What Tomorrow Brings

by Mary Fitzgerald

  I looked into my glass, while beside me a man who had lost all hope wept and I had nothing to say that would comfort him except . . . ‘My friend tells me that there is a Zionist group who are getting Jews out. Perhaps they can help. The rabbis know how to get in touch with them.’

  ‘Yes, yes, we have all heard of them,’ Dieter snapped, anger replacing despair. ‘You have told me nothing new. These people may not be real. But if they exist they are not for the people who are already taken.’ He stood up. ‘You go now. I don’t want you here. I don’t want to answer any more of your stupid questions or hear of the few pathetic myths you have learned. Your naïvety makes me sick.’

  For a moment I considered arguing with him and saying that I wasn’t naïve and that I was just trying to do my job, but he had gone to the door and was holding it open. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered, offering my hand, but he wouldn’t take it and I went out, my heart thumping, as the door slammed behind me.

  It was a moonless night and the side street was dark and empty; I was scared and almost wished my watcher was about. My fear was mixed with anger, directed at myself as much as at Dieter. How could I have been so careless with my questions to him? So thoughtless? I knew the facts and I knew how dangerous Berlin was, but in only watching and reporting I’d taken a coward’s way. Even Paul had chided me earlier about being too cautious.

  As for Dieter, why hadn’t he and Rachel left earlier? They knew she would be targeted, but then I remembered that she had stayed because of her parents and he had stayed because of her. As I walked back to the hotel, leaving the dark street and heading along the busy and brightly lit Unter der Linden towards Pariser Platz and the Adlon, I wondered: would I stay in a dangerous place because of my mother? The honest answer had to be no. Would I stay for Amyas? For Marisol? Yes, of course I would. The difference was love.

  That night I phoned the paper and filed a report. It was brief and only said that I was returning in the morning. ‘Can’t say more, not here,’ I said and the telephonist at the newspaper, who took my message, seemed to understand.

  ‘Good luck, dear,’ she said. ‘Take care,’ and that moved me almost more than Dieter’s tears. I went up to bed, longing for home.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  London

  I FLEW HOME the next afternoon, having spent the morning shopping for clothes for Marisol, chocolates for Alice and a box of Berlin pastries for Jacob and Kitty.

  ‘Where is she?’ I cried, turning the key in my door and stepping inside. Alice, who was sitting on the sofa, listening to the radio, put her finger to her lips.

  ‘She’s asleep in the nursery. Go and see her but don’t wake her up.’

  My girl seemed to have grown in the few days I’d been away, and as I leant over her cot and kissed her little cheek, she moved and murmured in her sleep. ‘You will be safe,’ I whispered to her. ‘Whatever happens I will make sure of it.’

  Charlie came to the flat early the next morning while I was still in my dressing gown making tea. ‘My God, you don’t waste time,’ I yawned.

  ‘No, I don’t, Blake,’ he grinned. And while I went to get dressed, he made breakfast.

  I’d sent Alice home for the day, and now I could hear Marisol chattering to her stuffed rabbit.

  ‘Mama,’ she laughed, fastening her dark eyes on me, and I bent over and picked her up. ‘You’re a lovely girl,’ I cooed at her, ‘but I think you need a wash,’ and I took her to the bathroom.

  ‘Blake, where are you?’ I heard Charlie calling.

  ‘In the bathroom, with Marisol,’ I shouted back.

  He put his head around the door. ‘God,’ he said. ‘She’s gorgeous,’ and he rolled up his sleeves and took over the bathing while I sorted out her clothes.

  Later, I held her in my arms while we ate breakfast, handing her to him only when I got up to pour more tea. When I brought the cups back to the table, I laughed.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Charlie, who was struggling to keep his glasses out of Marisol’s curious little hands. ‘What?’

  ‘We look like a typical married couple,’ I said. ‘Mummy, Daddy and baby.’

  ‘I wish we were.’ Charlie said the words into Marisol’s cheek and stood up to take her back to the nursery for her morning sleep.

  ‘For God’s sake, Charlie,’ I said, exasperated. ‘You’re already married.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said bleakly as he went to put Marisol in her cot.

  It’s time we had this out, I thought, finishing off my coffee. I have to ask him about Diana and why he doesn’t seem to love her or want to be with her.

  ‘All right,’ he said when he came back. ‘It’s time for a debriefing.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve got tons to tell you and ideas for a couple of extra articles but first . . . Charlie, tell me about Diana. You keep flirting with me and making remarks. It’s not fair to her and it seems so out of character for you.’ I thought back to that phone call I’d made to his home in Dorset. When she’d answered, she sounded quite harsh, as though she knew who I was and resented my call. ‘I spoke to her when I called you at home. She didn’t sound happy, does she know you make up to other women?’

  ‘No.’ Charlie sat down heavily on the wooden chair beside the window. ‘She doesn’t. She doesn’t know anything. Seven years ago she was thrown from her horse and paralysed from the waist down. She also suffered some brain damage.’ He gave a swift, sad smile. ‘Funny thing is, she’s always so happy to see me, although she doesn’t really know who I am.’

  ‘But,’ I said, upset by what he’d told me and almost disbelieving, ‘I spoke to her. She sounded quite sensible.’

  ‘You spoke to Clarissa, Diana’s sister. She’s been with us since Diana came out of hospital and has looked after her devotedly. Clarissa runs the house, nurses Diana and cares for the boys when they’re home from school.’

  ‘The boys?’

  ‘Yes, my stepsons. Diana was a widow with two boys when I married her.’

  I put my hand across the table and took his. ‘I’m sorry, Charlie,’ I said. ‘I shouldn’t have asked, it’s none of my business.’

  He sighed. ‘I’m afraid it is now, Blake. Now that I’ve told you. I’ll keep coming back from Dorset and grumbling to you about the latest slighting remark that Clarissa has made. She doesn’t like me because, as she never tires of telling me, I’m not a patch on Diana’s first husband. Basil was my cousin, you know, but we weren’t a bit alike. He farmed and rode to hounds.’ Charlie frowned. ‘Christ, they were all so very horsey.’

  I smiled. Although it was a sad story, it made Charlie more understandable and the thought of him being part of a horsey family was funny. ‘I can’t think what on earth Diana saw in you,’ I said. ‘Or you in her, for that matter.’

  ‘Oh, she was all right, quite sweet in many ways, and I liked the boys. I hated to think of them without a father, so, even though Diana is a bit older than me, I stepped in.’

  ‘Like you did with Marisol?’

  ‘No. That’s different. I adore our little girl. I feel as though I could be her real father.’

  I was about to pour scorn on that remark but then I realised that his emotions were no different from mine. I felt as though I was her real mother. ‘We’re a sorry pair,’ I smiled. I thought of how I was hopelessly in love with Amyas, and Charlie feeling the same about me.

  ‘I don’t think so, Blake. I think we’re lucky. Now,’ he leant forward. ‘Let’s get down to work.’

  It took most of the morning for me to tell him about Berlin and to write copy for the paper. ‘This is good stuff,’ Charlie said after we’d finished. ‘I’ll go in this afternoon to set it all in motion and, naturally, your name will be fronting it. The photographs, delivered courtesy of Wilf Cutler, have already been developed.’ He laughed. ‘How you charmed Wilf into bringing them to us, untouched and unpinched I might add, I can’t imagine. He wouldn’t have done it for me.’

  ‘I introduced him to von Klausen,’ I said. ‘He got
to talk to someone very close to the centre. Perhaps it was some sort of a thank-you.’

  ‘Well, whatever, your whole piece is going to be terrific. You’ve done great work, especially getting close to Heydrich.’

  ‘But you met him, remember, at that dance at the Kaiserhof.’

  ‘I did,’ Charlie agreed. ‘But it was only a brief handshake before he moved on. No, Blake. I confess, I’m jealous.’

  I laughed. ‘That’s good.’

  He grinned, then looked at my notes again. ‘I see you found Xanthe.’

  ‘I did, but, Charlie, I’ve lost her again.’ I told him about von Klausen coming to the hotel and saying that she’d gone to Bavaria. ‘I don’t think I believe him, but if she did go, I’m positive that she didn’t go of her own accord.’

  ‘Mm,’ he nodded. ‘And she didn’t know anything about what von Klausen and Heydrich were up to?’

  ‘No, not really. You know how dense she is, although . . .’ I remembered the one snippet of conversation about von Klausen going away. ‘She did mention a place, a place von Klausen was having meetings about and where he was going at the end of August.’

  ‘What place?’

  ‘D’you know, I’m struggling. I should have written it down, but at the time it wasn’t possible . . . it was something like Gleiwik, or Gleiwitz, yes, that’s what it was Gleiwitz.’

  ‘Gleiwitz. Where the hell is that?’

  ‘I don’t know and of course Xanthe didn’t either, but somehow I think it’s important.’

  ‘Could be. I’ll look it up when I go into the office.’

  I knocked on Jacob’s door after Charlie had gone. I had Marisol on my arm and the box of pastries, which I’d kept overnight in my American fridge, dangling from my finger by the little cord that tied it. ‘Hello, Jacob. I’m home again. I brought you a taste of Berlin.’

  He ushered me in. ‘Thank you, dear Seffy. It is thoughtful of you.’ He seemed rather distracted, and although I was made as welcome as usual, I could see that he had something on his mind.

  ‘Where’s Kitty?’ I asked.

  ‘Ah,’ Jacob replied. ‘I have arranged for her to have extra tuition to improve her English. She is with a tutor, down the road from here; she and two other children who came on the Kindertransport. I am happy for her, but . . .’

  ‘But what, Jacob? What is it?’

  Putting Willi down on his little bed, Jacob went to his desk and picked up a letter. I could see from where I was sitting that it was official. It had a government stamp on it. ‘Read this, Seffy,’ he said. ‘Tell me what I should do.’

  It was a letter from the Department of War, telling Jacob that the British government intended to register all German aliens living within the United Kingdom and that he should report to the nearest police station.

  ‘Goodness,’ I looked up at him. ‘This is a bit of a facer.’

  ‘It’s like Germany all over again,’ he cried, running his hands through his hair so that it stood up like a grey halo. ‘Registered, counted, put on a list. What will be next? Prison?’

  ‘It won’t come to that, I’m sure. You’ve been here, what is it now, ten years?’

  ‘Fourteen,’ Jacob said, sitting down on his chair and beckoning Willi to jump on his knee. ‘Fourteen years of paying my taxes and behaving like a good citizen.’

  ‘Look,’ I said. ‘I don’t think anything will come of it. Go to the police station and register. It would be better to do it straight away because that will prove that you are happy to comply with government rules. If you don’t go, they might come looking for you and that would make you look guilty of something.’ I had another thought. ‘What about Kitty?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ sighed Jacob, leaning over and taking the letter out of my hand. ‘It says aliens sixteen and over. She’s not sixteen.’

  ‘Then I don’t think you must tell them about her. Though they might know already, I imagine they keep an eye on German immigrants.’

  ‘Do they? Haven’t they got a quota of how many people should be allowed in?’

  ‘I wouldn’t worry about that. Some other child will have stayed behind, his parents not able to bear giving him up. You know how it is.’ I tried to sound confident, but I was sure that the civil service had a very precise list of all the children who had immigrated and where they had gone and they would probably catch up with Kitty some time. ‘Go to the police station this afternoon. I would.’

  Willi suddenly pricked up his ears and thumped his tail, and the next moment I heard the sound of the key in the door and Kitty came in.

  ‘Oh, Seffy,’ she cried. ‘You have come home.’ She rushed towards me and gave me a kiss, and then after taking off her jacket she took Marisol into her arms and cooed at her.

  ‘I hear that you are having some extra lessons,’ I said. ‘Do you like your tutor?’

  ‘Oh yes, I do,’ Kitty said. ‘She is very nice. I have been doing a lesson this afternoon, learning . . . contractions. I can say, “I’ve” instead of I have and “we’ll” instead of we will. Like you do.’

  ‘Very good,’ I laughed. ‘It will not – that is, it won’t – take you long to speak fluently. So what have you been doing besides that?

  ‘Yesterday I went for a walk with Miss Alice and Marisol. She showed me the Houses of Parliament and told me some history about London. She is so good like that. I love going out with her and she has promised to take me to other places and tell me stories about them.’

  Jacob got up and put the letter on his desk. ‘I shall make coffee to go with these pastries,’ he said, leaving Kitty, Marisol and me together.

  ‘How was Berlin?’ asked Kitty. She didn’t look at me, but I guessed she wanted to know whether I’d been to see her mother. I had to tell her straight away.

  ‘Kitty,’ I said. ‘I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, but I couldn’t get into Auguststrasse, so I didn’t see your mother. The whole area seems to be out of bounds, particularly to reporters, which is what I am. I did meet someone the other evening whose wife has been regularly going in there to see her mother, but now she’s been taken. To a camp, I suppose.’ I took the girl’s hand. ‘I know that this isn’t nice for you to hear but I think, I hope, you would rather I was honest.’

  She nodded. I don’t think she could speak, her emotions were running too high, and she rocked Marisol in her arms while my girl tried to undo Kitty’s thick plait.

  I cast my mind about, trying to think of something to cheer her up and then it struck me. ‘Kitty,’ I said. ‘I’m thinking about going down to Cornwall for a few days, to the seaside. Perhaps at the end of the week. Why don’t you come with me? That is, if Uncle Jacob agrees.’

  ‘What do I have to agree about?’ Jacob had come in with a tray of coffee.

  ‘I want to take Kitty to Cornwall for a few days. Please let her come; you too, Jacob, if you would like. There’s plenty of room.’

  ‘I will stay in London,’ he said. ‘There are things I have to do.’ He jerked his head towards the desk where the letter from the government lay. ‘But Kitty, yes. It will be good for her. Thank you, Seffy.’

  I turned to Kitty. ‘Would you like that?’

  She looked up and I could see that she had tears in her eyes. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘I would like it very much.’

  So it was decided. Alice was thrilled with the prospect. ‘I’ve never been to Cornwall,’ she said. ‘All over the world with some of my families, but never Cornwall. It’ll be a right treat.’

  I went into the office the next day and wrote my piece and took it and the photographs into the editor’s office. He was sitting at his desk enveloped, as usual, in a cloud of blue, foul-smelling, pipe smoke.

  ‘D’you mind having a look at this?’ I asked. ‘Is it what you wanted?’

  I waited while he scanned the article and leafed through the pictures and was quite alarmed when he slapped them down on his desk. Oh God, I thought. He doesn’t like it.

  ‘You see,’ said
Geoff, pointing to my typewritten paper and the photographs, ‘that’s what the others don’t get about you and I do. You always seem to be able to gain access to the right people. The pictures of Heydrich and the piece about the picnic are terrific. They give insight into the minds of ordinary Germans.’

  ‘They’re not that ordinary,’ I said. ‘Those picnickers were all party members. But at the same time, I did get the impression that the majority of the population, certainly in Berlin, are ready for war. They know what’s coming and I think they approve.’ I sighed, thinking of Dieter and Rachel. ‘The minority are terrified and are being terrorised. I’ll be giving you another article about that.’

  He gave me an odd look. ‘So, you’re not thinking of leaving us?’

  ‘No,’ I said, confused. ‘Why would I?’

  He bashed out his pipe in the ashtray and I watched, wondering when the thick glass would break. ‘Look, Miss Blake, we all know that you brought a baby back with you from Spain. There has been talk that you won’t be able to manage your brief with your responsibilities at home.’

  That’s bloody Monica, I thought. She’s been spreading the poison again. But why now?

  ‘I do have a baby,’ I admitted. ‘I adopted her in Spain on our last assignment. Her mother died giving birth to her and her father entrusted her to me. And,’ I said, surprised at how fiercely my words came out, ‘I will never give her up, no matter what Miss Cathcart and her friends might say.’

  Geoff gave an embarrassed little cough. ‘I thought there was more to your adventure in Spain than Charlie put in the article. Is one to presume that the other person who helped you was this child’s father? Do you have a name?’

  I frowned. Our editor was a newspaperman through and through. He understood the necessity of not disclosing one’s sources. And what if just saying his name put Amyas in danger?