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Text and original characters copyright 2022 by Teresa Strati
Chapter Three - The Dress
Locked into a speed befitting the anticipated rail transport, the staff car screeched across the newly constructed road, to the solid gates of the imposing camp.
Sentry towers dotted the perimeter, perilously close to the barbed wire. Outcrops of huge wooden structures loomed in a haphazard form interspersed with SS personnel, some yelling at gaunt, feeble prisoners marching to what could only be the nearby industrial plant.
General Gunter Bauer grimaced as he recalled meeting this camp's Kommandant at the Fuhrer's birthday celebration the week before. His pompous boats of elevated production quotas and endless replenishments of prison labour, left an inedible impression. The unabashed proclamation that Himmler himself had toured his camp on many occasions, heightened the General's curiosity and ruffled a few of the SS elite.
However, nothing came close to the exceptional decree by the Kommandant's wife to the women crowded around her as if she held court. A tailoring salon, she endlessly repeated, where the latest haute couture could be hand made in days. And an unabashed confession that her order book was filled to capacity for, at the very least, the next three months.
The Stabsgebäude – staff building loomed before them, however the staff car veered to the right, stopping in front of an exceptionally large villa with ludicrous outcrops of flowers and greenery encircling it.
Inside the staff car, the General took the hand of the young woman beside him and kissed it. She happily leaned closer to him and lay her head on his shoulder.
Her scent was intoxicating. She was his distraction and, today, his muse. "I have a surprise for you," he whispered, tilting her head so his lips could meet hers.
Marya Parmanova purred, "my poopsie, only one?"
…000…
Frau Ursula was clearly flustered. Beckoning her guests inside, she quickly motioned for her servants to locate her husband, Otto.
Marya stood mesmerised by the interior of the villa. It looked – crowded. The furniture bordered between antique and antiquated. She could imagine certain pieces adorning a room, on their own, in a hauntingly beautiful way.
A side table in fine polished wood adorned a partition; just as they entered a large sitting area. Its ornate lattice work overshadowed by the enormous black leather bound book sitting on top of it, conveniently opened with a pen between its pages.
The General casually flicked through its pages, landing on a slightly dog-eared one. "You keep a guest book," Gunter remarked acerbically. Himmler's name all but filled the page.
Ursula missed the caustic remark. "We are fortunate to have so many dignitaries visit the camp." She turned to Marya, beaming, "Such a pleasure reading their compliments."
"General Bauer," Otto cried out as he joined them. "I received no word of your impending arrival."
"A surprise for my Marya." Bauer instinctively placed a protective hand behind Marya's back, slightly pressuring her forward. "Aside from the regulatory tour of your camp, I was hoping to surprise Marya here with a dress from your wife's famous tailoring salon."
Ursula visible straightened; if it was possible with her ample girth. "Of course, of course."
Marya smiled, careful not to show her disappointment at not being invited on the camp tour.
…000…
The short walk to the building housing the tailoring salon was not without incident. Indiscriminate gunfire broke the silence, shouts loud enough for Marya to stop in her tracks.
Ursula took her elbow and all but propelled her through the doors and up the stairs to the second floor, where a large dimly lit workroom greeted them.
Women huddled around long rectangle work tables; some hand-stitching fabrics; others running sections through the few sewing machines strategically placed on tables close to the open windows, taking advantage of sunlight. Gaunt petite women in identical white headscarves amicably whispered to one another, in a tone slightly above the whir of sewing machines.
On her knees, a young girl gathered the fallen pins and needles, careful not to kneel on any.
"Berta, General Müller 's wife, had her wedding dress made at my salon," Ursula continued without wasting a breath. "Of course, once that order was completed, well, our order book just filled."
Within seconds of Ursula's voice, all the whispering stopped. Not one woman raised her head from the work they were doing – and that unnerved Marya. That, and the fact that each woman looked – skeletal. She didn't realise she had just taken a sharp indrawn breath.
One of the women, older, diminutive, approached them.
"You can tell her what you wish in a dress while she takes your measurements." Ursula firmly stated. Marya couldn't help noticing that Ursula neither looked at the woman nor introduced her by name.
The woman bowed and gestured to a small room at the far end.
Ursula did not join them – much to Marya's relief.
From beneath one of the tables, the young girl scurried to join them, holding the handful of pins and needles close to her chest.
…000…
With its wide open window and floor to ceiling mirror, Marya found the fitting room surprisingly spacious and intimate, if that was possible.
"Babushka," Marya whispered, watching the older woman remove the tape measure from around her neck. "Forgive me. I don't often disrobe in front of women." She teased. A giggle escaped the young girl, still holding the pins and needles to her chest. "Not until we're on a first name basis."
"Hannah," the woman said, taking a piece of pale blue fabric and a marking pen from her apron pocket and handing it to the young girl. Marya was surprised that she did not use paper to jot down the measurements, then recalled – looking around – there was no paper around at all, except the order book with its thick parchment pages.
"My name is Ruth," the young girl quickly shared.
"My name is Marya."
A bitter wind picked up with a gust blowing dust into the room. Ruth moved to close the window but Marya stopped her. "No, it's fine." Marya looked out. She could see more of the camp; more of the thin prisoners rounded into groups near their barracks. Some of the dust settled on her arm. Marya looked at it – surprised. Dust usually looked – finer, lighter. She wiped it, causing it to smudge.
The women watched Marya's brow ruffle in confusion, then quickly bowed their heads and continued their task.
Ruth was circling Marya, following Hannah and jotting down measurements when suddenly she stumbled. Marya quickly grabbed her wrist and gasped.
Ruth stiffened. Marya looked down at her hand encircling a wrist that was so thin she could feel the bone. Immediately, Ruth pulled herself free, almost falling back, not before Marya glimpsed black thick smudges on the inside of her wrist. Terrified, Ruth stepped back until she hit the wall.
Marya grabbed Hannah's wrist and turned it over. Same smudges. No, not smudges – numbers. She was just about to say something when Ursula barged in. Ruth whimpered. Hannah quickly raced to her side.
Marya tore at her corset and held it before her, causing her breasts to momentarily flutter as they fell free of the restraint.
Ursula stared at the sight before her – gobsmacked.
"Oh, what a relief," Marya exclaimed with a flourish that had her simultaneously shrugging and rotating her shoulders, giving the impression she was releasing tension. "They have become so – " She looked squarely at Ursula, "big."
"It happens to me every time I have a baby," Ursula added, a little perturbed because her breasts certainly didn't look like the ones before her.
"Oh, how cumbersome," Marya continued. "We were just discussing the design of my dress. I'm hoping it will hold these up," Marya made to grab her breasts but before she could do so, Ursula coughed and quickly excused herself.
Ruth came from behind Hannah to stand before Marya. She took the corset from Marya's hands and tried to put it on her.
"Thank you." Marya said, but her voice almost broke. Something was going on and she couldn't work out exactly what.
She picked up the blue material and marking pen that Ruth had dropped when she stumbled.
She didn't need another dress.
She didn't want another dress.
She wanted to know what was going on so the bile in her throat didn't come up.
And then she saw something interesting. She held the blue fabric up to the light coming through the window. The measurements written on the back did not come through to the front.
She looked at Hannah – really looked at her.
And – as an idea was taking form – she smiled. The type of smile that gave her eyes a wonderfully mischievous look.
"I want my dress to have pleats that are sewn shut – as many as you can create without making my hips look too big." She skimmed her hands down her hips. The smile broadened. "And inside the pleats you will write everything that is going on here. Everything."
Hannah blanched. "No-one will believe us."
Marya laughed; the heavy throaty laugh that lingered in the air like a musical note. She felt rejuvenated, excited and positively wonderful. "Ah, but only one person needs to know."
…000…
Author's Notes and Inspiration to this continuing saga…
The Dressmakers of Auschwitz – Lucy Adlington
Unsolved Mysteries of World War II – Michael Fitzgerald
Allies in Auschwitz (web) published by Clairview Books
Behind The Lines – Russell Miller
POW – Adrian Gilbert