“It would have happened anyway,” Horst said. He let go of her neck and walked around the chair, kneeling in front of her. “The Reich was heading for a fall long before you were born.”
Gudrun swallowed. She found it hard to imagine what it had been like in 1944, when the Reich and the British Empire had finally signed a truce. Or in 1940-41, when panzers had rolled into France and Russia. Or even in 1919, when Germany had been unfairly blamed and penalised for all the woes of the world. Her history teachers had told her that Germany had been betrayed, from within and without, but now… the Reich might have built a towering edifice, yet they’d built on very shaky ground.
“Kruger said as much,” she said. “But I don’t believe it.”
Horst reached out and took her hands, holding them gently in his. “Gudrun,” he said, very quietly. “Gudrun… will you marry me?”
Gudrun stared at him, feeling her heart starting to race. A flurry of conflicting feelings ran through her mind; delight, fear, relief, terror… marriage would change her life, no matter who or what she was. It would be a change for the better and a change for the worse. She would be expected to be a mother as well as a politician – or, perhaps, a mother instead of a politician. It was hard to imagine staying at home – or within the restrictive circle of other married women – and preparing dinner for the moment Horst came home from work. Her life had expanded too far, too fast, for her to step back into a traditional role.
Horst was looking back at her, his blue eyes… vulnerable. It was a surprise. She’d never seen him vulnerable before, not when he’d confessed the truth or even when they’d slept together for the first time. But then, perhaps she wasn’t his first. Girls might be expected to remain virginal before marriage – or at least maintain a convincing pretence that they’d only ever had premarital sex with their future husband – but boys had far more latitude. Sex was one thing, marriage – to a boy – was quite another.
She hesitated, trying to think of an answer. A year ago, if they had been in a relationship, she would have answered yes without hesitation. Horst would have been a great catch, an up and coming SS officer… she would have been his wife, borne his children and shared his life, taking a payout from the government for every single child she brought into the world. But now… her life had changed too much. She couldn’t go back to where she’d been, before the uprising.
“I won’t try to stop you from being a politician,” Horst said, quietly. She wondered, suddenly, just what had happened to his remaining family. The SS wouldn’t have let them live if they knew Horst had betrayed them. “I understand you’ll want to continue being… being a councillor. There’s no need to have children.”
Gudrun swallowed. She did want children, one day. Most married women had their first child within a year or two of the wedding, if they weren’t already pregnant when they marched to the altar. Two little boys, perhaps; or two sweet little girls. She didn’t want more than two children…
…But that wasn’t the concern, was it? She was honest enough to admit the truth, if only to herself. Girls practically defined themselves as daughters, then wives. Or society made that definition for them. By marrying Horst, she would give up the independence she had won, at least in the eyes of the world. Her father hadn’t attempted to pull her back to the house, after the uprising, and she had no idea what would have happened if he’d tried. But by marrying Horst, she might be expected to resign…
…And if he changed his mind, if he decided he wanted her to stay at home, the law would be on his side.
And if I have children, she thought, taking care of them is going to consume my time.
“It won’t be easy,” Gudrun warned. “You’ll have to get used to the idea of having a politician for a wife.”
“It could be worse,” Horst said.
Gudrun shrugged. Her mother had pointed out, in some detail, that men rarely liked it when girls beat them, even in something as minor as a maths competition. She’d wondered, at the time, if the segregated school system – there had only been a handful of mixed-sex classes after she’d turned twelve – was designed to keep the boys from feeling inferior to the girls, rather than the other way around. Her mother had even advised Gudrun to hide her intelligence, just in case it provoked resentment. A teenage boy could be ignored…
…But a grown man – and a husband – could not.
Horst looked up at her. “I know it won’t be easy,” he said. “Not for either of us. But I am prepared to accept whatever it brings.”
Gudrun felt touched. She knew she wasn’t pregnant. Horst could have walked away, without consequences. And, with a little ingenuity, she could probably have avoided consequences for her too. If, of course, she decided to have another relationship. Instead, he’d approached her father and gained his permission to take the next step. She had to admit it, even if it had taken him several days to work up the nerve to speak to her.
And we may be dead in a month, she thought. And if that happens, it won’t matter if we are married or not.
She sucked in her breath. The reports made it clear that the SS was inching forward, even if every last building was taken and retaken time and time again before it was finally cleared. They would hardly be the only couple getting married quickly – she’d heard from two of her friends who were trying the knot, just so they could live with their partners before the city fell. If, of course, the city did fall.
And if it doesn’t, she told herself, we will just have to live with it.
She leaned forward, pulling him to his feet. He was big, taller and stronger than her, yet he’d never made her feel unsafe. Indeed, she hadn’t been wary of him even after he’d confessed the truth. Even when they’d argued, she’d never feared that he would hit her, beating her into submission like far too many wives. And that, perhaps, was all the answer she really needed.
“I will,” she said, meeting his eyes. A sudden surge of energy blazed through her as his eyes stared back at her. “I will marry you.”
Horst kissed her, pulling her into a tight hug. Gudrun wrapped her arms around him, kissing him back with all the intensity she could muster. His hands pulled at her dress, bunching it up around her waist as he fumbled with her panties; she undid his trousers and allowed them to fall to the floor as he half-pushed her towards the bed. She leaned back, allowing herself to land neatly on the bed, then pulled him down on top of her…
And then there was nothing in her world, apart from him.
Horst lay on the bed afterwards, feeling tired and yet almost deliriously happy at the same time. Gudrun lay next to him, her eyes closed; her deep even breathing was enough to tell him that she was sleeping properly. She’d had too many nightmares over the last few days, nightmares that had jerked her awake time and time again. Horst knew she wouldn’t be the only one – some of his bunkmates had had nightmares during training – but she had more reasons than most to feel guilty.
The Reich was definitely heading for a fall, Horst thought. But without her, things might have been very different.
He doubted, deep inside, that they would have been peaceful. The SS was too strong, too determined to maintain its perfect state. Mass protests, peaceful or not, would have been broken up, with machine gun fire if necessary. He’d watched, helplessly, as dozens of protesters had died… it would have been far worse, he was sure, if Gudrun hadn’t been involved. But there was no way to know.