The Pathfinder by Margaret Mayhew Page B

overwhelmed and, for a moment, speechless. ‘It’s really for me?’
    â€˜Yes, that’s right.’
    â€˜To keep?’
    â€˜Yes, of course. Not very exciting, I’m afraid. It’s a transport plane mainly. Bit of a workhorse. But very useful and extremely reliable.’
    â€˜Thank you, sir. You are very kind. I like it very much. I think perhaps I have seen this aeroplane in the sky over Berlin.’
    â€˜Very probably.’
    Dirk had fetched his suitcase and set it on the table. He unsnapped the clasps and took out the Hanhart Fliegerchronograph . ‘Here you are, sir. Please try it, if you wish.’
    She watched the Royal Air Force pilot unbuckle his own watch, which he put in his pocket, and fasten the Luftwaffe watch round his left wrist. Dirk was watching him too – motionless and intently, like some animal with its prey. ‘You like it, sir?’
    â€˜Yes, it’s fine. Three hundred and fifty Player’s, you said?’
    â€˜Yes, sir. It is a very good bargain for you.’
    The squadron leader handed over the brown paper bag. ‘Seven tins of fifty. I think that’s how you wanted them.’
    Dirk checked quickly – a mere glance inside the bag so as not to offend the squadron leader. ‘Thank you, sir. And if you know other people who would like a good watch, I can help them too. It is all extra food for us.’
    The squadron leader flushed. He said, ‘I understood civilian rations were better here in the Soviet sector than in ours. We have to bring in all our food from miles away. Surely the Russians can feed you much more easily.’
    â€˜The Russians do not want us fit and strong, sir. They want us weak and feeble, so they keep us on just enough calories a day to survive.’
    â€˜Why not move to a western sector? We try to do rather more than that.’
    â€˜There are not many places to live anywhere in Berlin, haven’t you noticed, sir? And this is our home – isn’t that so, Lili? Home sweet home. It means very much to us. It’s all we have. All that reminds us of our mother and father.’
    The flush spread further and deepened. ‘Yes, of course. I’m awfully sorry.’
    Dirk started to take the tins of English cigarettes out of the paper bag and arrange them in his case. ‘It’s not so bad. We have electricity now and water from the tap. Quite luxurious. Besides, to move to your sector would not help us. We do not believe that you British will stay here for much longer. Or the Americans or the French. The Russians are making it too difficult for you all, so you will give up and go in the end and the whole of Berlin will become Russian. That is what will happen. That is what we believe.’
    The squadron leader said stiffly, ‘I can assure you that we have no intention of leaving.’
    â€˜Intention is one thing to have. But you may be forced to. After all, like us, you must eat. So must the civilians in your sector.’ Dirk snapped the suitcase shut and lifted it off the table. ‘Excuse me, sir, but I must go out now.’ He nodded to Lili and said in German, ‘I won’t be long.’
    She answered, also in German, ‘Where are you going? It’s getting late.’
    â€˜Not far. I’ll be back soon.’
    He was gone before she could argue, slipping out like quicksilver. The squadron leader moved towards the door as well but Rudi wanted to show him his collection of aeroplane pictures, pasted with flour and water into a home-made scrapbook. The Englishman sat patiently beside him at the table and she noticed that he was able to identify all the planes.
    â€˜You must go to bed now, Rudi,’ she said in German when he had reached the end of the book.
    â€˜Oh, no . . . there are many questions that I must ask.’
    â€˜Not now. The squadron leader has to leave. You have kept him long enough. And if you do not rest you will not be