Выбрать главу

Miriam pointed to Detta's modest suitcases. 'You don't seem to have brought much to wear. Never mind, we'll have a glass of bubbly and then go to Horn's. Horn's have the most fashionable things.'

'Thanks, but I don't have that much money. Mother says I should go to Brenninkmeyer's if I need anything.'

'Oh, we won't need money at Horn's. They send the bills to Herr Schott. He's Grandfather's authorized signatory. He's always complaining I spend too much, but he has strict orders to settle it all, right up to the last minute.' Miriam disappeared. Detta was already picturing herself in an elegant dress. Tom would be so surprised to see how the girl of last year had blossomed. She could hardly wait.

'What do you mean, the last minute?' she called through the open kitchen door.

'Grandfather's finally moving the bank to Portugal. The family's left already. I'm following soon. A man from the Ministry of Economic Affairs is taking over this apartment. So it'll be goodbye Horn. Braun and all the other divine fashion houses. Heaven knows what kind of shops they have in Lisbon.' A loud pop. Miriam emerged from the kitchen with an opened bottle of Taittinger and two glasses.

Detta pointed to a silver-framed photograph. It showed Lieutenant HansGeorg von Aichborn on horseback. And he has to be away in Trakehnen just now,' she lamented.

'He'll be back next week,' Miriam consoled her.

'You and Hans-Georg — do you see each other often?'

Miriam poured the champagne. 'Cheers, little one. Not quite so often now he's insisting he wants to marry me.'

'Don't you want to marry him, then?'

The regimental adjutant came to see me the other day. Major Count von Stuckwitz. Your brother would have to resign his commission if we married. The major told me so straight out.'

'What nonsense,' said Detta, shaking her head. 'Little Prince Ratibor married a Fraulein Schulz. His friends formed a guard of honour with their drawn swords outside the church. Snobbery is a thing of the past.' She sipped her champagne. It tickled her nose.

Miriam gave her a thin smile. A Fraulein Schulz is more acceptable these days than a Fraulein Goldberg.'

'What do you mean? You're beautiful, rich, well educated, amazingly chic and you can outshine anyone, not just at the regimental ball either.'

'Thanks for the compliment. But Jews are undesirable as wives for officers in the new German army. Don't be shocked, my dear, Georgie and I have no end of fun in bed. He confuses that with love, so he thinks he has to make our affair legitimate at the altar. If he were there beside the Tejo he'd be longing for Potsdam and the 'von Neun' regiment, and in the end he'd blame me. Anyway, I've no intention of playing the mother and housewife. Cheers.' Miriam drained her glass in a single draught. 'Come on, let's go and plunder Horn's,' she cried, apparently without a care in the world. But Detta sensed the depth of her hurt.

They raced along Heerstrasse in the open BMW, in the direction of the city. A long convoy of trucks came towards them. 'Building materials for the Olympic stadium.' Miriam explained. 'Next year's games are to outshine any that have gone before. Georgie and his friend Stubbendorf are already training their horses like mad for the three-day eventing.'

The atmosphere at Horn's was muted. Elegant, cool ladies were having the latest models shown to them. Young salesgirls hurried silently to and fro. The directrice was with a stout customer, recommending a loosely draped ensemble. 'Paris is showing fluid lines this season.'

'It looks all baggy,' the customer objected.

'I'll be happy to show you something close-fitting. If you'd just excuse me for a moment, madam?' Smiling, the directrice walked towards the two young visitors. 'Fraulein Goldberg, how kind of you to honour us like this!'

'Frau Mohr, my friend Henriette von Aichborn urgently needs something to wear.'

'Of course, ladies. What did you have in mind, Fraulein von Aichborn?'

'Something really chic for the afternoon that could go on into the evening,' Detta said hastily. She wanted all her weapons ready to hand in case her airman asked her out to dinner.

'We can't always find the time we need to change. can we?' said Frau Mohr.

'Where, may I ask, is my dress?' The stout customer was shooting poisonous glances at Miriam. 'Fancy keeping a person waiting on account of a Jewish tramp!'

'Did you hear what she said, Miriam?' Detta was outraged.

The directrice shrugged, and said quietly. 'We're getting a new type of customer these days. Her husband is some kind of big noise in the Party.'

'I do understand your impatience, my dear People's Comrade,' Miriam said to the woman, sweet as sugar. 'But perhaps the trainee is having difficulty finding something in your amazing size.'

Frau Mohr discreetly separated the combatants. 'Perhaps you young ladies would like to go into the small salon? Giselle has a figure like Fraulein von Aichborn's. She'll show you a selection.'

'Why didn't you biff the woman?' asked Detta furiously. 'She deserved it.'

'On no account let anyone provoke you, that's what Grandfather has always told us. Oh, Giselle, there you are! No, not yellow polka dots for my friend. Could you show us something in a plain colour? When are you seeing your airman?'

'When we leave here. He doesn't know I'm coming. I want to surprise him. I do hope he'll be at home.'

'Wouldn't it be better to warn him first?'

'Why?'

Miriam did not answer, but called, 'Yes, the blue silk is perfect. Giselle, please help Fraulein von Aichborn into it.'

Hat, handbag and shoes completed the picture of an elegant young lady. Elated, the two of them left the fashion house after Miriam had tried on an ocelot fur. 'No, bad for Herr Schott's blood pressure and too warm for Lisbon,' she decided. 'Where does your airman live?'

Detta consulted her little notebook. In Nestorstrasse. Could you drop me just outside the door?'

A surprise. I know.' Stepping on the gas, Miriam drove down the Kurfiirstendamm to the corner of Nestorstrasse. 'Bring him along this evening. It's my farewell party.'

A farewell party? Why?'

In reply, Miriam made an irritated gesture that embraced the entire Kurftirstendamm, its elegant pedestrians and luxurious shops. 'Good luck with your airman, my dear.' The car roared away.

Detta went into the building. As the lift carried her up she checked herself in the mirror to make sure the seams of her stockings were straight, smoothed down her new dress, and tipped her hat slightly to one side. Hm, not bad. But suppose he wasn't at home?

He was, and he looked even better than a year ago. What a man, she rejoiced! It took him a moment to recognize her. 'Detta, how nice. I had no idea you were in Berlin. Do come in. You're really grown-up now.' He closed the door behind her.

The living room was furnished in the modern style. There were photographs of aircraft hanging on the walls, and a propeller dangling over the kitchen doorway.

'Sit down. Ulli will be here in a moment. She'll be so pleased to meet you.'

'Ulli?' A dreadful foreboding came over her.

'Ulrike Spielhagen. Girl Friday to the director of Lufthansa, my new boss. We're getting married next week. I'll make some tea.'

Detta was paralysed. 'You must come to our wedding,' she heard him say from the kitchen. 'Do you like Leibnitz biscuits? I'm afraid that's all I have. The fact is, I'm hardly ever at home. Our chief pilot is instructing me on the JU 52 at the moment. It's a three-engined plane. I'm going to be second pilot on the Tromso run to start with.' He brought a tray with a teapot and cups. 'Will you be mother. as the English say?'

She poured the tea. Inside, she had turned to ice. She couldn't think, was incapable of reacting, just stood listlessly outside herself and listened with detachment to Fraulein Henriette von Aichborn making polite conversation. 'Lapsang Souchong, my favourite tea. I love that smoky aroma.'