The Dominafuhrer - MISS SPITEFUL'S GOLD

Episode 33 - The Night Porter

September 1952

Under a now pale grey sky, we sped across Berlin to our hotel, passing the occasional vehicle or shadowy figures forming queues at bus or tram stops. Lights were already on in some buildings but many here were still empty shells or shapeless fields of rubble. We were crossing the route that the allied air forces had used as a bomb path and up which the Red Army had blasted their way north into the city centre. I should know, my home had been at the bottom of the route. We travelled in silence for Miss Spiteful had banned all questions until we were safely indoors and we were too physically and emotionally exhausted for idle chatter.

Sugar parked the truck on the Kurfurstendam, and I was carefully assisted out and in through the front door of the hotel. The night porter was seated behind his desk, reading a newspaper and sipping his coffee as he kept an eye on the cleaners. He looked up as Sugar entered first and then his jaw dropped as he saw four women in grimy gymslips, tattered stockings and muddied shoes, one with a livid and bloodied bruise on her face, follow. When a bandaged Kelly helped me through the door, also with battered features, moving painfully and draped in a grey blanket, he almost fell over backwards. By then, Miss Spiteful was towering over him and slamming the flat of her hand on the counter.

“Our room keys! Two pots of coffee! A Bottle of brandy. Nein! Make that two bottles! Hot rolls; butter and a big plate of sausages and bacon. To my room in twenty minutes! Schnell! Oh! And a couple of ice packs as well. Do not forget those.”

The Porter started to protest that the kitchen was not yet open and Miss Spiteful picked up the card offering a 24 hour Room Service and threw it at him. He ducked and quickly disappeared in search of our requirements as we headed for the lifts, watched by the silent and open mouthed cleaning staff. 

In Miss Spiteful’s room, we collapsed onto the chairs, sofa and bed. Kelly fetched my dressing gown to replace the blanket and her eyes widened in horror when she saw the wounds, bruises and dried blood on my naked body. I knew they were there but, as with my face, had no wish to view my injuries just yet.

Nobody spoke as we waited for our breakfast and, after that had been delivered on a trolley; we fell on it all hungrily, clearing the plates of rolls and fillings before relaxing with our coffee and brandies.

“Ladies,” Miss Spiteful raised her glass in a salute. “We have been successful, due to Storm’s bravery, Sugar following my brilliant plan B, despite her congenitally feeble brain power, and Kelly’s High School Swimming Medals. I give you a toast to our heroines of the night.”

“What about me?” Sapphire protested. She lifted the icepack off her cheek and we all winced at the sight of the purple bruising and the thin red scar.

“Honey,” Sugar drawled. “I thought that you had done that to yourself to look more attractive.”   

We all laughed as we downed the toast except Sapphire who muttered “Black Bitch!” but still drained her glass.

For the benefit of Sugar and Kelly, Miss Spiteful recounted our adventures up to the point of our meeting on the bridge. When she was describing my ordeal at the hands of Seraph, I felt Kelly’s hand rest on my arm, as we sat next to each other on Miss Spiteful’s bed, and give it a squeeze. Our eyes met as our unspoken feelings for each other ended our brief estrangement.

“But what happened to you,” I asked her. “I thought you were dead and why are you wearing my frock, you presumptuous slave?”

Kelly helped herself to another of my cigarettes and tucked her long legs up beneath her body.

“Well, I was sitting in the car with the lights off when I saw the Stasi arrive and set up their ambush. I was sure that they hadn’t seen me and, even if I had tried to warn you, we would all have been captured or shot. I decided that it was more important that I got back to West Berlin and tell Sugar. I took off and headed for the nearest crossing point but they had put a barricade across the bridge. I tried to smash through with the car but they opened up with machine guns and I took a bullet in the shoulder. I lost control and it went over the parapet into the river, banging my head on the steering wheel. I woke up as the car sank, grabbed my handbag, opened the door and swam for it. As Mistress said, I’m a good swimmer and, by the time that the Stasi got their searchlights on the water, I was down river and in against the embankment. I kept going until I knew that I was opposite the American sector, swam over and managed to crawl out.”

I marvelled at the matter of fact way that she told her story. The river Spree is deep and treacherous and, in later years, took the lives of many trying to escape from East Berlin by trying to swim or cross it on frail craft.

“Anyway,” Kelly went on. “I found a Cab but the driver took one look at me and wanted his money up front. We had to dry the Deutschmarks from my handbag on his exhaust manifold to convince him that I had enough money for my fare and for cleaning the upholstery afterwards. He took me to the workshop where I found Sugar still unloading the boxes. We repacked the gold, came here and Sugar phoned the CIA number that Mistress had given her. I recognised the ferret face from the checkpoint among the Stasi at the Hospital and described him to the CIA and they knew exactly who he was, where they had probably taken you, had the number of his direct line and even tapped into the East Berlin telephone system to put Sugar’s call through. Mr Thorn made the arrangements with the American Military to use the checkpoint at the Oberbaum Bridge for the exchange. He said it happens quite regularly there. He also called a Doctor to treat me when he saw my wounds. My uniform was ruined so I had to take this dress of yours because I was still leaking blood, despite the pad Sugar had put on my shoulder, and I don’t have anything without sleeves. You’re the nearest to my size. All the others are too broad, too short or too skinny.”

I gingerly touched her bandaged shoulder. “Does it hurt?”

She shook her head. “Not now. It took a lump of flesh off but the Doctor has packed the wound and given me painkiller and tetanus injections. They were more painful.”

She leant nearer and squeezed my arm again. “We heard you scream on the phone and then knocked out. I was more worried about you.” A tear glistened at the corner of her eye as she lowered her voice to a whisper. “I wanted to wear something of yours because I wanted to feel closer to you.”

There was a lump in my throat and I was glad when Miss Spiteful broke the awkward silence.

“Well done everybody. It’s just a shame that the gold and the cash has gone back to East Berlin.”

To continue this story, click Kelly's Heroines

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