Allies sat tight, well dug in, picking off the Panzer tanks like fish in a barrel. It was no good. His forward units were fifteen miles from Alexandria. but they were stuck Fifteen miles, he thought. Another fifteen miles. and Egypt would have been mine. He looked at the officerT around him. As always, their expressions reflected his own: he saw in their faces what they saw in his. It was defeaL
He knew it was a nightmare, but he could not wake up. The cell was six feet long by four feet wide, and half of it was taker up by a bed. Beneath the bed was a chamberpot. The waffis were of smooth gray stone. A small light bulb hung from the ceiling by a cord. In one end of the cell was a door. In the other end was a small square window, set just above eye level: through it he could see the bright blue sky. In his dream he thought: I’ll wake up soon, then it will be all right. I’ll wake. up, and there will be a beautiful woman lying beside me on a silk sheet, and I will touch her breasts-and as he. thought this he was filled with strong lust-and she will wake up and kiss me, and we will drink champagne … But he could not quite dream that, and the dream of the prison cell camc back. Somewhere nearby a bass drum waP beating- steadily. Soldierp were marching to the rhythm outside. The beat was terrifving, terrifying, boomboom, boom-boom, tramp-tramp the drum and the soldiers and the close gray walls of the cell and that distant, tanta- lizing square of blut sky and he was so frightened, so horrified, that he forced his eyes open and he woke up. He looked around him, not understanding. He was awake, wide awake, no question about it, the dream was over; yet he was still in a prison cell. It was six feet long by four feet wide, and half of it was taker) up by abed. He raised himself from the bed and looked underneath it. There was a chamberpot. He stood upright. Ilen, quietly and calmly, he began to bang his head against the wall. THE KEY TO REBECCA 339
Jerusalem, 24 September 42 My dear Elene,
Today I went to the Western Wall, which is also called the Wailing Wall. I stood before it with many other Jews, and I prayed. r wrote a kvitlach and put it into a crack in the wall. May God grant my petition. Ibis is the most beautiful place in the world, Jerusalem. Of course I do not live well. I sleep on a mattress on the floor in a little room with five other men. Sometimes I get a little work, sweeping up in a workshop where one of my roommates, a young man, carries wood for the carpenters. I am very poor, like always, but now I am poor in Jerusalem, which is better than rich in Egypt. I crossed the desert in a British Army truck. They asked me what I would have done if they had not picked me up, and when I said I would have walked, I believe they thought me mad. But this is the sanest thing I ever did. I must tell you that I am dying. My illness is quite incurable, even if I could afford doctors, and I have only weeks left, perhaps a couple of monihs. Don’t be sad. I have never been happier in my life. I should tell you what I wrote in my kvitlach. I asked God to grant happiness to my daughter Elene. I believe he will. Farewell,
Your Father.
The smoked ham was sliced as thin as paper and rolled into dainty cylinders. The bread rolls were home-baked, fresh that morning. There was a glass jar of potato salad made with real mayonnaise and crisp chopped onion. There were a bottle of wine, another bottle of soda and a bag of oranges. And a packet of cigarettes, his brand. Elene began to pack the food into the picnic basket. She had just closed the lid when she heard the knock at the door. She took off her apron before going to open it. Vandam stepped inside, closed the door behind him and kissed her. He put his arms around her and held her painfully tightly. He always did this, and it always hurt, but she never 340 Ken Follett