by Pirate Irwin
“And now you are his best friend – that can’t be very reassuring,” she said with a smile.
“Ah yes, but Sebastian has probably learnt his lesson and besides I don’t have a girlfriend that he can steal. Also this is hardly the place for an Englishman to misbehave in if he has any common sense, which Stuart has in spades,” von Preetz replied.
Henrietta felt a stirring in her which she didn’t feel very often on hearing the good-looking young aristocrat in front of her had no companion; he would suit her parents’ ideal husband material and given his family were firmly in the Nazis camp there would be no political objections. I will have him, she thought to herself.
At 23 she was considered a bit old not to already be engaged but she had the unfortunate habit of choosing the wrong man, and had barely been forgiven by her parents for going out with first a married baron and then surpassing that with a year-long affair with a prominent lawyer who turned out to be Jewish, but had through Aryanising his name long before the advent of the Nazis escaped their ban on Jews continuing to work in the professions.
All hell had broken loose in the von Rieckenbach household on the man’s religion being discovered and it was only through her father calling on Goering to intercede that she was saved from being put on trial for “defiling the German race” while her unfortunate lover was sent to the Dachau concentration camp near Munich – she, however, called on her charm to persuade Goering to get him out and he found political exile in France while depositing a princely sum into the ever receptive podgy paws of the Reichsmarschall.
Yes, Lieutenant, at some point to be Baron Eric von Preetz, would be most welcome in the von Rieckenbach household and after two disasters she could pull off a coup.
“So, Eric, no girlfriend, surely you are not afraid of the Stuart jinx!” she giggled and flashed her camel-length eyelashes.
He blushed and reached for the bottle of champagne only to find it empty and was on the point of asking Kessler over to get another one when Henrietta made her move.
“Ah, let’s forget that and go for dinner,” she said.
Von Preetz was taken aback at her forwardness as it was not usual in his circles for women to be quite so blunt, but being naturally shy with the fairer sex he preferred them to take the lead and this girl was quite the most gorgeous one he had met.
“Yes, that is a good idea. I’ll just get my coat, pay the bill and we can move on,” he replied.
Von Preetz stood up and went off to pay at the desk while Henrietta went to make her excuses to the group she had arrived with and was due to have dinner with, which included her date for the evening, a young Luftwaffe pilot highly recommended by Goering to her father.
He was not that pleased and showed it by nodding his head in perfunctory fashion when she put her hand out for it to be kissed but she reasoned all will be sorted if I can catch von Preetz.
As she moved through the club towards where von Preetz was standing, Kessler approached her in his loathsome subservient way. If Charles Dickens had been German, then Uriah Heep would have borne the name of Karl Kessler, that was for sure, she thought.
“Yes, Karl, what is it? The others will take care of the bill as I am in a bit of a hurry and I don’t want to keep Lieutenant von Preetz waiting,” she sighed.
“Miss von Rieckenbach, there is a very special guest of the establishment who wishes to speak with you and I can assure you it will not take five minutes. I am sure the Lieutenant can spare you for that long,” Kessler said and smiled, revealing teeth as sparkling as his pate.
“Very well, take me to this ‘special guest’ of yours but it had better be quick,” she said and grimaced at the thought of who this person would be.
Kessler led her through several tables packed with groups of young girls accompanied by middle-aged Wehrmacht and SS officers and civil servants to a cordoned off area which also had the curtains drawn.
With an extravagant sweep, Kessler opened the red velvet curtains and waved her inside.
With some reluctance Henrietta stepped inside and with the sudden softening of the light from the glare of the larger room it took her a while to register who she was being requested to meet until the little figure rose somewhat unsteadily from the table. It was Josef Goebbels, the saturnine Machiavellian power behind Hitler.
“Miss von Rieckenbach, how nice to make your acquaintance. Won’t you sit down,” he said smiling.
“Herr Reichsminister, this is an honour. Although I must inform you I have a dinner engagement . . .”
“Yes, I know. Karl bring us a bottle of Roederer Cristal and two glasses,” ordered Goebbels and with that Henrietta realized the conquest of von Preetz would have to wait for another day.
“Oh, and Karl, tell Lieutenant von Preetz there is no point waiting as Miss von Rieckenbach has serious matters of state to attend to,” laughed the dwarf-like Goebbels.
Kessler was only delighted to have his moment of glory over von Preetz and he savoured every second of it, taking time to taste every word of his message to its fullest as he explained to the bemused recipient of his mission that he would be having dinner alone tonight.
Von Preetz tried to hide his disappointment and realizing that returning to his table was not an option, for fear of being made to look more ridiculous than he had been made to look already, shrugged his shoulders, thanked Kessler for his service and left.
Mission achieved, Karl returned with the bottle and the caviar that Goebbels had already ordered to his esteemed client, who was seated beside him on the divan, and having served them both, bowed and left the couple to themselves.
“So Henrietta, I am delighted that at last we are alone together,” said Goebbels.
“Herr Reichsminister?”
“Ah yes, I have seen you here several times and always thought what a pleasure it would be to have dinner alone with you,” he smiled, and Henrietta thought it was clear why he had his womanizing reputation because aside from his power he possessed a certain attraction, even though on first sight his angular features resembled a rodent.
“Please, call me Josef, there are to be no formalities tonight. This is simply two citizens of the Reich having a night together,” he said.
“Well thank you . . . Josef, this is what can only be said to be an astonishing and nice surprise,” she replied.
“So, your father is doing fine work at the Luftwaffe from what I hear from Goering and thankfully there are some who know what an onerous but glorious task it is to serve faithfully the Führer.”
“Sorry, I don’t understand, by what you mean, are there those who do not have the same faith?”
“There always are those who lack the same ardour and belief, Henrietta, but don’t worry, they are always discovered or reveal themselves in the due course of time. Here, have some caviar; it really is the finest. That Karl is extremely reliable when it comes to unearthing the best of luxuries which I try to benefit from when time allows in my busy schedule,” he smiled again, though his remarks about those who were not fully devoted to the regime had carried enough menace to warn Henrietta about making wayward remarks despite her invitation to dine.
Dinner passed pleasantly enough and she found Goebbels good company, though she kept an eye on the amount she drank, as she was not too agile on her wits when she had a bucketload and was prone to being indiscreet.
She realized that for her past “sins” there was only going to be one climax to the evening and she knew that there was to be no way out of it, for as charming as her host was he would not take rejection.
“Are you interested in the acting profession, Henrietta?”
“I like cinema and theatre, Josef, but I have never considered a career in it. I don’t think I have the nerve to stand there before a camera or a live audience and recite my lines.”
“That is a pity, because such a beauty as you would light up our screens and as you know, no one can get a part without my say so,” replied Goebbels, who was renowned for picking the
finest starlets for his version of the casting couch.
“Well, if there were still silent movies, then I would maybe fancy it but realistically while thanking you for your compliments I will look elsewhere.”
“Ah well, it was just a suggestion. Thus there is nothing I can offer you I am afraid but for my company and my lonely bed,” and again came that smile which accentuated his ratlike molars.
“I’m sorry Josef, I don’t quite understand – your lonely bed?” stammered Henrietta who still wanted to play it stupid rather than succumbing to his desire at once.
“Oh yes, Henrietta, sadly Magda has had to go away with the children to be with the Führer at Berchtesgaden but I am so busy that I had to stay behind, and well, you know the pressures of my work lead me to resist badly the hardship of staying alone, that’s why I thought a good well-brought up girl like you would be perfect material,” he said.
Henrietta surveyed the curtains, wishing that somehow Kessler would appear and tell the odious man beside her that there was an emergency and he had to return to his duties but there was to be no such relief.
Goebbels didn’t even stand on ceremony, placing his hand on her thigh and moving it down to the bottom of her dress while moving her hand onto his crotch where she could feel his hardened penis.
“Do we have to do this here, Josef? It would be so much nicer in a real bed,” she protested.
Goebbels laughed and moved his hand further up between her legs, touching her with his matchstick like fingers while forcing her legs apart.
“Please, Josef, for the love of God, this is not how I want it. Stop and let’s go to your house,” she cried.
“Shut up, you stupid bitch! Do you think I am going to sully my image and dirty mine and Magda’s bed with the naked body of a whore who slept with a Jew? This is above your station but it will have to do – the only thing that stops you from entering a whorehouse is your dubious previous liaisons and because your impeccably connected father got you out of trouble,” he sneered.
She started to cry, breaking into uncontrollable sobs but they could not be heard as the music from the band in the club struck up with perfect timing and then he began to slap her.
“Take that, and that, and that, you stupid aristocratic whore who should have been sent to a labour camp for her crimes against the Reich,” he screamed.
Henrietta went numb and from then on allowed the perverted little disabled dwarf to do what he wanted as she feigned excitement at the final moment when he came.
“Right, that is what real lovers are like. This has hopefully put some good National Socialism into you. When I told you that unlike your father there are some who are not quite so faithful to the cause, I was thinking of people like you and believe me this is mild punishment compared to what most people get,” on which he stood up smoothed back his hair and buttoned up his trousers.
“I will be off now, Henrietta, don’t worry about the bill, of course that has been taken care of, but you will naturally exercise the very greatest discretion with regard to this evening’s happenings as there are many more men willing to commit themselves to you and I am afraid they are not so generous or gentle,” with that he bent down, kissed her on her cheek and left.
Henrietta lay there for a while, sobbing gently, before pulling down her dress and wiping away her tears with a tissue. She looked into the mirror which hung behind the divan and redid her makeup.
She then made her way out, brushing past Kessler without so much as a word, ignoring his blandishments of how the evening went and what an honour to serve the distinguished Reichsminister before bursting through the doors of the club gasping for air and vomiting onto the pavement.
*
“So what happened to you last night, Henrietta?” enquired Eric. “One moment you are keen to go for dinner, in fact you suggested it, and then the next I am informed by the loathsome Kessler that you are otherwise engaged, which was not very courteous to say the least,” added von Preetz.
Henrietta had been slightly surprised although delighted as well the morning after her traumatic rape by Goebbels to have received a call from Eric suggesting that they take a walk in the Tiergarten and have tea afterwards.
She had eventually got her way home, the Luftwaffe officer having swallowed his pride and seeing her in some distress on exiting the club had followed her out and driven her home without being indiscreet enough to probe how and why she came to be in that state.
Henrietta had thanked him profusely and said she would see him again before running into the house, where her parents were already in bed which came as a relief to her, because she did not want to undergo an interrogation on how the evening had been, as she was still in shock and as far as she was concerned, being violated by the State as she had been through the perversions of Goebbels was bad enough but she believed him when he threatened to bring on his thugs.
Thus she was ecstatic to have the occasion to escape the claustrophobic atmosphere of their family home in Dahlem where she appeared to be constantly shadowed by either her mother Winifred, an elegant lady of good background but totally devoid of warmth with all that existed of her affection going towards her husband, or the butler Hans Schiller.
Eric had picked her up and driven her in his black Volkswagen Beetle to the Tiergarten and now under an azure blue sky they walked side by side through the gardens nodding to various friends and acquaintances they knew which gave her time to think what she could come up with as an excuse.
“Oh, it was an official from my father’s ministry who was having a dinner and wished or rather ordered that I remain and be his guest. I am sorry but an order is an order as we are always told by the government and you as a soldier would know that,” she said and smiled her bewitching smile.
“Yes, that is for sure, orders are orders but I don’t understand why Kessler had to inform me and not you,” von Preetz said.
“They had already ordered and so I had to hurry up, thus Kessler was sent to deliver the message. That is that and there is nothing sinister about it. Anyway we’re together now and I am happy that we are and let’s just enjoy ourselves,” she sighed.
Von Preetz was not satisfied with her explanation but shrugged his shoulders, breathed in deeply and decided to leave the topic alone for now, as he too was happy that they were together.
“Heard anything from Stuart today?” asked Henrietta.
“Yes, he said he got thoroughly drunk last night after he left us, and had an athletic night with his mysterious girlfriend and may join us later at the club if you don’t mind,” chuckled Eric.
That was just not what Henrietta wanted to hear, for while she was keen to get to know the enigmatic Sebastian, she never wanted to set foot inside the club again.
“Oh, that would be nice but can’t we go somewhere else like Drucker’s restaurant which is comfortable and where the service is genuinely friendly and not slimy like Kessler’s?” she said.
“Well, Kessler is odious, that is true, but that isn’t a good reason for keeping away, but there again as we are on our first date, Drucker’s it shall be,” he smiled and gripped her hand affectionately.
That settled, they took tea, eating their way through apple strudel and various other heavy cakes, topped with cream, while chatting on various topics apart from the obvious one, the impending sense that war was unavoidable, and while she admitted to herself he was even better looking in his field grey Wehrmacht uniform she also reflected that would be no protection against the shells and bullets once it began.
“I know what you are thinking, Henrietta, that this may be one of the last occasions we see each other because of the inevitability of the war but believe me, my father thinks that the agreement at Munich last year delayed it if not totally ruled out war so this uniform could well be archaic come next autumn!”
“I was just feeling sad for a moment that so many young couples who are engaged or just married are going through their last summer together but if what you say
is true then there should be little for me to be concerned about,” she said.
Von Preetz stayed silent and took out his gold cigarette case, proffering one to her, which she accepted, and then both sat back in their wicker chairs and stared into the distance, the two of them wishing Eric’s father was right but instinctively knowing that like all gamblers and dictators Hitler would land on the wrong number of the roulette wheel eventually.
Von Preetz, though, also felt a certain excitement because of the attention he was receiving from the beautiful girl opposite him, and her good-naturedness and gentleness were two characteristics he admired most in people. Sebastian was the exception to the rule but he was a very exceptional young man, he joked to himself.
Maybe like the gambler in power he would break a family tradition and put his whole stake on her because he was virtually certain she was keen to receive him and with her father a highflyer in the Luftwaffe and an aristocrat to boot there should be no objections from his father while Victoria would be positively drooling at the thought of their getting married.
“There must be a lot of people thinking of marriage if like your father they adhere to the theory that war is imminent, no?” suggested Henrietta, immediately regretting her impulsiveness and what Eric would infer from her comment.
Awoken from his thoughts, he looked at her with his deep blue eyes piercing, she felt, right into her soul. Oh how I want him she thought, and he said: “What, couples like us, just out for our first date, walking in the Tiergarten, overloaded with strudel and coffee, smoking the finest Russian tobacco are completely overcome and become betrothed in an instant . . . I don’t think so, you impetuous young thing!” and with that he let out a great belly laugh with his head tilting back so his golden hair flowed down making a nice contrast to the fading green of the grass which was withering away following the endless weeks of sunshine.
She was slightly taken aback by his ridiculing her but admitted it was what she deserved and took it with good grace while fighting to resist the urge to embrace him in a manner he would find too uncomfortable for a boy of his timidity.