The Helsinki Pact by Alex Cugia Read Free Book Online

see her again in thinking about her
and rehearsing clever things to say when they met, things he knew
he would nevertheless probably never say. He felt almost as edgy
and apprehensive as when he’d crossed the previous week although
then the penalties for failing would have been far more severe. He
pictured her lying next to him, smiling up at him as he leant on
his elbow, pulling him down to kiss him.
    Then suddenly she was there. The
museum had not long closed and staff were streaming out of the side
door and there she was, on her own and among the stragglers. She
looked beautiful and stylish, wearing a well fitting black leather
jacket which set off her figure and complemented her blonde hair,
her appearance bringing him to an ache of longing. He got up and
moved towards her, waving a little self-consciously when he got
closer.
    “Oh, you. Thomas isn’t it?,
Thomas something or other. Can’t you afford phones in the West
now?”
    “Wundart.” He was pleased she’d
recognised and remembered him.
    “I tried calling ... ” he said,
embarrassed. “Well, actually, no, I didn’t. I was afraid you might
tell me not to show up, that you were busy or something. Shall we
get some hot chocolate or coffee somewhere? It’s freezing, total
brass monkey weather.”
    They walked down a nearby side
street and entered a small, nondescript shop with a sawdust strewn
floor. The walls were plain and bare. A large black dog was dozing
in a corner, close to the single tiny radiator. Wafts of aromatic
steam, rich and chocolaty, came from behind a door to the left. The
old woman behind the counter greeted Bettina with evident pleasure
and broke into a flood of comment in a broad Sachsen accent which
Thomas had difficulty in following. He thought he picked up a query
about Bettina’s ‘new young man, handsome, eh?' and then something
like 'But what about where it matters?’ with the lascivious cackle
which followed drowning Bettina’s reply. They sat at one of the two
tables in the back room.
    “I used to spend a lot of time
here” Bettina said “reading, but also just talking, discussing
things with other students, arguing. Setting the world to rights.”
She smiled and looked round the room.
    “So how was your visit to the
museum?” she asked. “What did you think of the new exhibit? I mean
the space given over to the history of our glorious leader. Right
there in the entrance hall. How remarkable that he joined the
Spartacus League when he was ten, the full Party at 17 and that he
was one of the first members of the SED when it was formed? What
commitment! What deep understanding of the proletarian
struggle!”
    There was a long silence while
Thomas thought frantically of what comment he might make. Was she
serious? Should he praise the exhibition, laugh at it, say he’d
missed it? But how he could he miss something apparently so
obvious? He caught her eye and that decided him.
    “An exhibition devoted to
Honecker’s history could put the story of the DDR into proper
perspective.” he said, leaning back in his chair,
waiting.
    She laughed. “So you didn’t visit
the museum! Well, in your position I don’t suppose I would have
done either.” She laughed again and then, suddenly, was serious.
“But if you’d pretended, said what a fine exhibition it was
perhaps, we’d have had our chocolate but we would never have met
again.” She looked down at the table and then looked levelly at
him. “I’m glad that’s not the case.”
    “Are you from Berlin?”
    “Dresden. Have you been
there?”
    “Never. You’d need a special
permit and I’ve never arranged one. I hear it’s very
beautiful.”
    “It was. Still is in parts. It
was a wonderful, beautiful, old city, with narrow streets and some
marvellous Baroque and Renaissance architecture. But you need to
look at paintings and old photographs to get a proper understanding
of what it was like, how wonderful it was.”
    Her tone was bitter and Thomas
nodded silently.