Winter of the World

‘There is a new treatment available for cases of this type. However, it will necessitate moving Kurt to another hospital.’ Willrich closed the file. He looked at Ada and, for the first time, he smiled. ‘I’m sure you would like Kurt to undergo a therapy that might improve his condition.’

Carla did not like his smile: it seemed creepy. She said: ‘Could you tell us more about the treatment, Professor?’

‘I’m afraid it would be beyond your understanding,’ he said. ‘Even though you are a trainee nurse.’

Carla was not going to let him get away with that. ‘I’m sure Frau Hempel would like to know whether it would involve surgery, or drugs, or electricity, for example.’

‘Drugs,’ he said with evident reluctance.

Ada said: ‘Where would he have to go?’

‘The hospital is in Akelberg, in Bavaria.’

Ada’s geography was weak, and Carla knew she had no sense of how far that was. ‘It’s two hundred miles,’ she said.

‘Oh, no!’ said Ada. ‘How would I visit him?’

‘By train,’ said Willrich impatiently.

Carla said: ‘It would take four or five hours. She would probably have to stay overnight. And what about the cost of the fare?’

‘I cannot concern myself with such things!’ said Willrich angrily. ‘I am a doctor, not a travel agent!’

Ada was close to tears. ‘If it means Kurt will get better, and learn to say a few words, and not to soil himself . . . one day we might perhaps bring him home.’

‘Exactly,’ said Willrich. ‘I felt sure you would not wish to deny him the chance of getting better just for your own selfish reasons.’

‘Is that what you’re telling us?’ said Carla. ‘That Kurt might be able to live a normal life?’

‘Medicine offers no guarantees,’ he said. ‘Even a trainee nurse should know that.’

Carla had learned, from her parents, to be impatient with prevarication. ‘I don’t ask you for a guarantee,’ she said crisply. ‘I ask you for a prognosis. You must have one, otherwise you would not be proposing the treatment.’

He reddened. ‘The treatment is new. We hope it will improve Kurt’s condition. That is what I am telling you.’

‘Is it experimental?’

‘All medicine is experimental. All therapies work on some patients but not on others. You must listen to what I tell you: medicine offers no guarantees.’

Carla wanted to oppose him just because he was so arrogant, but she realized that was not the basis on which to make a judgement. Besides, she was not sure that Ada really had a choice. Doctors could go against the wishes of parents if the child’s health was at risk: in effect, they could do what they liked. Willrich was not asking Ada’s permission – he had no real need of it. He was speaking to her only in order to avoid a fuss.

Carla said: ‘Can you tell Frau Hempel how long it might be before Kurt returns from Akelberg to Berlin?’

‘Quite soon,’ said Willrich.

It was no answer at all, but Carla felt that if she pressed him he would become angry again.

Ada was looking helpless. Carla sympathized: she herself found it difficult to know what to say. They had not been given enough information. Doctors were often like this, Carla had noticed: they seemed to want to hug their knowledge to themselves. They preferred to fob patients off with platitudes, and became defensive when questioned.

Ada had tears in her eyes. ‘Well, if there’s a chance he could get better . . .’

‘That’s the attitude,’ Willrich said.

But Ada had not finished. ‘What do you think, Carla?’

Willrich looked outraged at this appeal to the opinion of a mere nurse.

Carla said: ‘I agree with you, Ada. This opportunity must be seized, for Kurt’s sake, even though it will be hard for you.’

‘Very sensible,’ said Willrich, and he got to his feet. ‘Thank you for coming to see me.’ He went to the door and opened it. Carla felt he could not get rid of them quickly enough.

They left the home and walked back to the station. As their nearly empty train pulled away, Carla picked up a leaflet that had been left on the seat. It was headed How to Oppose the Nazis, and it listed ten things people could do to hasten the end of the regime, starting with slowing down their rate of work.

Carla had seen such flyers before, though not often. They were placed by some underground resistance movement.

Ada snatched it from her, crumpled it, and threw it out of the window. ‘You can be arrested for reading such things!’ she said. She had been Carla’s nanny, and sometimes she behaved as though Carla had not grown up. Carla did not mind her occasional bossiness, for she knew it came from love.

However, in this case Ada was not overreacting. People could be imprisoned not just for reading such things but even for failing to report that they had found one. Ada could be in trouble merely for throwing it out of the window. Fortunately, there was no one else in the carriage to see what she had done.

Ada was still troubled by what she had been told at the home. ‘Do you think we did the right thing?’ she said to Carla.

‘I don’t really know,’ Carla said candidly. ‘I think so.’