‘Not long after that your father had another turn and began to drink again. I was pregnant and, in one of his darker moments, he lashed out at me and I lost the baby. He didn’t know what he had done. He often didn’t remember the rages he found himself in or what he did during them. When he realised what had happened, he was distraught and pleaded with me to forgive him. I told him I did, but it was the beginning of the end for us.’
I stopped walking and stood in front of my mother, struggling not to cry. ‘Mutti, I’m so sorry. I didn’t bring you here to remember sad times. I never wanted to upset you. I thought the walk would make you feel better.’
‘No,’ my mother said, shaking her head, ‘sometimes it’s good to remember, just little moments, and I’m happy I can share them with you.’ She placed a gloved hand on my cheek, the worn leather soft on my skin. ‘Thank God in Heaven I still have you, Charlotte Elisabeth. You are a joy to me. I might not tell you often enough, but I love you.’ Drawing me into an embrace, she kissed my forehead.
I couldn’t believe what I had heard. I had waited so long to hear those words. I felt the tears well up inside of me but I didn’t want to ruin the moment, so I swallowed them down. ‘I love you too, Mutti,’ I whispered and squeezed her tightly as I planted a kiss on her cheek.
‘Oof,’ said Mutti. ‘Not so tight.’
I let go quickly and we started laughing.
‘Look,’ I said, pointing to a tree by the edge of the stream. ‘The blossoms have started.’ I pulled out my camera and adjusted the settings to take a photo of the clusters of delicate pink blooms against the bare, dark branches. Mutti waited patiently while I concentrated on finding the best position to take the perfect photograph.
When we continued walking, my mother pointed out potential landscapes for me. I humoured her and set about photographing them. We discovered the best spot while standing on the bridge that spanned the stream. Here the willow draped gently to skim the edge of the water, tiny green buds all the way along the length of its branches, showing the promise of the heavy curtain that would hang over the water in summer. I studied the angles, focusing on the lines and the direction of light, snapping away, lost in the creative work.
‘We’d better get back,’ said Mutti. ‘We have an appointment with Fräu Andree.’
‘All right,’ I said, lining up the last few shots. This had been a perfect afternoon with my mother and I didn’t want it to end. ‘I should have some good photos to show you and Vati.’ A deep sadness settled over me, dampening my joy, as I realised it had taken the death of my brothers for Mutti to open up to me, for us to reconnect at last.
But I shrugged off my mantle of melancholy. There had been too much sorrow and I had so much to look forward to. I was most excited to return to the bridal salon for a fitting of my wedding gown. It should be complete.
Herr Schmitt pulled up in front of the bridal salon and my mother prepared to get out of the car.
I stopped her, my hand on her arm. ‘Something’s wrong, Mutti. The door is closed and the lights are off.’
‘Don’t be silly. They’re probably trying to do their bit for the city and reduce the electricity they’re using.’
‘I’ll go and check,’ I said. ‘No point both of us getting out of the car if it’s closed.’
‘No, Fräulein Lotte,’ said Herr Schmitt. ‘Stay here and I’ll find out what is happening with the salon.’
We watched as he tried the door, but it was locked. He rang the bell and knocked half-a-dozen times, but nothing.
‘Whatever can have happened?’ asked Mutti, craning her neck to see any movement within the salon. ‘This is most unusual. Herr Schmitt confirmed our appointment yesterday and everything was fine then.’
‘It’s closed, Mutti. Maybe we can telephone them when we return home.’
Just as Herr Schmitt turned to leave, the door opened a crack. He whipped around, exchanging a few words with whoever it was. He hurried back to the car and opened Mutti’s door.
‘The salon is closed but there’s a woman who has your gown.’
‘What’s happened?’ asked Mutti perplexed, her brows drawn together.
‘She won’t say, but I think it best if you hurry. I want us to leave as soon as practical. Whatever it is, I don’t want you among it longer than necessary.’
Mutti shot me an astonished look, nodded and without further comment, we got out of the car.
The woman opened the door only far enough for us to slip inside, her eyes darting from side to side in fear. The salon looked the same as always but it was eerie. Something didn’t feel right. Shadows fell across the room and I noticed the racks of display gowns were bare.
‘What’s happened here?’ Mutti hissed. ‘Where is Fräu Andree?’
The woman began to shake in terror. ‘I shouldn’t have let you in. I’m only a seamstress.’
‘Where is everyone and where are the gowns?’ I asked, tendrils of apprehension coiling through my belly.
‘I have your gown,’ stuttered the woman. ‘I was finishing the beading at home before your appointment today.’
‘Where is Fräu Andree?’ Mutti repeated. The woman looked blankly at her. Out of patience, Mutti grasped the woman’s shoulders and shook her. ‘Tell me what’s happened here.’
She slumped to the settee when Mutti released her. ‘They took her. The Gestapo took her away.’
‘Why?’ asked Mutti more gently.
‘She’s been lying to us all. She’s a Jew.’ Tears were streaming down the woman’s face.
I gaped at her in bewilderment.
‘No, that’s ridiculous. There’s some mistake. She’s München’s top designer. Somebody would have known,’ Mutti said.
‘This is the Gestapo. There are no mistakes,’ whispered the woman. ‘They closed down the salon, took all her designs and any of the dresses they found.’
‘What will happen to her?’ I whispered. Dread spread through my body like an insidious fever, making me rigid with fear.
Mutti shook her head. ‘We can’t do anything for her now.’ She turned her gaze to the seamstress. ‘Do you have the gown?’
The woman nodded and hurried to collect the paper parcel. ‘It’s finished. Try it on at home. If you need any alterations, I can do them for you.’
‘Thank you,’ said Mutti, taking the parcel from her. ‘It was brave of you to return to give us the gown. Make sure you give your address to my man and we will be in touch.’
The woman nodded. ‘You’d best leave now. It’s not safe to be here.’ She opened the door to let us out. Mutti couldn’t leave quickly enough, pushing me out in front of her.
On the drive home, I saw nothing but Fräu Andree’s face gazing intently at my dress, searching for a design solution to satisfy our requirements. It was a face filled with passion and a desire to please. She had done nothing wrong. I didn’t think I’d known anyone who was Jewish. The anti-Semitic Nürnberg Laws had come into effect when I was only ten years old, the year my parents divorced and I was sent away to boarding school. Although we had grown up being taught that Jews were the root of all evil, I couldn’t believe that of Fräu Andree. She was a good woman, making people happy with her creative designs.
‘How could they take her, Mutti? She never hurt anyone.’
Mutti clapped her hand over my mouth. ‘Shh, Lotte. You mustn’t say that.’ Her eyes were filled with alarm. ‘Promise me you’ll never speak of it again.’
I nodded, silenced by my mother’s fear. Something tugged at the back of my mind, an old memory. I frowned, trying to recall the detail. Something about when Willi was home for the first time after enlisting in the Luftwaffe, when he came to see Mutti and I. He had told me a story about visiting an uncle of ours that lived near Berlin. This was my real father’s brother, a part of my family I knew nothing about, a timber merchant living on a large forested estate between a river and a lake. Willi told me his wife was Jewish and that our cousin was unlucky, not able to fight for his country because of his Jewish blood. I remember feeling shocked that we had Jewish relatives but Willi was worried about them because they were lovely people and part of our family. He worried what might become of them.