Page 50 of The Watchmaker of Dachau

He swallowed his anger and instead replied, ‘Friedrich. I’ve brought you a hot chocolate.’

The door clicked open and Schmidt’s face appeared, redder than usual, sweat on his brow, his piggy eyes staring at the mug.

‘What are you doing?’ Friedrich could see the flames in the fireplace leaping behind Schmidt, the smell of burning paper in the air.

‘None of your business. Give it to me then.’ Schmidt’s hand was already out, reaching for the drink. Friedrich stifled a grin; he knew Schmidt wouldn’t be able to resist. ‘I should be asking you what you are doing,’ Schmidt said as he finished swallowing his first gulp, a line of chocolate milk on his top lip that he did not rub away.

‘Nothing. Playing with my train set.’

‘Good. Good boy.’ Schmidt patted him on the head. ‘Stay in your room. Your mother is unwell, and I have a lot of work to do, so keep quiet.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Friedrich walked away, hearing the click of the latch as the study door closed and the lock was turned.

He waited in the living room for an hour, to make sure that the tablets he had placed in Schmidt’s drink had taken effect.

He was rarely allowed in the living room; it was his parents’ domain after dinner, or perhaps in the afternoon, to sit and listen to the gramophone or read a book.

The gramophone was of interest to Friedrich. He loved the way the speaker fluted out like a strange bronze shell. He looked inside it, then said, ‘Hello!’, listening as his voice echoed in the cylinder. He wished he could add a record to the turning table, and place the needle on the grooves as he had seen his parents do, waiting as it scratched and buzzed to find the notes. But he knew what would happen if he woke his mother, so he backed away from it, resisting the temptation.

As soon as the grandfather clock in the hallway chimed that an hour had duly passed, Friedrich raced to the study and knocked loudly. There was no answer. He tried again, then again and waited. Then, sure that Schmidt was now fast asleep, he tiptoed to the kitchen, listening at the door for anyone inside. It was quiet.

Quickly he ran through the kitchen to the back door and opened it, running out towards the shed, feeling the cool air on his skin.

‘Hello!’ Friedrich flung open the shed door. Isaac, taken by surprise, dropped something on the floor, then scrabbled around trying to pick it up.

‘Sorry.’ Friedrich moved towards him to help, but Isaac waved him away, and folded some papers that had fallen on the floor and placed them in his pocket.

‘I haven’t seen you for some time,’ Isaac said.

‘I know. They made me stay in the house, even locked the doors!’

‘But they opened them for you today.’

Friedrich shuffled one foot to the other. ‘Sort of.’

The old man raised his eyebrows at him. ‘Are you supposed to be outside?’

‘Well, in a way no one knows, so I am.’ Isaac laughed, taking Friedrich by surprise now. ‘Is it funny?’

‘It is, it is! I’m not sure why. Perhaps because you are being young, perhaps because you are making your own rules.’

‘Can I sit for a while, whilst you work? I promise I will be quiet; I just don’t want to be on my own anymore.’

‘You can,’ Isaac said, and pointed at the upturned bucket.

Friedrich went over to it and sat down. ‘It’s spring, Father said.’

‘Almost.’

He watched Isaac prise the back off a watch and peer inside.

‘I like spring. I like it when the sun goes to bed later, and the birds wake up earlier. If I had my way, I’d build a treehouse ready for summer when Otto comes to visit.’

‘So your friend is coming to visit?’

Friedrich shook his head. ‘Maybe. If Father says it’s all right, but he’s not around much lately and Mother is hysterical all the time. I don’t understand it.’

‘What do you mean?’ Isaac stopped what he was doing and peered at him.