Irina nodded in consent, and they both excused themselves and sauntered off in the direction of the prince and princess.
Left alone together, Renata faced Ursula, frowning slightly. ‘Are you feeling all right, Ursi?’ she asked, peering at her friend. ‘You look so very pale tonight.’
Ursula was silent for a moment, and then she gave Renata a direct look and, suddenly wanting to unburden herself, she confessed, ‘I live with the most corrosive anxiety, Ren. It’s perfectly awful. So debilitating. And although I try desperately to control myself, I’m filled with terrible apprehension most of the time.’
Renata’s face reflected her sympathy and her understanding. ‘We all feel the same way, and with good reason. We’re in the hands of criminals. Let’s face it, the German Government is being led by a bunch of gangsters.’
‘Keep your voice down,’ Ursula cautioned in a whisper, ‘the Gestapo’s everywhere. Even at this party, I’m sure.’
‘Yes, you’re probably right,’ Renata replied dully, adopting the same whispering tone.
Automatically they both edged further into the corner, and Renata stared at Ursula in dismay and let out a weary sigh. ‘I wonder why we bothered to come here tonight, knowing the place would be seething with them and the SS-and God knows who else?’
‘To be together in a friendly atmosphere at a friendly embassy where there are still a few civilised people left to talk to, and to have a pleasant evening with each other, I do believe,’ Ursula murmured, and squeezed her arm, wanting to reassure her friend.
‘Hello, you two,’ a husky, very cultured, very English voice said, and knowing that it was Arabella von Wittingen standing behind them they swung around and greeted her lovingly.
She was an English aristocrat, the former Lady Arabella Cunningham, and the sister of the Earl of Langley. Tall, slender, and elegant this evening in a bottle-green brocade dinner suit composed of a long skirt and a tailored jacket, Arabella had light-blue eyes and a skin like a peach.
Her manner was insouciant, and her pretty mouth twitched with amusement when she said, ‘I can hardly believe my eyes! A member of the Ambassador’s staff must have gone slightly mad. What an invitation list! Some of the raciest ladies in Berlin are present this evening, not to mention those cuties over there, the ones draped all over the Nazi officers.’ She laughed uproariously. ‘The three of them look as if they’ve just stepped out of Madam Kitty’s front door,’ she continued, referring to the most famous brothel in Berlin. ‘Out of several beds in Madam Kitty’s, I should have said,’ she added as an afterthought, and laughed again.
Renata also laughed. ‘You are wicked.’
Ursula chuckled with them, and exclaimed softly, ‘And you’re as irreverent as ever and brutally honest, but then that’s why we love you, Belle darling.’
Ursula spoke the truth.
These three women did love each other; they had been devoted friends for the past eighteen years. They had met in 1920 when, at the age of sixteen, they were pupils at Roedean, the famous English girls’ school near Brighton. In the two years they had attended the school they had been considered a daunting trio—intelligent, confident, self-assured, independent and, at times, rebellious. The friendship had continued after their schooldays, and Renata and Ursula had gone frequently to stay with Arabella at Langley Castle in Yorkshire, which was the family seat; Arabella had journeyed to Berlin to visit both girls at different times. In 1923 she and Renata were bridesmaids at Ursula’s marriage with Sigmund. After the wedding, Arabella had gone with Renata to stay at the home of her fiance, Graf Reinhard von Tiegal, at his Schloss on the edge of the forests of the Spree in the Mark Brandenburg, a country area outside Berlin. It was there that she had met Prince Rudolf Kurt von Wittingen, with whom she had fallen in love, and he with her. They had been married a year later, after which Arabella had come to live in Berlin permanently. The three women had drawn closer than ever, and from this day forward were as inseparable as they had been at school in England in their teens.
Their irrepressible laughter broke the tension Ursula and Renata had been experiencing a few moments ago, before Arabella’s arrival. Now Renata motioned to a waiter. ‘Let’s have another glass of champagne,’ she suggested to her closest friends, her expression brightening considerably.
‘That’s a good idea,’ Ursula said, and after helping herself to a flute of the wine, she went on, ‘It’s ages since we’ve had a quiet moment together without our children. Why don’t we go and sit over there and talk for a few minutes.’
‘Splendid thought,’ Arabella said, and Renata agreed with her. They strolled over to a group of chairs arranged in front of a window, where they made themselves comfortable and began to talk about inconsequential things. Each of them wanted desperately to create a sense of normalcy about their lives in these most abnormal times, and they drew comfort from each other, and a feeling of greater security from being together.
They did not move until their husbands came to escort them in to dinner. And later they agreed that for them this short interlude had been the best part of the evening at the British Embassy.
EIGHT
‘I’m glad you told Henrietta we had to leave,’ Theodora Stein said, looking across at her boyfriend Willy Herzog, who stood on the other side of the small foyer, putting on his overcoat. ‘I have to get up early tomorrow.’ She made a face at the thought.
Willy nodded as he reached for his hat. ‘We’ll only get a few hours’ sleep, that’s true, it’s an early start for me, too. It was a grand party and I enjoyed myself, but it’s going on a bit too long.’
‘Yes, I agree, Willy.’
Theodora glanced at the door which led into the living room and through which could be heard varied sounds—voices raised in revelry, and laughter, and gramophone music. She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. ‘But then, how often are you twenty-one, Willy?’ Since this was a rhetorical question she did not expect an answer, and she rushed on, ‘I suppose Henrietta wanted to make the most of this very special birthday. And I don’t blame her. I know I will when I’m twenty-one. I plan to have a fancy party too.’
Willy flashed her a wide grin. ‘Will I be invited?’
‘If you’re still around, Willy Herzog. If you haven’t sailed off to America as you keep threatening to do,’ she shot back, giving him a flirtatious look. ‘Are you still planning to go over there to join your Uncle Nathan in Brooklyn and study to be a dentist?’
‘Doctor,’ he corrected. He frowned. ‘It’s the getting of the American visas, Theodora. Very difficult it is. They’re extremely hard to come by, I think I told you that before. Anyway, my father has a friend in Frankfurt who has a friend who knows a consular official who might be able to help us. For the right price. That’s why my father went to Frankfurt yesterday, hoping to bribe this man and get the three visas we need. For himself, and for my sister Clara and me.’
Willy cleared his throat. ‘I’d like to go to America… want to go… but…’ He hesitated and cleared his throat again, looked down, studied his shoes. When he looked up he fixed his gentle, hazel eyes on Theodora. ‘I don’t want to leave you,’ he announced, surprising himself and startling her. There, it’s out at last, he thought. He had finally said it, had had the courage to tell her what had been on his mind for weeks. Relief surged through him as he stood gazing adoringly at Theodora.
Stupefied, and totally at a loss for words, she gaped back at him, amazement registering on her face.
Willy flung down his hat, leapt across the foyer, pulled her into his arms and held her close. ‘I love you, Teddy,’ he said against the top of her head, kissing her silky fair hair. ‘I do, I love you.’
‘Oh… Oh… Is this a proposal then?’
There was a small silence.
He said at last, ‘Do I want to marry you? Yes… yes… and yes, it’s a proposal.’
‘Oh Willy! I don’t know what to say, I’m only nineteen and you’re only nineteen. We’re so young and—’
<
br /> ‘Don’t you love me?’
Now it was Theodora’s turn to be silent.
She wondered if she did love him. She wasn’t sure. Perhaps she did. He was very nice looking and quiet and studious, and serious about studying medicine, and he had lovely manners. Mrs Mandelbaum, Henrietta’s mother, was always saying Willy was a real mensh. And it was true, he was a haimisher mensh, so easy to be around, very comfortable. Yes, Willy was a good man, and he went to shul regularly, and in the year she had known him he had never done a thing to upset her, had never put a foot wrong. But marriage? She hadn’t thought about that before. But she could do worse. Much worse. Besides, she didn’t mind it when he kissed her. In fact, she liked it. He had soft warm lips and sweet breath and he always smelled fresh and clean, of soap and Kolnisch Wasser. And he was gentle with her, never tried to force her, or make her do anything wrong. When he kissed her she always got a funny feeling inside, and her heart pounded, and she grew warm and flushed. Yes, Willy was special, now that she really thought about it. She didn’t want to lose him. Quite suddenly she knew she would never find anybody who was better than Willy.
She said slowly, ‘I think I love you, Willy.’ There was a little pause, and she said more firmly, ‘Yes, I do love you.’
‘Oh Teddy! That makes me so happy. And will you marry me?’
There was another fractional pause before she acquiesced. ‘Yes, Willy Herzog, I will.’
He put his hand under her chin and lifted her small heart-shaped face to his, kissed her pretty upturned nose, her eyelids and finally her sweet lips. They held the kiss, making it last, and they clung to each other tightly until they had to break away to catch their breaths.
Willy pressed her head against his shoulder and stroked her hair and in silent communion they lingered in their embrace. They knew that a commitment had been made, by the one to the other, and it was a serious moment, very meaningful and precious to them both, and they did not want to let it go.
Finally Theodora gently pushed Willy away, extracted herself from his arms. ‘Look at the clock, Willy, it’s almost midnight. We must leave. I’ll hardly get any sleep before I have to be up to take care of Maxim. The little one’s always awake early.’
‘Yes, we had better go. Come on.’
‘Let me put my hat on first. It’s a cold night, and even colder on the back of your motorbike.’
Turning to the coatstand, Theodora took down her green-and-blue tartan tam o’shanter and looked at herself in the Biedermeier mirror as she put it on, then tightened her matching scarf around her neck. She fished a woollen glove out of each pocket of her navy-blue winter coat, and said, ‘I’m ready then.’
They let themselves out of the Mandelbaums’ apartment and Willy closed the door behind them; pausing on the landing, he took hold of Theodora’s shoulders and gently turned her face to him. ‘So, we have an understanding, Theodora? You will meet me under the chuppa and become my wife?’
She nodded solemnly and her expression was serious, but her light green eyes were shining and they danced with happiness. ‘Yes, Willy. Yes to both your questions, and I shall write to my Aunt Ketti to tell her. As my only living relative she’d want to know that I’m… engaged… to be married.’
‘That’s true. And I shall inform my father, when he gets back from Frankfurt, and I shall also tell him that I can’t go to America. Not without you. We’ll have to get a visa for you, Teddy. I’ll stay in Berlin until we can both go to Brooklyn to my Uncle Nathan’s.’
She smiled and nodded and took his hand in hers and together they went down the steep flight of stairs and crossed the vestibule of the apartment building.
As Willy opened the door leading into the street, Theodora stiffened alertly, grabbed hold of his arm. ‘Listen! Isn’t that the sound of breaking glass?’
‘You’re right, it is. I hope it’s not a burglar trying to get into Mr Mandelbaum’s jewellery shop. I’d better go and see. Wait here.’
‘No! Don’t go out, Willy! It’s dangerous!’ she cried.
He paid no attention to her warning, hurried into the narrow street, where he immediately collided with a stormtrooper who stood staring up at the building.
The stormtrooper grabbed Willy by the shoulder and swung him to one side. ‘Hey you! Watch it! Watch where you’re going, you clumsy dolt!’
‘I’m very sorry, sir,’ Willy said politely, struggling to break free from the man’s grip, but it was tenacious. ‘Please, let go of me.’
On hearing this request the stormtrooper tightened his hold, peered at Willy in the pale light coming through the door’s transom from the vestibule. ‘Why should I let go of you? You might be a Jew for all I know. Is this a Jewish house? Are you a Jew?’
Theodora, who had been listening with growing alarm behind the door, could no longer contain herself. She rushed outside before Willy had a chance to answer—and perhaps unwittingly say the wrong thing altogether.
‘Let him go!’ she yelled, drawing to a stop right in front of the stormtrooper. ‘Let him go at once!’ she repeated, her voice rising shrilly. ‘We haven’t done anything.’
‘You have if you’re Jews. Are you stinking shitty Jews?’ He grinned sadistically and twisted Willy’s shoulder back so far Theodora cringed and sucked in her breath.
Willy was stoic. He gritted his teeth and he did not cry out once, despite the sharp pain.
‘Come on, confess it,’ the stormtrooper snarled, ‘this is a Jewish house, and you’re both Jews.’
‘We are not Jews! What kind of a thing is that to say!’ Theodora exclaimed. And with immense hauteur she drew herself up to her full height of five foot five, and glared at him. She was as bold as brass as she faced him down unflinchingly.
‘My name is Theodora Marie-Theresa Schmidt and this is Wilhelm Braun, and we’re both good Catholics and good Germans.’ She gulped, took a deep breath. ‘And good Nazis, yes, we are indeed that. Heil Hitler!’ She thrust her arm straight out in front of her in the Nazi salute. ‘Heil Hitler! Long live our magnificent Führer! Long live the Third Reich!’ She saluted again.
The stormtrooper gaped at her in astonishment.
And so did Willy. When she had rushed out into the street his heart had almost stopped and he had been terrified, more for her than for himself. But now he knew she was going to get away with this act because of her insolence, her aggressiveness and her effrontery. He’ll believe her, Willy thought, because he’s certain no Jew would dare to confront him like this, or shout at a Nazi stormtrooper the way she is shouting at him. Her anger and her arrogance were so perfectly simulated, and she spoke with such conviction, who could doubt that she was telling the truth? It was quite a performance she was giving. Willy marvelled at it, and at her audacity.
Theodora continued to rail at the man. ‘You’ve got a flashlight in your hand,’ she bellowed. ‘Shine it on us. Shine it on Willy. Go on, do it! You’ll see he’s not a Jew!’ Before the stormtrooper could stop her she leaned forward and snatched the flashlight out of his hand, turned it on and levelled it at Willy.
Willy held his breath, once again petrified for her, for them both.
‘Take your hat off, Willy!’ She spoke so authoritatively, he did as she said, pulling off his hat with his free hand, whilst praying under his breath.
‘Look at him!’ she ordered the stormtrooper. ‘Look at him! Willy has sandy-red hair and more freckles than you’ve ever seen on anybody, and hazel eyes. Is that a Jewish face? No, it’s an Aryan face.’
Dramatically, she turned the flashlight on herself.
‘And just look at me. I’m the Nordic type personified,’ She pulled her long hair over her shoulder. ‘See, I have fair hair and green eyes and skin the colour of a rose. Do I look Semitic? Of course I don’t, because I’m not.’
At last the stormtrooper found his voice. ‘Looks can be very deceptive,’ he snapped. Nonetheless, some of the harshness and bluster had gone out of him, and he seemed uncertain in the face of her anger and
her torrent of words uttered in such superior and confident tones. But he continued to hold on to Willy, even tightening his grasp.
Theodora drew closer and said with icy imperiousness, ‘What you say is true. Looks can deceive. And perhaps you are not all you appear to be. I said Heil Hitler before. Why didn’t you respond in the same way, as you’re supposed to? I hope you’re a loyal Party member.’ She threw back her shoulders proudly, and tossed her head, spoke more arrogantly than ever. ‘My father is SS Gruppenführer Schmidt. He is a good friend of Reichsführer Himmler. He knows him very well.’ Summoning every ounce of her nerve, Theodora now waved the flashlight in front of the startled stormtrooper’s face. She stared at him, as if committing his face to memory. ‘What’s your name, corporal?’ she asked, her eyes narrowing.
The stormtrooper reacted as she had expected he would, furiously pushing her arm away. ‘Get that light out of my eyes!’ he yelled, and leaning towards her he grabbed the flashlamp from her with great roughness.
Unperturbed, Theodora said, ‘Did you hear me, corporal? My father is a friend of Himmler’s, and he’s a powerful man in the SS. He’s not going to be happy when he knows we’ve been detained by you in this way. I asked you your name, corporal. So, what is it?’
It was apparent the stormtrooper had believed everything Theodora had said thus far, and this second reference to Himmler, who was head of the SS, seemed to both frighten and galvanise him. Abruptly he let go of Willy.
Instantly Theodora took hold of Willy’s arm and pulled him close to her side. ‘Come on, let’s go,’ she said.
‘Yes, you’d better get off,’ the stormtrooper exclaimed sharply, stepping back. ‘Go on, go home! A lot’s about to happen. Soon it won’t be safe on the streets. We’re after Jews tonight.’ As he said this he laughed raucously and slapped his thigh, as if it was a huge joke, and, without so much as another word or a glance, he turned from them indifferently, walked on down the narrow street, shining his flashlight on other shop windows.
The Women in His Life Page 9