Letter From a Stranger

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  I was silent. I thought of my family and trembled inside. I was more afraid than ever for them.

  Irina said, The invasion has been brutal. Unspeakable atrocities will now be committed. How do you know this? I asked. Canaris told us. He is sickened by this invasion, by what he has found out, and what he knows will inevitably happen. My friends will die. She began to weep.

  I went and knelt at her feet, took her hands in mind. They were as cold as ice. I didn’t know how to comfort her. I said, Maybe it won’t be that bad. It’s not possible to murder an entire nation. When she was silent, I asked softly, Is it?

  Princess Irina Troubetzkoy lifted her head and stared deeply into my eyes. If you are the Führer – yes, it is possible. Do you know what C said to me? I shook my head. Before he left he said, Read Mein Kampf and believe it. Hitler has to be removed, she finished, her voice a whisper. He must be assassinated. If he is not he will destroy Germany.

  These words terrified me. They had been here to plot tonight, those three men. With Irina. I was convinced of that. And I was afraid for her. I did not want anything to happen to my lovely Russian princess.

  BERLIN 3 SEPTEMBER 1939

  On Sunday, two days later, Irina was a much happier person. And so was I. Once again we were glued to the radio in the library. We were listening to the nine o’clock evening news on the BBC, coming from London. At eleven o’clock that morning Britain had declared war on Nazi Germany. Six hours later the French government did the same thing. She had a smile on her face when she said, They will win the war. You’ll see, the British will defeat Hitler. She believed more than ever that the Third Reich would tumble. And so did I. This belief gave us hope. And it kept us going through the bad years yet to come.

  THE MARK BRANDENBURG 6 MARCH 1940

  We went back to the Schloss because Prince Kurt had asked Irina to check on the castle for him. Princess Arabella had returned to Switzerland with Christian and Diana. The prince travelled all the time as the envoy for Krupp. When he was in Germany he lived at his house in Berlin.

  Irina told him we would go for a week or two. Not much longer. She wished to oblige Prince Kurt. She also decided we needed a change. There was an air of gloom and despair in Berlin. The streets were crammed full of Gestapo, SS and Wehrmacht soldiers. Thugs were everywhere. The food shortages were getting worse. Many other necessities were gone. The Herr Baron and the Princess Natalie had returned to the house on the Lützowufer. The baron was planning to turn the wine and storage cellars into an air-raid shelter. He believed the British would soon bomb Berlin.

  Before we left Berlin, Princess Irina phoned Gretchen. She told her the monthly visit had to be cancelled. On impulse she asked Gretchen if she wanted to visit us. For a day or two. She accepted. We were both surprised. Gretchen told Irina she would come on March the eighth. It was a Friday. And that she would bring the baby. Gretchen had given birth at the end of December. The child was a few weeks premature. It was a boy. She called him Andreas.

  Irina and I were alone at the Schloss except for Lotte, the cook. The two maids Trudi and Giselle had both left. They had gone to do war work in Berlin. Klaus, the gardener, and Stefan, the caretaker, were still working here. And their presence made us feel safer. The two men patrolled the estate twice daily. And by now the fence encircled the forests on their outer rim.

  Immediately when we arrived Irina reorganized the Schloss. She closed off most rooms downstairs. Covered the furniture with dustsheets. She kept open the library, the small study and the parlour. All the bedrooms were covered with sheets, and closed. Except for her room and mine. This lightened Lotte’s work. She had been cleaning since the two maids had left. Irina also hired Marta, the wife of the caretaker. She came daily to help out with the cleaning. I pitched in with the cooking. I wanted Lotte to teach me some of her specialities. We were busy for the first few days. Then Gretchen arrived. The baby was adorable. He had fat pink cheeks, blue eyes and tufts of blond hair. He smiled, gurgled and kicked his legs in the air. Lotte fell in love with him. We all did.

  The kitchen was the warmest room in the house. We assembled there for most of the day. We had meals there as well.

  There was no doubt in my mind that Gretchen loved little Andreas. Despite the circumstances of his conception. Yet she was odd in her behaviour. I said this to Irina. The princess decided Gretchen was distracted, worried. Irina and I called the baby our ‘little dumpling’. We picked him up. Walked around with him. Nursed him. Cuddled him. Played with him. Brought fluffy toys for him. A lamb and a teddy bear found in Diana’s room. We gave him his bottle. We took him outside in his pushchair. For three days Andreas was the centre of our lives at the Schloss. On the fourth day Gretchen disappeared. And so did Andreas.

  We were used to small meals in Berlin. Lunch was a treat. Lentil soup, bread and some of Lotte’s precious bottled fruit. Later, Irina went to work in the study. I stayed in the kitchen. Lotte was going to show me how to bake, make apple strudel. Gretchen took Andreas upstairs. For his afternoon nap. We never saw them again.

  Gretchen did not bring the baby down for his bottle later that afternoon. I went up to her room. She was not there. Neither was the baby. But her suitcase was. And the baby’s things. I was puzzled. I looked for her all over the Schloss. I told Irina. Then Lotte and Marta. We began to search for them. Stefan and Klaus covered the estate. The gardens. The forests. The snow had melted. It was still cold outdoors. There was no sign of them. I went back to the Schloss. Checked Gretchen’s room again. Her topcoat was gone. And so was the baby’s coat, wool cap and shawl. But where were they?

  Irina was concerned. She phoned the doctor in the village. He had looked after Gretchen when she was raped. That was my idea. I said, Maybe she took the baby to see the doctor. She had not. Irina telephoned Gretchen’s sisters in Berlin. She was not there. Neither had they heard from her. Reluctantly, Irina finally phoned the village police. There was only one officer now. All the others had joined the army. Officer Schmidt came to the Schloss. Listened to our tale. He searched the Schloss. The estate. Klaus and Stefan went with him. By now they were armed with torches. It was growing dark outside. And colder.

  Gretchen and the baby vanished. In the blink of an eye. Gone. Just like that. None of us could imagine what had happened. It seemed she had simply walked out. And disappeared. Into oblivion. Her sisters came the next day. They searched every inch of the Schloss. From the attics to the cellars. Went to the doctor in the village. Spoke to the police officer. Went from house to house. Asking if anyone had seen a woman with a baby. Nobody had. So they said.

  Irina and I fretted about Gretchen’s disappearance. For weeks. For months. For years. It was a mystery. One we never solved. We had many theories. And no way of knowing if any were true. And we mourned them and wept about Andreas.

  My God, what a strange story, Justine thought as she closed her grandmother’s book. What on earth could have happened to them? She was still frowning as she went into the bathroom to take a shower, consumed by this troubling story.

  FORTY-THREE

  After her shower, Justine dressed and went for a walk in the garden. Her grandmother did this every morning, and she understood why. There was such beauty out here: the flame-coloured Judas trees, the lilac-blue wisteria and the masses of tulips. The latter were magnificent. Incomparable.

  As she stood staring at them, taking in their brilliance, she suddenly realized how much backbreaking work had gone into their planting and care over the years. Gran had told her how hard she and Uncle Trent had worked, especially when they had first started growing the tulips. ‘It was a labour of love,’ Gabriele had said to her the other day. ‘Trent had the same thirst for natural beauty as I did, and this garden became his real passion. And it was satisfying for me to see such beauty come into being. It was an antidote to all the ugliness I’d seen in my life.’

  Ugliness, brutality, hardship, deprivation. All those things had dominated her grandmother’s life when she was a teenager.
No wonder her work as a designer was so important to her, as well as gardening. Gabriele created beautiful fabrics, lovely rooms, exquisite paintings. These were the things that nourished her, counteracted all that darkness and suffering of long ago.

  Justine sat down on the garden seat and stared at the Bosphorus and Central Istanbul on the other side. It was a beautiful May day. The sky was a crystal-clear blue. The sun was up, bathing everything in its golden light. What a fabulous day.

  For a moment Justine wanted to get up and go into Istanbul, stroll through the shops and boutiques. She had the urge to seek out meaningful presents for Gran and Anita and Michael. And Richard, Daisy, Simon and Joanne. She had the need to do something to show them how much she loved them, cared about them. They were her family. Her treasured family. There was nothing better than that.

  I’ll do it, she said to herself, jumped up and went back into the yali, intent on changing and going into the city.

  Ayce came hurrying out of the kitchen and smiled when she saw Justine. ‘Your grandmother on phone,’ she said, beckoning her to follow.

  As she did so, Justine realized she had left her cell phone upstairs on the bedside table. Picking up the receiver of the landline on the countertop, she said, ‘Hello, Gran darling!’

  ‘Good morning, Justine,’ Gabriele said. ‘I hope I’m not calling too early.’

  ‘No, of course not. I’ve been up for a while, walking in the garden. The tulips are gorgeous.’

  ‘They look their best at this hour,’ Gabriele murmured.

  ‘Gran, there’s something I want to say. I… I love you so much, more than I can ever convey. I’m glad you gave me the leather book to read now, didn’t leave it in your will. Because I am able to tell you how much I admire you, how proud I am to be your granddaughter. To be part of you… I think you’re heroic…’ She stopped abruptly. Her voice was shaking; she blinked back the tears.

  There was a silence at the other end of the phone, and Justine could hear Gabriele gasping slightly, choking back her tears as well. After a second, her grandmother said, a bit unsteadily, ‘I suppose you’re still reading, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I am, because I do have to stop occasionally to get a bit of rest. I’m going to my room to continue when I hang up. I want to finish it before you return from Bodrum. When will you be back, Gran?’

  ‘I think we’ll be able to finish everything by Saturday, fly to Istanbul on Sunday.’

  ‘Gran, there’s something I must tell you! I’m afraid Richard can’t come now. Daisy has an ear infection.’

  ‘Oh dear, I’m sorry to hear that,’ Gabriele responded

  They talked for a few more minutes and then hung up. Justine took a mug of coffee out to the terrace and sat drinking it.

  A short while later she went back to her room, and picked up her cell phone, about to dial Michael in London. Then she realized it was only eight o’clock in Istanbul. London was two hours earlier. He was probably still asleep.

  Sitting down in the chair, she opened her grandmother’s black leather notebook and found her place.

  BERLIN 10 MAY 1940

  The phone had been ringing a lot. Irina had received one call after another. I wondered if something special was happening. At the moment I did my schoolwork in the small office at the front of the house. Where the Herr Baron’s secretary usually worked. But she had gone off to Baden-Baden with the baron, Princess Natalie and all of the vintage wine. The wine cellar had become an air-raid shelter. But as yet not too many bombs had fallen.

  Once more the phone rang. Riddled with curiosity, I put down my pen, went in search of Princess Irina. I found her in the study where the baron usually did his work. She was hanging up the receiver when I tapped on the door, put my head around it. She stood up. For once there was a smile on her face. Her violet-blue eyes were sparkling.

  Something wonderful has happened, she said. I was about to come and find you. What happened? I asked, staring at her. Her whole demeanour was different. I thought, she’s happy. The princess said, At eleven o’clock in London this morning, Winston Churchill walked into Number Ten Downing Street as the new prime minister. He has replaced Neville Chamberlain. And all I can say is thank God for that! And hooray! We’re in safe hands, Gabriele. Now I know for certain. The Third Reich will be defeated.

  How do you know about Churchill? Have you been listening to the BBC, I said. No, she replied. Many phone calls. Prince Kurt told me first. Then C. After him, Hans Oster. Renata von Tiegal. And the Herr Baron phoned from Baden-Baden. He told me Churchill was in power. He reiterated his invitation. We can go and stay with them. I said no. But thank you. He warned me. We’re going to be bombed, he said. That’s wonderful, I told him. I welcome British bombs.

  My aunt Beryl thinks Churchill is brilliant, I confided. She’s right. The princess came forward, got hold of my hands, led me around in a dance. I’d never seen her like this. It’s high time we had a party. I looked at her in astonishment. She laughed. I’m going to invite Prince Kurt, the von Tiegals, the Westheims. Tonight. For dinner. We’ll have champagne. I know the Herr Baron left some behind.

  He did. But we’ve no dinner, I pointed out. An arched auburn brow lifted. No food? I shook my head. Not much. Eggs. Lettuce. We can always get lettuce. Eggs, the princess repeated. Frowned. What can we make with eggs? Oh wait a minute. Parisian eggs! she cried. What are they? I asked. Come, she said. Hurried me out to the kitchen.

  Hedy looked startled, afraid, as we rushed into her domain. Is something wrong? she asked. No, the princess said, smiling. Do we still have cans of anchovies? Hedy nodded, baffled. And mayonnaise? The cook nodded again. Then we can have Parisian eggs for dinner. Ja, Prinzessin, Hedy said. We are having guests. Hedy nodded, still seemed startled.

  We never ate lunch. Food was short. I went back to my schoolwork. The princess said she was going to phone her friends. Later that afternoon she came to the secretary’s office. We must look nice tonight, Gabri, she announced. Come with me. Upstairs in her bedroom she took me into the middle of the room. Under the chandelier. Stared at me. Nodded. You have become beautiful, she said. Blue eyes, blonde hair. Very Aryan. You will be safe. Because of your colouring. She touched my cheek lightly. The scars have healed, she murmured. Disappeared. I nodded. I did not want to think about the scars. They reminded me of the rape. And of Gretchen. Lost somewhere out there. Leaving me, Irina went to the cupboard. She took out a blue silk dress. This will suit you, she said. Handed it to me. Am I coming to the dinner? I asked, puzzled. Absolutely, she said. Renata and Ursula Westheim are your mother’s friends, as am I. And Arabella. Is the Prinzessin here? I asked. Irina shook her head. Zurich. I nodded. I would be intruding, I muttered. No, you wouldn’t, she said. They will come at six thirty. I understand, I replied.

  In my room I went to the chest. Opened the drawer, took out the photograph of my family. It was now in a frame. Irina had given it to me. I sat down, holding it in my hands. Gazing at them. At me with them. I touched my mother’s face. And my father’s. And Erika’s. I’ll see you soon, little one, I whispered. Suddenly, something was wrong with the glass. I couldn’t see them properly. Then I realized it was my tears falling on the glass. I cleaned it with a towel. Put the frame away. In the drawer was the snapshot Arabella had given me last year.

  It was of Anita and me. We were standing in a meadow behind the Schloss. It was a sunny day. Our summer frocks were blowing in the wind. We were laughing into the camera. Arabella had taken it in the summer of 1938. Two years ago.

  I would be sixteen next month. I lay down on the bed. I thought about Winston Churchill. What it meant that he was prime minister. Would he be able to save us? Or were we still doomed? Aunt Beryl said he was the best and the brightest. I trusted auntie Beryl. She was usually right. So we would be saved.

  I was ready at six o’clock. I went and tapped on the princess’s door. As she had told me to do. Inspection time, she called it. She told me to come in. I did. I gasped when I saw her. She lo
oked marvellous. She wore a purple silk dress and red shoes. There was a string of blue beads around her neck. Her auburn hair was piled high on her head. She was a beauty. She stared at me. Took off the blue beads. Put them around my neck. There, she said. Just the right finishing touch. She glanced at my feet. Shook her head. Brought out a pair of silver sandals. Handed them to me. They’re a bit tight, I told her. But worth it, she said. You must always wear blue, Gabri. It’s your colour. She found a string of pearls, put them on, took my hand and led me down the stairs. Because tonight is so special, she said, you can have a glass of champagne. To toast Winston Churchill.

  I knew Ursula Westheim and Renata von Tiegal. They had gone to school with my mother and Arabella. They were Roedean girls through and through. Ursula reminded me of my mother. She was blonde and blue-eyed like Stella. Renata was dark and exotic. Her clothes were always chic. They had stayed in touch with me for the last two years, always concerned. They never forgot my mother.

  I talked to them for a while. Irina was huddled with Sigmund Westheim and Reinhard von Tiegal. I watched them out of the corner of my eye. Plotting again, I thought. Last week I had heard a new name. Claus Von Stauffenberg.

  Prince Kurt von Wittingen was the last to arrive. He looked harried. He rushed all over Europe as a senior consultant to Krupp. It seemed to me he could roam around freely. A useful job. He had been alarmed and concerned about Gretchen’s disappearance.

  He walked over, once he had greeted Irina and the two men. He asked to speak to me privately, after kissing Renata and Ursula on their cheeks. In a quiet corner he seemed to relax. He said, I am still troubled by the situation with Gretchen, Gabri. I can’t imagine what happened to her and the baby boy. What do you think?

  I was flattered to be asked. Irina and I had discussed it many times. I said: I have three theories, Prince. Tell me, he said, leaning closer. I said, The first is that she had made an arrangement to be picked up by somebody that day at a certain time. But no one heard a car on the estate, he murmured. I nodded. The driver could have been waiting on the main road. Outside the gates. True, he said. The second is that she decided to go back to Berlin for some reason. Went out onto the road, hitched a lift. She’s either living safely in Berlin or she is dead. Depending on who she got a lift with. Maybe it was someone who wanted a baby. Who killed her, took the child. Or perhaps she got to Berlin safely and disappeared in the city, wanting to be free of her sisters.