‘I’m sure you must be missing your wife and children,’ said Mutti to Erich.
He nodded, his eyes clouding over. ‘They’re still in Silesia. I had hoped they would be in Berlin for Christmas but my daughter has been unwell and not fit to travel.’
‘How old are your children again?’ Mutti asked, sipping her wine, relaxed now that the table had been cleared.
Erich’s face lit up. ‘Eva is nine and Walter has just turned five.’
‘A perfect age to enjoy Christmas,’ said Mutti wistfully. ‘I still remember when mine were all that little. They were so excited waiting for “der Weihnachtsmann”, and when he finally came and they discovered the presents under the tree, well, they were beside themselves. I never had any trouble keeping them awake on Christmas Eve. It was the highlight of their year.’ My mother smiled indulgently at me.
‘Were your family planning to just visit Berlin for the Christmas period?’ asked Vati, draining his glass of cognac.
‘No. I want to get them away from Silesia. I don’t think it will be safe there for much longer. The Red Army is getting closer each day and I don’t want my family anywhere near an invading force.’
‘We’ve heard some terrible stories about the Russians,’ said Mutti. ‘I can see why you want to get your family to leave.’
I touched the pocket of my dress where Heinrich’s photo sat, a stab of fear striking at my heart.
‘Why Berlin?’ asked Bettina. ‘Why not come to München?’
I didn’t miss the swift glance she cast at me but I kept my face politely interested, although I already knew the answer.
‘My wife has relatives in Berlin she can stay with. There’s nowhere to stay here in München and who knows where our department will end up?’ said Erich.
‘When do you think they’ll be ready to travel?’ asked my father. ‘It gets harder with each passing day.’
‘Yes, I know.’ Erich sighed. ‘I would have liked them to leave weeks ago. But my daughter is getting stronger and young Walter is growing and able to help his mother more too. I’m hopeful that they will be ready in a couple of weeks or so.’
‘The sooner the better,’ muttered my father.
‘What about your parents?’ I asked.
Erich looked at me gratefully and smiled. ‘My father was conscripted into the Volkssturm about a month ago. At present, he is based in Breslau, training the young boys to be defenders of the Reich. When he wrote to me, he told me he suspects they will probably defend the towns along the Oder River. He said he could live with that, if it protected Grottkau, which is on the western side.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ I said, my face turning red, horrified I had brought up such a difficult situation for him.
‘It’s all right. It can’t be helped.’
‘What about your mother?’ enquired Mutti, picking at the stollen on her plate.
‘She’s stubborn and won’t come with Inga and the children as long as my father is nearby. She said she’ll stay and look after the shop, convinced that nobody would bother an old woman. I’m not so sure, but without my father there, she won’t listen to me and I can’t force her to come.’
Mutti nodded. ‘She might be right, you know. My parents are in Trier and they have been left alone by the Americans. It’s not easy for them, of course, but they are safe and well. Hopefully it will be the same with your mother.’
‘Hopefully,’ echoed Erich, but his eyes clouded with pain.
‘What about some of that chocolate we brought?’ said Bettina brightly.
Later that evening, Erich found me in the hallway between the two rooms. ‘Frohe Weihnachten,’ he said softly, pushing a small parcel into my hands. ‘Just a little something to thank you for everything you do.’ His hands touched mine briefly and a spark of electricity passed between us.
I stared at him a moment, searching his eyes, but found only guarded politeness. ‘You didn’t have to,’ I said. ‘I was only doing my job.’ He looked hurt by this, his forehead crinkling into a frown, his shoulders hunching just a little. I couldn’t hurt him, no matter how confused I was, so I smiled brightly. ‘I’m pleased you’re wearing the tie I gave you.’
‘Of course.’ He touched the knot in his tie. ‘It’s lovely, you have such good taste. I had to wear it. Open yours, please.’ The look of tortured anticipation on his face, just like a child, nearly made me laugh. It was so sweet that he was worried whether I would like his gift.
I fumbled with the string and wrapping until I saw a corner of blue silk. I began to tear open the package as Erich stepped closer to inspect the contents with me.
I pulled out a soft scarf, patterned in two shades of blue. ‘It’s beautiful,’ I whispered, ‘and it’s silk.’
‘It’s French. I knew someone coming back from Paris and I asked them to find me a blue scarf. I wanted it to match the colour of your eyes.’ He held up the edge of the scarf next to my face. ‘I think it comes close,’ he said. ‘Here, let me help you tie it around your neck.’
Erich moved so close to me I could feel the warmth of his breath on my neck. I shivered as he fastened the knot at my throat, his face barely a whisper from mine.
‘You’re cold,’ he said, stepping away abruptly. ‘Come on. Let’s get back to the warmth.’
As I turned to go back to where the others were still gathered around our small table, Erich touched me on the arm.
‘I’m sorry Heinrich isn’t here to spend Christmas with you. This should have been your first as a married couple. I’m sure you have many Christmases together ahead of you. Take it from me, make the most of those early married days when he returns. Learn to know each other well and share your lives honestly with each other.’ He looked down at the floor. ‘I wish that Inga and I had done that. Maybe things would have been very different between us.’
I stood rooted to the spot, shocked by his revelation and confused by his well- intentioned advice about marriage. Erich smiled sadly and opened the door to return to the festivities. Courteous as always, he allowed me in first. Bettina noticed my new scarf and I saw the look of speculation cross her face.
8
The start of 1945 didn’t bring us the news we had hoped for. The great offensive against the Western Front had ultimately failed and the Americans and British were pushing forward once again. Many of our new aircraft were lost before they even reached their destinations as factories and freight trains were bombed. It seemed like the dire predictions of Vati, Erich and Bettina had been accurate. Mutti had had every right to worry about our future. Unless the Führer could perform a miracle.
Then München was bombed once again.
I came home after the bombing to find our home still intact but much of the city in ruins. I was numb, too shocked to cry, and I stared in disbelief as I picked my way down once familiar streets that were surrounded by the charred, twisted remains of buildings. The gangs of workers couldn’t keep up with the enormity of their task. Rubble and debris were scattered across the streets, which were almost impossible to navigate. There was no electricity or running water and sooty faces stared at me with eyes sunken from exhaustion and despair. Talking to neighbours, I learnt that many had decided it was time to leave the city before their luck ran out, before the city was decimated. They decided to take their chances in the country along with the streams of refugees we had heard about fleeing before the Red Army in the east. The exodus out of the city made me think of the panicked action of jumping from a sinking ship into the unknown; the general feeling was of self-preservation. As far as these people were concerned, Germany had lost the war and they had done their duty for the Fatherland but now it was time for survival.