No sooner had they left the sanctuary of Aberdeen harbour than the sea began to make itself felt. Fortunately, her cabin was mid-ship which minimized the effect, but winter sailings never seemed to be calm. Her nerves began to get the better of her, and her thoughts began to race and tumble. Had she made the right decision? How would she find Germany now that its ambition seemed to know no bounds? Would she be able to cope with being a foreigner in the face of such rabid nationalism? Yet having spent most of her life in the country, should she not share in that fervour?
That night her bed seemed to roll from side to side along with her thoughts, and sleep refused to come. Only thoughts of seeing Otto and her family again gave her any comfort. She looked at her black box but knew her precious oboe was safer cocooned in its case. Playing it was unthinkable for the time being, though she hoped she would be able to do so again soon.
The nervous energy and anxiety eventually subsided, and sleep overcame her. When she opened her eyes and looked at her watch, it was seven thirty in the morning.
She covered herself and went on deck to see if any land was in sight, but there was none. Only one other man had taken to the deck, and he was out of earshot. A crewmember approached and stopped in front of her.
‘Heil Hitler, madam. Breakfast is now being served in the dining room.’
She raised her hand. ‘Heil Hitler. I will be there in a minute. Thank you.’ The salutation she had almost forgotten came back to her with ease and a measure of fear. She would soon get used to it of course, and learn not to think about it, yet it symbolized the regime. Failure to give the salute had its consequences.
After breakfast she returned to her cabin. She had only been there a few minutes when she heard a long blast of the ship’s horn. She went out on deck once more and saw the battleship Scharnhorst glide past at speed and at close range. Then like a school of porpoises, the Unterseeboot fleet described a regular pattern at the battleship’s stern.
The Columbus dropped speed to permit the convoy to pass. Each U-boat had a white ensign bearing the swastika. The power of the German navy was on display, though of course, that would only be a fraction of the force. Where could it be heading? To challenge the British Empire, straining as all its colonies fought to break free from colonialism, perhaps. Would Britain be Germany’s ally as decades of colonial history dissolved? It seemed that the world order was being shaken up with no thought for how the chips would eventually fall.
Four hours later the Columbus slowed down. Two tugboats helped her to the quay. Hilda returned on deck to see Hamburg reappear, that friendly city which had taken her to its heart all those years ago. Everywhere she looked, she saw official cars and men in military or naval uniform. There were few women; she assumed they were continuing their domestic duties.
The ship tied up and she exchanged pounds for Deutschmarks before disembarking, in order to pay for a taxi to the family home. She opened the front door and smelt fustiness, dryness too, and the familiar vague scent of the Richter household. She opened the shutters in the sitting room, then the windows in the kitchen and bathroom. This was truly her home.
She looked in the kitchen cupboards. It seemed Otto had cleared out all the tinned fruit and most of the tinned fish and meat. She did discover one tin of corned beef, but there were no vegetables and no milk. She needed to replenish the larder, and so she set off for the local shops.
People recognised her at the butchers and the dairy shop; they inquired about her family and said they were pleased to see her again, making her feel welcome. She was not far from Karl’s dental practice. Her shoulders drooped under the weight of two heavy baskets as she made for his clinic.
Renate was in the reception area, sitting with her back to the door, writing notes. Hilda approached the desk and put her bags down on the floor.
‘I have a dreadful toothache. I need to see the dentist, immediately,’ she said in her best Hanoverian accent, smiling broadly.
‘I’ll be with you in a—’ Renate spun round in her chair. ‘Hilda!’
Renate came from behind the desk and gave her a long hug. When she moved back, Hilda saw her eyes filled with tears.
‘Whatever’s the matter, Renate?’
‘It’s Karl.’
‘Karl? What happened?’
‘He has been ordered to report to the army and serve as a dentist to the troops. I have no idea where he is at present.’
‘Oh dear, what is life coming to? What’s happening here? How are you managing?’
Renate gave a sigh and shrugged her shoulders. ‘You will remember Anton Huber?’
‘Yes, he retired some time ago. I do remember him.’
‘He was asked to take over here, against his better judgement I’d say. His eyesight is not as it once was, nor does he have a steady hand. But Hilda, that’s unimportant – no more than what is happening everywhere.’ She paused and took a gulp of breath. ‘You know Karl is forty-eight. At the age of fifty, he would be set for lighter work, but I am scared that when the war starts he will be in the forefront of battle. It really frightens me.’
Pins and needles ran through Hilda’s body. ‘You said when the war starts. Will it? And when?’
‘It certainly will. No one can stop it now, I am sure. However, when? It depends. We are taking over countries, which have German minorities. If any of these countries react, it could be the flashpoint. Remember 1914?’
Hilda raised her eyebrows. ‘I certainly do. How could I forget?’
Renate’s eyes were full of pain. However, one more question filled Hilda’s mind. ‘And Otto, have you seen him recently?’
‘Yes, not so long ago. You will not recognise him. He has grown. All that food and exercise he is getting at Marburg. But tell me, when did you arrive?’
‘This morning. I’ve been shopping and thought I’d come here to surprise you. However, you have shocked me. I do hope you will see Karl again soon.’
Renate’s sigh seemed to come from the depths of her lungs. ‘You will not get settled in a day. Why don’t you come over to me this evening for a meal? Shall we say, seven p.m.?’
‘That’s very kind of you, Renate.’
Hilda walked home seeing military uniforms and vehicles pass on both sides. Was this a permanent feature now? It was like a boil expanding all the time. When would it erupt, and when it did, who would it affect?
She had no sooner opened the door than the telephone rang. She put her shopping down in the hall and lifted the receiver.
‘Hello.’
‘Welcome home. Eicke here, I hope the crossing was not rough. Anyway you have arrived safely. I want you at my office at ten a.m. tomorrow, Gestapo Headquarters. Come smartly dressed. I look forward to seeing you once more. I’m pleased you returned promptly.’
‘Thank you, Herr Eicke. I… look forward to our meeting again too.’
She replaced the receiver but held on to the phone to steady herself. Only a couple of days ago she had met with Thornton, and now she was to encounter her German spymaster again. Was she cut out to be a spy? Espionage, being a double agent – it was so far from any turn her life had taken before. She recalled the error she had made regarding the Browns coming from London. Eicke was a professional interrogator, far more likely to trip her up. The one thing she must not forget was that here she was a spy for Germany; it was vital that she did not mix up her roles in any way.
She chose to walk to her morning meeting with Eicke. The streets had not changed, and she knew every inch of the way. Only the atmosphere, which pervaded the city, was different. Many lampposts hung draped flags; even the square where she had brought Otto in his pram on sunny afternoons many years ago had been marked out for troops to drill to the rhythm of military brass bands. The public was required to support these highly trained men. There was no doubt that they looked extremely smart, and they certainly made an impact on everyone.