‘Lotte,’ called Bettina, as I was shrugging out of my overcoat. ‘Have you heard?’
‘No, what?’
‘Berlin was bombed again last night.’
I swung back to face her. The Allied campaign targeting Berlin had been raging for weeks. My father had been recalled to the army and sent to the capital. My eyes widened in alarm and I grabbed Bettina’s arm. ‘Where? How bad was it?’
‘Bad. The western part of the city was hit – the Ministry of Munitions, several arms factories, some barracks and a few embassies. Fires have been blazing all night, destroying anything the bombings left.’
‘The Führer?’
‘Fine. But something else – pamphlets were dropped saying that Germany has lost the war, that the Führer won’t concede defeat because it means his end. It’s disgraceful, the worst kind of propaganda to shattered and broken people.’ Bettina shook her head in disgust. ‘None of the government or Wehrmacht offices were hit. I’m sure your father’s fine. We can find out from his office where he went. It’s all right.’
I nodded, too choked up to respond otherwise. I had to telephone my mother, it was best that she heard it from me.
‘Mutti.’
‘Is everything all right?’
‘I just wanted to let you know that Berlin was bombed quite badly last night.’
‘Vati?’ Her voice quivered with fear.
I took a deep breath, trying to stay strong for her. ‘His offices weren’t hit but we’re trying to find out where he is.’
‘All right.’ I could hear the catch in her voice. ‘Let me know the moment you hear anything.’
‘We might not hear from him immediately, communication lines are down. But don’t worry. I’m sure he’s fine.’
‘Just call me as soon as you know anything.’
‘I will, Mutti. Goodbye.’ If anything happened to Vati… it didn’t bear thinking about.
Bettina used her connections to discover where Vati’s meeting was in Berlin and where he was staying. She plonked herself at my desk later that day.
‘He should be fine,’ she said quietly, the monotonous tapping of typewriter keys continuing around us. ‘He was nowhere near the bombings.’ She patted my hand and I just stared at her, not sure whether I could let myself feel relieved yet.
With no word from my father, life at home was tense. My mother and I moved around the apartment like zombies, jumping every time the telephone rang or the door opened.
Heinrich joined us at home on the second evening. The bombings in Berlin had continued again through the night, and I had gone to work at my mother’s insistence, but I’d been next to useless. Heinrich and I tried to make small talk with my mother but every attempt fell flat. She hadn’t eaten all day and by the dark circles and bags under her eyes, I was certain she hadn’t slept and had spent a good part of the day crying.
The shrill buzz of the doorbell punctuated the silence. The tap of heels across the marble foyer told us the butler, Herr Schmitt, was attending to the door. With a nod from me, Heinrich rose and went out. I glanced at my mother, her face frozen in fear mirroring the rush of despair I suddenly felt. I couldn’t stand it another minute. I jumped up, determined to meet this news head on, when Heinrich called, ‘He’s home! He’s all right.’
My mother sagged in her seat and I rushed to help her to her feet. Arm in arm, we crossed the parlour floor just as Heinrich entered the room with my father by his side.
‘Johann,’ my mother whispered with joy.
‘Amelia, liebchen,’ he murmured, as she smothered him in kisses. ‘It’s all right. I’m home now.’ My father’s hollow eyes rested on me and he smiled wearily. He held one arm out and I was in his embrace, solid as ever. ‘My strong girl,’ he murmured and kissed the top of my head. It was only then that I allowed myself to relax, the relief flooding my system making me giddy and sick to my stomach.
Heinrich took my arm as my father moved to the settee, still entwined with my mother. ‘You look pale,’ he said. ‘You need some fresh air.’
I nodded, too overcome to speak.
He guided me onto the balcony, where the sharp bite of the evening air numbed my face but was a cooling balm to my clammy skin, settling my stomach and clearing my head. I looked up into the night, stars faintly visible as tiny pinpricks against the inky sky. It was still strange to look out over the dark street. Ever since blackout had become a way of life I missed the cheery circles of the streetlights.
‘Better?’
I nodded, breathing in the frigid air. ‘How much longer can this war go on? Too many people are dying, too many lives are shattered. I sometimes wonder if it’s all worth it.’
Heinrich’s arms encircled me from behind, the fine mist of his breath caressing my cheek. ‘Sometimes I think about those who have resisted the course of this war, questioned the Führer’s wisdom.’
‘You mean the White Rose?’ Heinrich had told me how members of the resistance group, fellow students of his, had been arrested earlier in the year. He had been shaken by the viciousness of the Gestapo and the harsh sentences inflicted on those he knew and worked with.
‘They didn’t deserve to be executed. They were peaceful, young and idealistic and had seen so much. I served with a few of them on the Eastern Front – it was enough to make anyone question their beliefs.’
‘Shh, Heinrich. Don’t talk like that. It will only lead to trouble. You can’t mean it.’
Heinrich sighed as he shook his head. ‘Of course not. I was just thinking that there’s too much wasted life. We need to win this war, I agree, but it has to be soon. And you’re right, too many have already been maimed or died most horrible deaths in the name of this war.’
I wondered about the Allied pamphlets Bettina had told me about. ‘We will win, won’t we? We’ve sacrificed too much not to.’
‘There’s talk we’re not doing well on the Eastern Front, although the news reports suggest otherwise. The truth is I don’t know.’
Cold fear blossomed in my blood, making me want to run away to a place that had never heard of war. Heinrich pulled me close and I leant back into him, his warmth seeping through my clothing, his desire pressing against me. I closed my eyes, giving in to primal emotions, aroused by his need for me. My breathing came in fast, shallow bursts as I imagined how this situation might develop if we were alone. I shuddered as the oberinspektor’s face appeared behind my eyelids. I turned in Heinrich’s arms, intent on reminding myself who I was promised to. I wondered how much longer he would suppress his passion before I either gave in or he looked elsewhere. I kissed him gently to rid myself of the image of the oberinspektor’s intense eyes and Heinrich drew me closer, his hand on my back, sliding lower, his mouth insistent, his tongue exploring and searching. I moaned, suddenly weak in his arms, letting him push thoughts of the oberinspektor away. A knock on the glass door made us pull apart, a little breathless. Herr Schmitt coughed delicately before announcing that dinner was served.
‘We’re waiting for the designer I’ve managed to secure to custom-make your gown. She does all the big society weddings,’ said my mother as we sat with Tante Klara on elegant Louis XVI settees upholstered in pastel shades of silk brocade in one of München’s most fashionable bridal salons. Mutti had decided that the perfect thing to lift our mood after the fright of my father’s visit to Berlin was to begin the search for a wedding gown. I was secretly excited about finding the right dress. What girl didn’t dream of the perfect wedding gown to wow her groom on their wedding day?
‘These are her latest designs.’ Mutti passed me the drawings the designer had done for her. ‘She wants you to try on some dresses in a similar style so we can see what suits your shape.’