Letters from Berlin

by Tania Blanchard

  I breathed deeply, the scent of pine grounding and invigorating me at the same time. ‘I don’t know that we can make it appear real. We don’t love each other.’

  He nodded knowingly, as though anticipating my opposition. ‘Well, how many matches are made from love? For a lot of people in the Reich it’s a matter of practical agreement and convenience, usually arranged by the families. It won’t seem so strange.’

  ‘But both Tante Elya and my mother married for love. She won’t accept it.’

  ‘I’ve thought about that, too. After the incident with Mueller, Georg asked me if I could look in on you in Berlin, to make sure you’re happy and safe…’ He acknowledged my raised eyebrows with a sigh. ‘He worries about you, Susie. If we give it enough time, he won’t object because he knows I’ll look after you and treat you with respect. And I won’t ask anything of you other than for you to look elegant and beautiful on my arm and grace those around you with your wit, intelligence and charm.’

  ‘Leo will know.’ And I knew how Leo felt about Julius.

  ‘Leo has no reason to argue when his own situation puts you in harm’s way, in the path of men like Mueller. I’m family. Who’s better placed to protect you?’

  The weight of the potential betrayal sat heavily on my heart, but there was something else too, a powerful, growing sense of relief – of averting the crushing powerlessness – that was almost overwhelming. I would be betraying Leo and his parents, but I would be protecting them too. It would hurt Leo deeply, but it would be worth it if he was safe until a time when we could be together. If we were to have a future, he’d have to survive and, this way, I could help him.

  Looking out at the trees, I tried to think it through. The forest was a familiar and comforting sight and I imagined walking through its cool depths, weaving between the dark trunks, scattered shafts of sunlight finding a way through the green canopy and illuminating small patches of bright colour like secret treasures. A sense of calm descended over me. Onkel Julius was offering me a lifeline. I had to trust him.

  ‘How do we do this?’ I asked, looking him directly in the eye.

  He smiled. ‘First of all, call me Julius. Onkel makes me feel old.’

  * * *

  A week later, I walked through the majestic entrance of the Hotel Kaiserhof, arguably the most luxurious hotel in Berlin. It had been a favourite of well-heeled guests for the past seventy or so years and it was here that Julius Siebenborn kept a suite on the third floor. The lobby was buzzing with activity, guests coming and going, the tinkling of laughter emanating from tables where fashionably dressed men and women sat, sipping coffee and nibbling on cakes and delicacies.

  I frowned as my eye caught the swastika armbands clumped together at tables and dotted across the foyer. Hotel Kaiserhof had always been one of the premier meeting places in the city, but situated opposite the Reich Chancellery and within walking distance of many of the ministry buildings, including the Ministry of Transport, the elegant space was now taken over by high-ranking Nazi officials, ministry personnel and the green–grey of the Wehrmacht. The carmine stripes displayed on trouser legs denoted high-ranking officers, particularly of the General Staff. There were a few who still wore finely cut suits with their Nazi membership pin on their jacket lapel, and some were even in traditional evening wear.

  Some were surely family friends of Onkel Georg, like Julius, others were likely business associates of his, and although there were still some good men among their ranks, I knew that most were corrupt or at least complicit in enforcing laws that had forced the Jewish people from Germany. And now I would have to pretend I was their friend.

  ‘Ministerialrat Siebenborn is expecting me,’ I said to the waiter. He nodded and escorted me to a free table. I felt the eyes of men nearby follow me across the lobby, appraising who I was, who I was meeting and what I was doing there. Women, too. It took all of my self-control not to smooth my dress, a simple black velvet bodice with an ivory satin skirt, demure yet elegant.

  Julius was taking me to see the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra – our first outing together. His secretary Hedy had contacted me about the arrangements for the evening and made sure I had everything I needed for the occasion. I murmured my thanks to the waiter as I sat. I didn’t know how to feel: excited to be out on my own as a woman, thrilled to play the game of pretence as Julius’s girlfriend, or guilty for hiding what I was doing from my family. More than anything I didn’t want to embarrass myself or Julius. My greatest fear was that he’d tell me that this was a terrible mistake and that he couldn’t help Tante Elya and Leo after all.

  Julius didn’t make me wait. He was by my side before I could take in my surroundings any further, handsome and impeccable in his tuxedo, hair perfectly in place and freshly shaven.

  ‘Susanna,’ he said formally, lifting my hand to his lips.

  ‘Hello, Julius,’ I said, smiling. ‘Thank you for not making me wait. I’m not sure how much longer I’d survive all these curious glances.’

  ‘Well, my dear, you’d better get used to them. You’re a glittering star in the inky night sky.’

  ‘That’s very poetic,’ I said, feeling heat rise to my face.

  ‘You’re the most beautiful girl in the room,’ he whispered, sitting across from me.

  ‘You’re not wasting any time playing your role,’ I whispered back.

  ‘Who said I’m acting?’ he replied, winking as he smiled widely.

  I frowned and shook my head. Clearly Julius was enjoying himself, but all I felt was embarrassment.

  ‘Let’s order a drink before we go,’ he said, easing the tension.

  The concert was wonderful, a breathtaking performance of Beethoven’s Fourth and Fifth symphonies, and, partly thanks to the champagne, I began to feel a little less nervous. As I was introduced to many of Berlin’s social elite, I forced myself to relax on Julius’s arm.

  ‘Did you enjoy the concert?’ asked a lady with a tiara in her grey hair. Frau Stahl, I remembered. We were standing in small groups as people milled about the foyer with drinks in hand.

  ‘Yes, very much,’ I said, smiling. ‘Beethoven is one of my favourite composers.’

  ‘You’re Georg Hecker’s goddaughter, aren’t you?’

  I nodded, taking a large sip of champagne, not sure where this conversation was going.

  ‘We used to see him in Berlin from time to time.’ It seemed that everyone knew Onkel Georg, and it struck me that he had been part of this social circle from childhood, before Tante Elya’s Jewish background became a problem. ‘How is he, and his family?’

  ‘They’re well, thank you,’ I said.

  It was clear she wasn’t going to ask after Tante Elya and I felt outraged on her behalf.

  ‘Are you here with Julius?’ She looked at me speculatively.

  ‘He’s looking out for me as a favour to Onkel Georg. He thought that I could use a little more culture in my life,’ I said, smiling despite my outrage. Julius had told me this would be the perfect way to start the gossip that we were close.

  ‘Did I hear Julius say that you’re at university?’

  I nodded. ‘I’m studying history, literature and philosophy.’

  ‘Well, that’s wonderful. Girls these days are doing so much more,’ she said, sipping her champagne.

  ‘But what’s the purpose?’ asked a pinched faced woman. ‘You don’t need an education to be married well, just good breeding.’

  ‘I want to work afterwards,’ I said a little taken aback.

  ‘That’ll change when the war ends, and the men return to their jobs.’

  ‘Susanna speaks four languages,’ said Julius, smoothly interrupting the conversation. ‘She learnt English and French at school and her godmother is Russian.’

  ‘Very accomplished,’ said Frau Stahl, nodding in approval.

  Julius introduced me to Herr Stahl and some of the other older men and we engaged in small talk and discussed literature, history and the ancient philosophers I was
studying at university – Plato, Aristotle and Socrates. Some even found what I had to say interesting. It felt like the old days, an evening with Onkel Georg and Tante Elya’s friends at one of the many parties I had attended when I was younger. It was something I could manage, despite the undercurrent of anger that hummed through my body that these people could continue to live normally while so many others suffered.

  Julius drove me home after and walked me to the dormitory door.

  ‘I think that went very well,’ he said. ‘I hope the dry old folk didn’t bore you too much?’

  I smiled. ‘Of course not. They’re really no different to Onkel Georg’s associates and their old friends from Berlin.’

  ‘You’re very poised for someone so young.’

  I shrugged. ‘I’ve had to be. There’s no point losing my composure in company like that. They’d never understand anyway.’

  He nodded in agreement.

  ‘I really enjoyed the concert. Thank you.’ Despite my nervousness at the beginning of the evening, I felt more confident now that our subterfuge might really work.

  ‘Well, good night, Susie.’ He kissed my gloved hand. ‘I’d better let you get to bed. I’m sure you have lectures in the morning.’ He waited patiently for me to close the door behind me.

  Just like an uncle, I thought, safely delivering me home. I kicked off my heels and, with aching feet, tiptoed to my room, feeling strangely flat.

  6

  ‘You’re heading out again?’ asked Marika, a week later.

  Although she was my best friend, I couldn’t tell her what I was doing. I could barely justify it to myself.

  ‘It’s just dinner with a family friend,’ I said lightly, as I began coiling my hair into a chignon. ‘I haven’t seen him for a few years.’ Julius had decided that a quiet meal was a good chance for us to relax and learn more about each other’s daily life.

  ‘It’s a fancy dinner if you’re dressing like that.’ She plonked herself on my bed, waiting for my answer. ‘How would Leo feel about it?’ A stab of guilt pierced my belly.

  In the last week, there’d been moments when I’d wanted to confide in Leo, but I knew he would never understand. This was my way of fighting back, of doing something that neither he nor Onkel Georg could do for our family.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ I said dully. ‘We can’t be together and neither of us has the right to say what the other does.’

  ‘You may have to wait until this war is over to have a life with him, but never give up.’

  ‘The only chance we’ll have is if we lose the war and the Nazis fall from power,’ I said bitterly. The speeches given by Ministers Speer and Goebbels at the Sportspalast, assuring German victory now that our armament production had increased and the difficulties of Stalingrad had been overcome, had been received enthusiastically by a massive crowd. It was also widely reported in the newspapers that the stirring words of Goebbels only galvanised the survivors of the recent devastating bombings of the Rhineland to continue the battle against the Allied enemy. Support for the Nazis was as strong as ever.

  ‘Don’t say things like that, even here in private,’ she hissed, glancing at the closed door warily.

  ‘I’m sorry. Sometimes it all seems too difficult.’

  Marika hugged me tight. ‘The truth is that I’m jealous that you’ve found “the one” while I still have no idea what I really want.’ She drew back and patted my hair into place. ‘Now, finish getting dressed and go and have some fun. Maybe this family friend is a good distraction for you at the moment.’

  ‘Maybe he is,’ I echoed, but my heart felt like it was breaking.

  The club was understated, but busy, almost every table full, and I knew immediately that this was a popular haunt of people in the know. Julius took my arm as we threaded our way through the room to our table. He was smiling and nodding to other patrons – the Nazi elite, but also ordinary Berliners who could still afford to eat out or had come for a drink and to listen to the music. I’d never been anywhere like this in my life.

  ‘This place feels so alive,’ I said, leaning across the table to make myself heard as the band began to play across the dancefloor. ‘I love it.’

  Julius grinned. ‘Wait until the band really warms up and the singing starts. Shall we start with some champagne?’

  The champagne went to my head while we listened to the music and waited for our meals to arrive. Julius had ordered for both of us.

  ‘It’s veal with a French sauce,’ he told me.

  ‘How’s that possible?’ I was salivating already. I hadn’t had veal or a creamy French sauce in so long, even though we sold such produce from the estate.

  ‘It’s from the Ukraine,’ he told me in an undertone. ‘We should enjoy it while it’s available.’ I nodded, but couldn’t help feeling uneasy, wondering what people in the Ukraine were eating. Most of Eastern Europe – Poland, the Baltic states, even previously held Soviet provinces like Ukraine as well as parts of the western Soviet Union – were now under German occupation. This eastern expansionism was fuelled by the Nazi policy of Lebensraum, ‘living space’, displacing locals and settling Germans in the vast agricultural holdings and in control of resources and industry in the east. This was also where the majority of the ghettos and concentration camps existed, far from the gaze and conscious awareness of German citizens. Out of sight and out of mind.

  And yet, despite my uneasiness, more than once I found myself tapping my foot to the music while telling Julius about my week at university, and about Marika and the antics she’d instigate to lighten up our periods of study in the dormitory. The lamp on our table cast a soft light across Julius’s features, interested and enquiring one minute and laughing at my stories the next. His attention was focused solely on me. It left me feeling giddy and light-headed.

  We were halfway through our meal before I had a chance to ask him more about himself. I was eating slowly, savouring every delicious morsel – there were even fresh carrots and beans, a far cry from the usual meagre cabbage and potato or thin stew that was served around the city. I wondered if the owner could be Leo’s restaurateur.

  ‘What about you? How’s your week been?’

  ‘Busy. I’ve been involved with coordinating train services across the Reich. Between getting soldiers to the front and military equipment to where it needs to go, ensuring coal trains leave the collieries regularly and keeping the normal passenger trains on time and German passengers happy, it’s been a bit of a nightmare.’

  ‘It sounds like it.’ It also sounded very tedious to me. ‘Is that what you were doing in Krakau?’

  ‘No, I was overseeing the planning and building of new railways lines and stations in the east to make sure there’s a smooth and efficient flow back and forward to Germany.’ He put his fork and knife down. ‘Without an efficient transport system, particularly in times of war, the economy would be seriously affected.’ I could see his face light up and I began to understand what made him tick. ‘Every part of life revolves around our economy, and the rail system is an integral part of Germany continuing to function as efficiently as possible.’

  I pointed my fork at him in a most unladylike manner. ‘That’s why you love being in government, isn’t it? It’s not just a career path for you. It’s something you’re passionate about.’

  ‘All I want is for Germany to be standing strong at the end of this war,’ he said. ‘I’m just an engineer who understands economics.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Besides, where would we be without order? War creates chaos, but with good infrastructure, we can at least maintain a level of stability within Germany…’ He picked up his wineglass and drank before continuing. ‘With chaos, we all lose our jobs.’ He smiled broadly. ‘And I for one don’t want to lose my job.’

  ‘I don’t want you to lose your job either.’ I wondered what would happen if Julius no longer had the influence he currently enjoyed.

  He laughed. ‘That’s two of us at least!’

 
‘All you want is the best for Germany. I think that’s admirable.’ I reached across the table, took his hand and squeezed it gently, noticing the surprise cross his face briefly.

  Julius nodded. ‘But I promised you a good night, not boring talk about government and economics. Come, let’s dance.’ He led me to the dancefloor just as a tall willowy singer resplendent in a long sequined gown took the microphone and began to sing in sweet, sultry tones.

  Julius was a good dancer, leading me effortlessly around the floor, his hand on my back holding me close. I was aware of every plane and curve of his body against me, the pressure of his hand in mine and his arm around my waist. Then the music became lively and, with the impish grin I remembered as a child, he stepped up the pace, dipping and spinning me around, making me laugh.

  ‘I have to work tomorrow,’ said Julius finally, ‘and you probably have some fascinating dissertation on philosophy in the morning.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose we’d better go,’ I said reluctantly. I could have danced all night.

  * * *

  A couple of weeks later I found an unexpected moment of stillness after helping Onkel Georg with the milking. I’d followed the cows back to their night paddock while he washed down the dairy floor. Closing the gate behind the last stragglers, I looked up into the fading sky and for a moment enjoyed the peacefulness that had descended with the twilight. Although I enjoyed returning to the familiar routines of daily life on the farm, I hadn’t been able to stop worrying about keeping my secret from everyone. In this moment of grace, everything fell away but the slowing of the day.

  ‘I hear Julius is keeping an eye on you in Berlin.’

  I turned to find Onkel Georg walking towards me, an empty bucket in his hand, and I gathered myself to face the questions I’d known would come sooner or later.