“They fight with guns,” Horst said. He gave her a long look. “All other things being equal, Gudrun, a man will always be stronger than a woman.”
Gudrun scowled. “But if you taught me how to fight, their strength might not be a problem,” she argued. “And I do need to know.”
“I can try,” Horst said. “But it will hurt. It will hurt a lot.”
“Thank you,” Gudrun said.
She impulsively leaned forward and kissed him, gently. Horst started in surprise, then kissed her back, his hands reaching out to hold her tightly. Gudrun pulled back for a second, surprised at the sudden rush of feeling. She’d survived another incident that could easily have ended her life, but this was different. Horst had chosen to take a stand, rather than betray them, and she couldn’t help feeling a rush of affection. She kissed him again, harder this time. His hands started to slip around to her breasts as his kisses became more passionate; she wrapped her arms around him and felt the strong muscles hidden under his clothes. No wonder he’d always worn loose clothes. The Hitler Youth might insist that boys spent most of their time engaged in healthy outdoors exercise, but Horst was far more muscular than Sven or Leopold…
“We shouldn’t go any further,” Horst said, pulling back. “Not here.”
Gudrun looked around and flushed with embarrassment. There were only a handful of cars in the road, but anyone passing by could see them making out in the car. Maybe they’d even call the police. That would be embarrassing. Horst gave her a final kiss, then let go of her and restarted the engine. They drove back to her house in silence.
“My father might kill me as soon as I walk in the door,” Gudrun said, slowly. She knew her father would be furious and, if she’d been missing for a day, he would have had plenty of time to grow angrier. Her mother probably wouldn’t be able to calm him down. “But if he doesn’t kill me…”
“He won’t,” Horst said, as he turned the corner and drove towards the house. “I’ll see you at university, tomorrow.”
“If I’m allowed out of the house,” Gudrun said, although she had no intention of letting her father stop her. The butterflies in her stomach might be nasty, but there were worse things to endure than parental disapproval. “I might have to tell him we’re courting.”
“I would be happy to court you,” Horst said. He held up a hand. “But, for the moment, we have to be careful. I’m not the only agent at the university.”
Gudrun nodded, then opened the door as soon as the car came to a stop. She fumbled for her keys as she walked towards the door, but it opened before she could find them. Her father was standing there, looking furious. The butterflies in Gudrun’s stomach mated and produced babies. Her father hadn’t been so angry since Siegfried had mocked Konrad’s injuries to Gudrun’s face.
“Get inside,” he snapped. “Now!”
“Yes, father,” Gudrun said.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Berlin, Germany
13 August 1985
It was hard, so hard, for Herman to remain calm. He knew precisely what had happened to his daughter, even before he’d managed to get a glimpse of her file at the station. Even if she hadn’t been marked as anyone special, even if she’d only been in the wrong place at the wrong time, she would be processed like any other prisoner. He’d administered the procedure himself, countless times. His fists clenched in helpless rage as recalled forcing prisoners to strip, both to make sure they weren’t carrying anything and to ensure they knew they were no longer the masters of their own destiny. Gudrun… how could she put herself in such danger?
She stood in front of him, breathing hard. Her clothes looked badly rumpled; her hair hung down in clumps, suggesting she hadn’t been allowed to shower while she’d been in the prison cell. She’d probably been left naked too – and, if they’d been feeling malicious, shoved in with a handful of tougher female prisoners. What had she been thinking? Didn’t she know what could happen to her? She could have vanished into the penal system and never been seen again. Even if she’d been exiled, as a young German lady of pure bloodline, she would still have had a very hard time of it.
He honestly didn’t know what to say, let alone do. Boys were easy to raise; it was simply a matter of letting them run free, combined with firm boundaries and strict discipline. But girls? His sisters had been good little housewives, obedient to their parents and then to their husbands. Gudrun… it had been a mistake, he was sure now, to allow her to go to the university. It had given her all the wrong ideas. He wished, now, that he’d forbidden her to sit the exams, let alone remain as a student. It would have been simple enough to find her a suitable man and ensure she married him. Now…
Gudrun looked at him, her face a strange mixture of defiance and fear. He’d seen it before on countless prisoners, mostly males; prisoners who weren’t broken, but unsure of themselves enough to remain quiet rather than risk compromising themselves. It was easy to see her grandmother in her face, the mixture of a strong chin and long blonde hair… Herman wished, suddenly, that his mother had remained alive. She would have known what to say.
And she never put up with any nonsense either, he thought, feeling a twinge of pain. Why had his mother died while Grandpa Frank, the drunken old bastard, survived? She would have taken Gudrun under her wing if I’d asked.
Gudrun broke the silence, finally. “Where’s mother?”
“Out,” Herman growled.
He glowered at her until she lowered her eyes. His entire world seemed to be shifting around him and he didn’t like it. His daughter was arrested and then his wife went out onto the streets with a gaggle of other housewives, bringing the entire city to a halt. He’d get an earful from the Captain tomorrow, he was sure, while the other policemen jeered at him for being unable to control his wife. But what was he supposed to do? Handcuff her to the kitchen stove? Beat her like a child? Adelinde would cut his throat the moment he fell asleep or poison his food. She was too proud to forgive him for such a humiliation.
“Tell me,” he said, as gently as he could. “What were you thinking?”
Gudrun raised her eyes. “I was thinking that I don’t want to be scared anymore.”
Herman blinked in surprise. “And you thought being arrested would keep you from being scared?”
“I didn’t know I would be arrested,” Gudrun said.
“Strikes are illegal,” Herman pointed out, coldly. That had changed, if the radio broadcast was accurate, but Gudrun had still gone to the scene of a crime. “You could be arrested merely for supporting the strikers. Several of your fellow students died supporting the strikers.”
Gudrun winced. She hadn’t known that, Herman realised. The student who’d brought her home – and damn the government for refusing to allow him to collect his daughter – hadn’t told her anything. No doubt he’d kept his mouth firmly shut, rather than deal with a torrent of female emotion. Young men tended to be cowards that way.
“You did something very stupid,” Herman told her, flatly. “I don’t know what they’re teaching you at the university, but defying the government can be very dangerous.”
Gudrun tilted her head, defiantly. She did look like her grandmother. “Someone has to take a stand.”
“But not you,” Herman snapped. “Did it occur to you that your family could have been destroyed? Your older brother’s career would come to an end, your younger brothers would be under permanent suspicion, your father would lose his job… do you really imagine that the government would not have hesitated to make an example out of all of us?”