rake once more. ‘You have known me what, an hour or so at best, but have you seen me without a smile?’

‘You look as though you are simply having a rest from tending your own garden; leaning on your rake as though you have all the time in the world.’

‘And I do. Have all the time in the world. You didn’t answer my question. Have you ever seen me without a smile?’

‘No,’ Isaac answered. ‘It makes you look simple. As if you don’t see what is going on around you.’ He lowered his gaze and began to look at the mess of wires once more, Levi’s questioning unnerving him – reminding him a little of Hannah, who always told Isaac to stop being so serious, to try and look at the world through kinder, happier eyes. ‘You can’t find happiness here,’ Isaac said simply.

‘You know, Isaac, my home was taken from me. My business. My wife and children sent to a different camp, where I expect they are dead or dying.’

‘And yet you smile.’

‘Yet I do. Can’t you see, Isaac? They have taken everything from me – everything. But this – my humour, who I am – they cannot. I was happy before in my life. Always joking, playing, smiling. I decided that no matter how I feel, no matter what they try and take away from me, I will keep this humour, I will keep who I am. Who were you before you came here?’

Isaac stopped and looked up once more. ‘Does it matter?’

‘Of course it matters. Come on, who were you before?’

‘I was Isaac, with a dead wife. I was alone with my workshop and my watches. I had friends who I ate and drank with. I had God. But now, I have nothing.’

‘You still have God,’ Levi said, opening his arms towards the sky as if God Himself were visible above him.

Isaac looked at the grey mulch of clouds overhead and tried to see through them – above them – towards the heavens. ‘I do. But I am not sure he can hear me anymore. Not from here.’

‘He can hear you anywhere, my friend.’