And if I was pregnant, she thought, I could never leave.
She looked at her mother, wondering if she dared ask a question that – on any other day – would probably get her slapped. But her mother had been open with her – disconcertingly open with her – after she’d started making her plans…
“Mother,” she said. “Do you ever regret marrying father?”
Her mother’s lips thinned, just for a second. “Marriage is… different to being a daughter,” she said, finally. “This morning, you are a daughter; tomorrow morning, you will be a wife.”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” Gudrun said.
“Marriage… is two people learning to live and work together,” her mother said. “It has its ups and downs. We have fought, sometimes quite badly, over everything from the household budget to your education. And yet… I have learned to be supportive of him and he has learned to be supportive of me. Gudrun… you’ll find you won’t truly know your husband until you have spent years with him, sharing his life.”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t regret it. I have four lovely children and a husband who does his very best for them – and me. There are worse husbands out there, but few better ones. Your father is a good man.”
Gudrun cocked her head. “Even if he did have shouting matches with Kurt?”
“That’s what happens when a young boy grows into a man,” her mother said. “He starts clashing against the older man in the house.”
She smiled, rather tiredly. “The sooner Kurt gets married, the better.”
“I’ll see if I can find anyone who might be interested,” Gudrun said. “I owe him that much, I think.”
She finished dressing and checked her watch, then allowed her mother to lead her out of the door and down towards the wedding chamber. It was bare, save for a single desk placed at the rear of the room. A man stood behind it, wearing the drab uniform of a bureaucrat; he gave her a single look, then nodded to himself as she entered the room. There was nothing obviously wrong with her, Gudrun guessed. It would have been a different story if she’d had dark skin or anything else that marked her out as – perhaps – not being racially pure.
“Gudrun,” her father said, as he stepped into the chamber. He held a brown envelope in one hand. “Are you ready?”
“Yes, father,” Gudrun said.
She looked back as Horst entered the room, flanked by Kurt, Johan and Siegfried. Horst wore a simple Heer uniform without any rank badges, very unlike the black dress uniform he would have worn as an SS stormtrooper – as Konrad would have worn, if things had gone differently. She felt a sudden stab of guilt, as if she was betraying his memory, even though she knew it was absurd. Konrad wouldn’t have wanted her to spend the rest of her life alone, no matter what else happened. And yet…
Kurt and Johan wore their uniforms, she noted, while Siegfried wore a simple black suit that had been tailored to fit him. He hadn’t yet entered his final growth spurt, but he was already tall and muscular for his age. He’d thrown a colossal fit when his father had banned him from joining the boxing club and then sulked for days before finally subsiding. Gudrun hoped that he hadn’t said anything nasty to Horst. But then, Kurt would have walloped him if he had. Horst was alone, his family on the far side of the border. And there was no way to know if they were even alive.
“I love you,” she mouthed.
“I love you too,” Horst mouthed back.
Siegfried made gagging motions, which stopped abruptly when their father turned his gaze on him. Gudrun allowed herself a moment of relief, then looked at her father, wondering just what thoughts were going through his head. His little girl was getting married, leaving the family home for the last time. Gudrun hadn’t set foot in her home for nearly a month, now, but it hardly mattered. Her relationship with her father would never be the same again.
Her father cleared his throat. “Shall we begin?”
The register looked up at them as they approached the table. Up close, he had a bland featureless face that seemed completely unremarkable. His eyes flickered over Horst, then moved to Gudrun. Her father put the brown envelope on the desk; the register opened it with a knife, then pulled out the documents and checked them, one by one. Gudrun felt her heart beginning to race as time seemed to slow down, even though she knew it was an illusion. The slightest mistake with the paperwork would be enough to get the ceremony cancelled, at least until the mistake could be sorted out…
He’d have to be an idiot to say no now, she thought, with a flicker of amusement. Doesn’t he know who we are?
“Everything appears to be in order,” the register said, finally. He looked at Horst. “Your documentation is very limited.”
“That was covered when we obtained the marriage certificate,” Horst said, flatly. “The original copies of my documents – my file – are in the east.”
The register nodded. “Understood,” he said. “And now…”
He spoke casually, almost as if he were bored. “This ceremony will make you husband and wife in the eyes of the Reich,” he said. “From the moment you sign the documents and take the marriage certificate, you will be married, whatever ceremony you plan to hold afterwards.”
Gudrun nodded. This was it, the end of her life as a daughter, the start of her life as a wife…
“I must ask you both to swear, now, that you carry no taint of non-Aryan blood within you,” the register said. “Do you swear?”
“I swear,” Horst said.
Gudrun nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She had a pure-perfect record from the Race Classification Bureau, one she’d had written out for her when she started planning to marry Konrad. And there was a copy in front of the register. He knew they were both pureblood Germans. There was no need to demand a final oath in front of so many witnesses. And yet, there was no point in making a fuss.
“I swear,” she said, finally.
The register pulled three certificates out of a folder on his desk, their names and details already filled in. Gudrun took the first one and read it carefully, checking every last detail, before taking a pen and signing her name at the bottom. She passed it to Horst, then read and signed the remaining two certificates. Her father, her guardian, was the last person to sign his name. Without his signature, it wouldn’t be valid.
“You are now husband and wife,” the register said. His tone hadn’t changed at all. “I wish you both a long and happy marriage.”
Gudrun fought down the urge to giggle, then turned to Horst and lifted her lips, allowing him to kiss her gently. She heard Siegfried say something rude behind them, then grunt in pain, but she didn’t care. Horst held her for a long moment, then released her, his eyes shining with… something. They were married now. Their lives had just been bound together, for better or worse… her emotions were a mess. Part of her was tempted, far too tempted, just to start crying.
Her father paid the Registrar, then marched her family out of the room. Gudrun followed, holding Horst’s hand as they walked into the small dining room. There wasn’t much to eat – Gudrun was damned if she was feasting while much of the population was starving – but there were two bottles of expensive wine and some sweets from France. It wasn’t how she’d envisaged her wedding, when she’d thought about what she’d wanted as a young girl, yet the lack of ceremony didn’t matter. All that mattered was that they were together.