‘What could have stopped it, though?’ Hilda asked. ‘I don’t think anyone could. That is the greatest shame.’
‘I did not know that Renate was Jewish.’
‘Renate? She wasn’t Jewish,’ Hilda responded abruptly. ‘Her grandfather was, but two generations ago, two Lutheran generations at that. Renate married Karl in the Lutheran Church here in Hamburg,’ Hilda replied.
‘That’s not how Eicke’s men saw it. Renate was accused of not wearing the yellow star.’
‘Of course, she wouldn’t wear it. She was not Jewish!’ Her voice rose, alarming the dog and bringing tears to the little boy’s eyes.
Martha picked up her son and comforted him, ordering the dog to return to its basket. ‘But her grandfather was Jewish and that to Eicke meant a direct line,’ she said sadly. ‘She was taken out of her house one afternoon in full view. Many of us saw her taken away. I have never seen her since. That was in 1942, August. But I think we both know what her fate was.’
Hilda lifted her cup from the table and took a drink. She nodded. There was no need to respond.
‘Muggi, come here,’ Martha said eventually.
She drew the dog closer to her. She rubbed its ears and patted its back. Its tail began to wag. Hilda smiled at the canine relationship which existed. Hilda then laid her hand over Martha’s.
‘My son dead, my sister-in-law gassed,’ she said bleakly. ‘You wouldn’t know what became of Karl, would you?’
‘Are you sure you really want to know?’
‘Now I suspect the worst. Tell me.’
Martha took a step towards her and rested a hand on her shoulder. ‘Of course it’s hearsay. Everything is hearsay.’
‘No smoke without fire, isn’t that what they say? If it’s hearsay in the present situation, it will contain more than a grain of truth. Truth is hearsay too.’
Martha looked up at a cobweb on the ceiling and followed the trail to the spider which continued its weaving, oblivious to the mayhem that seemed to have descended on the world.
Martha spoke slowly. ‘Karl was with the medical corps, a dentist, of course.’
‘Yes, that is true.’
‘He was with Field Marshal Rommel in Africa. From Libya, in 1941 they made great strides through to Tobruk. However, the following year they ran out of supplies and fuel. They dug themselves in and laid mines to thwart General Montgomery’s advance. Rommel’s orders from Hitler were to stand firm to the end.’
‘To the end? Karl was not a fighting man. Maybe he’s a prisoner?’
Martha smiled as if that might have been possible, then looked down at the dog and continued. ‘The Field Marshal took ill and returned to Germany. However, with such a lack of resources, the German troops knew the war in North Africa was lost. Moscow in December ’41, November ’42 in North Africa: two major defeats. Most people knew Hitler was no longer invincible, but no one dared say that in public. The Afrika Korps and the 4th Army in Moscow were both lost, but Hitler was refusing to accept it. He was livid, we heard. Then the British broke through and secured the territory along the north Mediterranean coast.’
‘Yes, it was a turning point,’ Hilda agreed.
‘Karl was killed – not taking out teeth… but… but… he was blown up by a mine.’
Hilda’s mouth fell open. She felt a momentary stab of pain, nothing at all with what Karl must have suffered.
Martha bent down and lifted up her young son. She ran her fingers through his golden locks. ‘Some people around here wondered whether he could have avoided it if he had chosen to – indeed his brother was already dead and perhaps he had heard his wife had been taken into custody for being a Jewess. Maybe he saw death as preferable. All we know is that one of our own mines in the desert killed him. I have no reason to doubt the story. I am sorry, Hilda.’
Unlucky or deliberate, it did not matter. Karl, like Renate and Otto, would never come home. She now had no family left. She had never felt so alone. ‘What a day it has been,’ she said desolately. In the back of her mind, she had been afraid that this was exactly what she would find, but if anything that made it worse. The ray of hope, which had buoyed her up since her arrival in Hamburg, had extinguished.
Muggi’s eyes looked up at her expressively. He raised his paw and placed it on her lap. He seemed to know her tears were about to fall, and they did.
It was late in the afternoon, after they had exhausted their memories, that she made her decision. She left Martha with a supply of tinned meat and the remainder of the biscuits and tinned fruit.
Germany had nothing to offer her any more. Hamburg was no longer the city she had known and loved. The culture was gone, all the people she knew too; the city had a long way to go to resurrect itself and she saw no part for her in that process. She made her way back to the airport. A passing American jeep stopped and gave her a lift; the driver had obviously taken pity on her, assuming she was a German widow.
‘So you’re not German after all,’ he said when she thanked him for the lift and told him where she was going.
‘No. I have no home. I’m Scottish but that isn’t home any more, either.’
He took his eye off the road and looked at her sideways. ‘Stateless then?’
She turned to him and smiled. ‘Yes, I suppose so,’ she said as the stench of Hamburg cleared out of her lungs.
She found a seat on a plane heading to Northolt later that night. The pilot was Polish, and he asked no questions. His mind must have been as full of grief as hers, as Russia made its grim presence felt in his homeland. Darkness fell, and the North Sea was as black as the inky sky. Somehow, it seemed to make the flight back longer. Time moved slower, and on that flight she had much to contemplate.
The American contingent at the hut recognised Hilda on her return, but she chose not to socialize with them. She went straight to bed and cried until she slept. Her pillow was damp with tears when she woke the following morning.
‘Where to this morning, ma’am? We’re taking a platoon of boys home to the United States today. Fancy joining them?’ asked one of the aviators.
The unexpected offer made her smile. A pity it had come at the wrong time. ‘I’m certainly tempted, but a lift to the nearest bus stop will do. I’ll be heading back to the city once more,’ she replied quickly before she allowed herself to reconsider his proposition seriously. A new life in America was in truth appealing, but she needed to find a purpose in life once again, and that would be more difficult in an unfamiliar country where she knew no one at all. Anyway, she could not leave her black box behind.
When she arrived back at the MI6 offices, Dynes was at his desk. This time Thornton was not around. She was not told where he was.
‘It’s a pity Thornton is away,’ said Dynes. ‘I’m sure he’d want to discuss things with you. But I am privy to these matters anyway.’
The statement bewildered her. What further use was she to MI6? Unless… ‘You mean my oboe?’
‘Your oboe? What about it?’
‘I asked Mr Thornton if I might leave it here while I was in Hamburg.’ She pointed to the tall cabinet. ‘If you open that cabinet, you will find it.’
Dynes found the stepladder and mounted it at Hilda’s request. ‘Ah, that black case again. I presume that’s it.’
‘I’m pleased to see it is just as I left it.’
Dynes handed over the instrument. She tapped the box with a loving touch. ‘My comfort box,’ she said.
‘If you’re offering a recital, I’m afraid I must decline this morning. I have some news for you.’