Frau Wilhelm clung to Annie like a limpet, crying into her neck and leaving a trail of tears and slime on the shoulder of her jacket. But to Annie, her own grief for Walther felt soft and quiet and cushioned either by disbelief or by the baby growing inside her. There had been the telegram followed by the certainty that there had been a mistake, Frau Wilhelm and Herr Doctor’s outrage, the panic about the baby she had to keep to herself, a short church service, black armbands to sew and position on their sleeves. There was no body to cry over, as Walther’s was buried in the cold ground at the Russian Front, but Herr Doctor was making arrangements for a headstone in the local churchyard so they would have a place to lay flowers and ponder their lives without him.
Then terrible chaos and fear gripped Annie and Fred when Ilse, Gustav and Carl were arrested. And in the midst of all that, Annie told Fred she was pregnant. She sat and watched him tear out his hair – the short shocks, like tufts of grass, coming out in clumps in his fists. He stared at them, then threw them to the floor before searching his scalp to grab another handful. The first question Fred asked her, when he finished with his hair, was if the baby was Walther’s. Humiliation washed over her. How dare he think otherwise. ‘Of course,’ she answered, careful to keep her anger under control as she was aware that she was completely at his mercy. But she couldn’t help adding, ‘Do you think so little of me?’
‘I am sorry, Annie.’ Fred slumped into a chair and held his grey face in his hands. ‘But… how could you allow this to happen? You know how precarious our situation is already.’
Annie refused to hang her head in shame. ‘I did not allow this, as you say, to happen. It just… did. And now I must face the consequences without Walther by my side.’
‘Do you know, Annie,’ Fred said, sitting forward and balling his hands into fists over and over again, ‘that Vi and I had one night together? Just the one.’
Battling against a tightening in her throat, Annie said, ‘Walther and I did not have many more.’
‘For all I know,’ said Fred, gulping another schnapps, ‘there is a child. My child. Being kept from me by this bloody war.’
After a few minutes of heavy silence, Fred moaned. ‘Oh, what to deal with first.’
‘Perhaps,’ Annie offered, ‘our fellow freedom fighters?’
‘I have already told you, Annie,’ Fred shouted, beyond the end of his tether. ‘You are not to go near that trial. I forbid it!’
None of them did. It might have been cowardice that stopped them, but they believed that if they turned up in the gallery they would be questioned about their possible involvement with the resistance group and they had heard the rumours of the Gestapo using horrific means to get information out of people. And if they were arrested, too? What good would that do anyone?
But as it turned out, the trial lasted for just one day. One short, never-ending day during which Fred was in Munich, trying to ascertain what was going on and Annie was alone in the house, frozen in fear. Not daring to go to the window and move the curtain to peer outside, or visit Frau Wilhelm, or walk to the market for shopping. When Fred came home and told her what he had heard through prattle, she was incredulous. The judge was a puppet and Ilse had been brave way beyond the limit of the definition of the word.
‘I heard she denied her complicity to begin with,’ said Fred. ‘Then made a full confession but refused to implicate any other members.’ He shook his head. ‘I doubt I could have been so brave.’
‘Oh, Fred,’ Annie said. ‘Is anything worth this?’
‘Ilse, I believe, would say there is. Annie,’ Fred said, reaching out and holding her hands in his. ‘Take a deep breath and steel yourself.’
She did as she was told. Then he continued, his voice thick and guttural, and told her that the judge, to make a warning of their three friends, condemned them to be executed by guillotine a mere few hours after the guilty verdict. ‘I cannot even fathom it,’ he said. ‘It is all too horrific.’
Annie put her face in her hands and wept until she felt she could not wring out another tear. Fred poured both of them a drink with shaking hands and said, ‘Someone reported that Ilse’s mother tried to get into the court and when she told a guard that she was the mother of one of the accused the guard quipped, “Then you should have instilled better values in your child”.’
Annie had never met Ilse’s mother, but when she thought of her trying desperately to see her daughter for what turned out to be the last time, her heart felt as if it would break.
Wiping her nose, she remembered meeting Ilse for the first time in the university canteen, her welcoming smile and warm greeting. The way she clipped her hair behind her ear; the earnest way she listened to all sides of an argument and how swiftly that serious look turned to laughter. They had enjoyed, yes that was the right word, enjoyed their trip to Berlin. It had been dangerous and heart-stopping and precarious and although they would have given anything to live in a world where taking such risks was not necessary, they did what they had to do together, in high spirits and with high hopes.
Now, they could never do anything together again. Ilse had been disposed of as cruelly as if she were nothing more than a piece of dog mess on the sole of one of those big, black boots.
Annie and Fred spent the next week mourning and talking about Walther and their friends. So as not to raise suspicion, Fred continued to go into Munich each day but told Annie’s office she was unwell and would return when she felt better; he passed the same message onto Frau Wilhelm. And it was the truth, she was sick with grief or pregnancy or both and racked with guilt that Ilse had been caught, but she was free; that Walther was in the frozen, unforgiving ground whilst she was feeling spring on her legs and arms; that she might have reeled off her comrades’ names without compunction if she’d been arrested; that no matter how difficult the circumstances, she was expecting a child and Ilse would never get such a chance; that Walther would never be able to see, hear or hold their child close.
On the Friday evening, much earlier than expected, Annie heard Fred’s key in the front door. Worried, she ran to the hall and found him sitting against the wall, pasty and exhausted. ‘Fred,’ she said, kneeling beside him. ‘What’s wrong?’
He asked her for a glass of water and after he drank it, Annie helped him to a chair in the living room. ‘Fred, tell me what’s happened,’ Annie insisted.
It took him a minute or two to compose himself. ‘Ernst, Otto and Helmuth—’ he counted them off on his fingers ‘—along with a handful of others we never met from various places, were arrested yesterday, tried today and have been sentenced to death.’ His voice rose on a sob. ‘They’re in prison awaiting execution.’
Fred’s report cut Annie to the bone. She could almost feel the edge of the chilly, honed guillotine blade against her neck and wondered how those three honourable men, with their high moral standards, would meet their demise. With dignity, she told herself.
‘How can this be?’ she said. ‘Shouldn’t the Nazis be captured, put on trial and executed? That would be the right way around. Nothing in our world is how it should be. I will go into Munich with you on Monday and see those who are left. I know I won’t be able to talk with them, but at least we can be together in quiet camaraderie. I need that, too. Fred, what do you think?’
But Fred didn’t answer. He stumbled to the back door, threw it open and vomited down the drain below the downpipe.
Annie sat, her hands restless and fidgeting, asking herself over and over again if they had done any good whatsoever or if the promising lives cut short were too great a price to pay. But what about the people waiting to get on those cattle trains? The academics who disappeared and it was rumoured, were condemned to torture and death? What about them? she wanted to shout to anyone who would listen. Would she be able to do it all again? She hoped she would with Ilse as her heroine and when she had gathered her courage.
Fred came back in, filled a bucket and Annie heard him swill it around where he’d been sick. He flopped into the chair across from Annie, looking pale and waxy, a sheen of sweat around his moustache. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and said, ‘Annie, you will not be going into Munich for some time. Not for any reason.’
Annie opened her mouth to protest, but Fred held up his hand.
‘There are now more pressing problems that we must sort out.’ He pointed to her stomach, which she rubbed protectively. ‘This will take all our time and attention for a good while.’
Fred sat forward in his chair and stared at a spot above her head for some time without moving a muscle or saying a word. Then he paced to the window and looked out at the vegetable patch – a few tomatoes, radishes, carrots, beetroot and onions basking in the weak sun. Next he went to the cupboard, brought out the bottle of schnapps again and gestured to her with it. ‘No, thank you,’ she said, touching the place under her ribcage. ‘I am feeling nauseous.’ He downed another measure of the clear liquid, then without warning flung his glass against the wall. Annie’s hand went to her heart and she watched as the shattered pieces scattered on the floor. They reminded her of diamond chips in engagement rings that neither she nor Fred could lay claim to.
He poured himself another glass and told her to go to bed and rest.
‘I will clear the glass first,’ she said, wanting desperately to make amends.
‘No,’ he ordered. ‘Leave it.’
Not wanting to be obstinate, Annie went up to her room but did not sleep; she lay wide awake and listened to the sounds of Fred pacing the floor downstairs.
*
Relief swamped Annie when Fred greeted her in his usual warm manner in the morning. Perhaps his long night of marching around the house had led him to some kind of resolution; or maybe the realisation that Viola could well be in the same position as her and would need help, support and advice had touched his heart and altered his thinking. After breakfast he said, ‘Here is what I think should happen. Let us see if you agree. First, we should tell Herr Doctor and Frau Wilhelm about the baby.’
Annie was dumbfounded by what seemed to be an absurd and impractical proposition. ‘Are you joking?’ she said. ‘How can I possibly tell them that I am expecting their dead son’s child? And that he got me pregnant without us being married? No.’ She shook her head until it ached. ‘I cannot possibly put such a burden upon them.’
‘But think about it, Annie.’ Fred drew his face close to hers. ‘Walther was their only child. As far as they are aware, they now have no one. But the fact is, they will soon have a grandchild and once they get over the shock, they will want to care and love and be involved in the child’s upbringing.’
‘But, Fred…’ Annie wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt. ‘Are you asking me to give up my baby to them?’
‘I hadn’t thought of that as a possibility, but in some ways it might be for the best.’
‘No, it would not be the best for me or the child.’ She set her mouth and crossed her arms over her stomach. ‘I will not allow it.’
‘No, Annie, in all honesty I did not think you would. But you will need protection now, you and the baby. More protection than I can give you.’
That statement made Annie shiver with apprehension. ‘This is what we should do,’ he continued. He said that they should put to Walther’s parents that they band together for the sake of Walther’s unborn child. Then, with the help of people Fred knew at the university, they could falsify a marriage certificate dated a few days before Walther was posted. Annie could wear Oma’s wedding ring that she had left her and then the baby would not only be considered legitimate but would be the child of a Nazi war hero. Done and dusted. Protection for all of them.
‘But people will ask why we didn’t make the marriage public when it took place,’ Annie said.
‘Simple.’ Fred had thought through all the loopholes. ‘We just say that you and Walther were desperate to marry before he was posted and because it was arranged so quickly only immediate family attended. You had, of course, every intention of organising a bigger celebration upon his return, but that now cannot happen.’
It sounded almost feasible. Then for some reason, Horst’s pink, turgid face came into her mind and with it, a sense of dread. ‘But what if someone decides to pursue their questioning to the Town Hall and looks for the original marriage certificate there?’
Fred spread his hands wide and looked defeated. ‘I suppose we can’t cover every eventuality. But ask yourself who would do that and why? Everyone knows you and Walther were sweet on each other. Why else would both of us be wearing mourning clothes? And it is a time of war. People do impetuous things. So,’ he said. ‘I will pay them a visit and discuss all of this with them, steering them in the direction they need to take if they do not get there by themselves. After that, we follow what will, in effect, be their lead.’
Other than a few far-fetched misgivings, it sounded like the perfect plan – if Herr Doctor and Frau Wilhelm agreed.
Fred shaved carefully, dressed in a dark suit and adjusted the black band around his upper arm. ‘Wish me luck, Annie,’ he said.
She did, and silently thought he was going to need it. One hour passed, then two. Two and a half. Like a shotgun, there was a rap at the door that made goose bumps spike her skin. Fred had a key; there was no need for him to knock. Annie sat as still as she could, her hands twitching in her lap, neck stiff on her shoulders. Another loud battering on the door. This time she stood in alarm and looked around for somewhere to hide. ‘Annie,’ a voice called through the doorjamb. ‘Please open the door.’ It was Frau Wilhelm and besides sounding frantic to be let in, Annie could not discern her state of mind. She might be angry, disbelieving and insulted. Maybe she would draw back her elegant hand and slap her hard across the cheek. Or push her to the ground. But if she had run from her house in such an enraged state, Fred would have followed her to stop her from harming his sister.
Creeping to the door, Annie peered through the spyhole and observed her. She was breathing heavily and her eyes were swollen and red from crying for weeks, but there were no signs of rancour on her face. As she watched, Frau Wilhelm flung herself against the door and battered it with the flat of her hand. ‘Annie,’ she cried softly. ‘Do not deny me.’
Taking a deep breath, Annie opened the door. Perhaps she was in for a chastisement or spiel about her lack of integrity, a cold shoulder or an interrogation into how she had led Walther astray. But what she had not been expecting was the usually well-composed doctor’s wife flinging herself into her arms as if she were throwing herself on charity. In another time and situation, the scene that unfolded would have been most comical. In fact, Annie liked to think that Walther was looking down on them and laughing, encouraging her, as he always did, to join him in finding the humour in themselves. There in the hallway, as Frau Wilhelm tried to hug her and close the door behind her in one seamless movement, they lost their balance and fell to the floor, bringing down the umbrella stand and a potted plant with them.
‘Annie, Annie,’ Frau Wilhelm cried. ‘Oh no, this is impossible.’ She gained her feet in the most undignified manner imaginable, unwittingly showing her bloomers and the rolled and knotted tops of her stockings in the process. Despite everything, Annie could not stop a giggle from escaping her throat. ‘Annie,’ Frau Wilhelm said. ‘Are you hurt? Hysterical? I will run back for Herr Doctor.’
‘No, no, I am in one piece,’ Annie said, reaching for the bannister to help her to her feet.
‘Give me your hands,’ Frau Wilhelm said, in control again. ‘You must not put any strain on yourself.’ Two deep lines of concern formed near her eyebrows. ‘Let me help you.’
Annie allowed herself to be pulled up, muttering all the time that she was absolutely fine. Then they stood, out of breath and awkward, staring at each other in their dark dresses and lack of makeup or adornment. ‘May I?’ Frau Wilhelm said, pointing to the living room.
‘Of course,’ Annie said, gesturing to one of the chairs beyond the door. ‘Please make yourself comfortable. Would you like coffee?’
Suspended partway towards a sitting position, Frau Wilhelm said, ‘But please let me get it for you. You shouldn’t be running around after me in your condition.’
Again Annie told her that she was perfectly well. ‘I will not be long,’ she said, disappearing into the kitchen. But then Frau Wilhelm was there behind her, looming so close she could feel her breath and the faint odour of unwashed hair. Oh no, Annie thought. If she and Herr Doctor grant me their acceptance and beneficence, she will hover around me like this for months and I’m afraid it will be all I can do not to scream aloud – then she immediately felt guilty for the thought. She clamped her jaws together; Walther’s parents were good people and she would need them to get through this difficult time. Turning to Frau Wilhelm, she smiled and said, ‘Can you take the cups to the table for me, please?’
Frau Wilhelm seemed to be stunned out of a deep reverie. ‘Yes, of course,’ she said, happy to be asked to help. ‘Annie,’ she said softly. ‘Fred has spoken to us of your predicament.’
Annie could not turn from the coffee pot. ‘I am so sorry, Frau Wilhelm,’ she said. ‘That at such a time of terrible trouble, I have heaped more upon everyone I love.’
‘Come. Sit down,’ the older woman said. Annie noticed that Frau Wilhelm’s hair, which she had envied for its thickness and dark shine, now appeared dull and uncared for. Annie supposed that brushing fifty strokes every night before bed was the least of anyone’s concerns now. Both of their hands were shaking as they lifted the hot coffee to their mouths.
‘I’m afraid I have no cake or even a biscuit to offer you,’ Annie said.
Frau Wilhelm shook her head. ‘I have no appetite at the moment.’
‘Nor I.’
Then they both began to speak at the same time, but out of deference, Annie allowed Frau Wilhelm to continue. ‘You have nothing to be ashamed of or sorry about.’ Her eyes narrowed; her knuckles whitened around the handle of her cup. ‘What is the one thing that makes this situation intolerable?’ Annie didn’t attempt to answer as she knew that was not what was wanted of her. ‘The one and only thing that is regrettable is that Walther is not here.’ Her voice caught in her throat and Annie knew Frau Wilhelm was struggling to continue, but she managed to do so with clarity, ‘That my lovely son is… dead. There, that is the first time I have been able to say the word.’ Annie reached for her hand. ‘Dead,’ Frau Wilhelm whispered into the distance. Her hand twitched in Annie’s and she gulped in a long, silent, shuddering breath that she released through a gaping mouth.
Annie put her arms around her and held tight, wanting nothing else at that moment than to be able to give Walther’s mother some comfort. When she looked down at Frau Wilhelm’s face, cradled against her chest, there was a tiny pool of liquid quivering above her lip. With diminishing convulsions, Frau Wilhelm pulled herself together, wiped around her face with a handkerchief and said, ‘It is the fault of… you know who and his comrades. How I despise all of them,’ she spat, snarling her lips and baring her teeth.
‘Yes, we agree on that,’ Annie said. ‘If Walther were here, then all would be well. I want you and Herr Doctor to know that things were settled between us and we intended to tell you when he…’ Now it was Annie’s turn to choke on what she had to say. ‘Returned.’
They nodded at each other in complete accord.
‘We know that to be true, Annie. Walther intimated as much to us the night before he was posted and we were most happy. But not surprised.’ Then she cleared her throat and was business-like again. ‘Fred came to us with an idea, but what do you want to happen now, Annie?’
‘I do not want to give up my baby, Frau Wilhelm,’ Annie said, wanting to make that perfectly clear before anything else. ‘I will not terminate or surrender this gift from Walther. No matter how many people tell me one of those solutions would be the best thing to do.’
‘You will never hear that from me, or Herr Doctor.’ Frau Wilhelm’s features looked as though they were set in stone. ‘Do you know, that we thought we would have four children.’ Annie raised her eyebrows in surprise. ‘Yes, four or maybe even five. But fate stepped in and after I had Walther I could not have any more. So, imagine if I had, for some reason got rid of my beautiful boy? Herr Doctor and I would have been childless. Unimaginable.’ She shook her head. ‘A baby is always, in my opinion, a blessing.’
‘If you have someone to love and help you,’ Annie said, thinking of the girls in her position who might not have anyone to turn to.
‘But you have Fred,’ she said. ‘And us.’ She gripped Annie’s hand with what felt like all her strength. ‘We will stand by you in any way we can. Let us help you and our grandchild. I beg you. We will instigate Fred’s marvellous plan. All we ask is to be a part of our grandchild’s life.’
Annie could not believe how worried Frau Wilhelm seemed that she might accept her and Herr Doctor’s help with the fake marriage and then reject their involvement with them beyond that. Of course she would not allow that to happen. She was blessed and fortunate and knew how very different things could be for her if Fred and this benevolent couple had decided to disown her. Not even the lowlife Nazis, who think of nothing but their own debauched pleasures, would want her. If she were in that dreadful bind, how could she possibly avoid getting rid of the baby? Her hand found her stomach and rubbed the tiny bump that had recently appeared. ‘My most fervent wish for my child is that the little one would have had the chance to know his or her father,’ Annie said. ‘But given the circumstances, I could want for nothing more than that the baby have you, Herr Doctor and his uncle Fred. And I know that Walther would want the same.’
Frau Wilhelm wiped a stray tear from her cheek. ‘Fred told me you would say so,’ she said. ‘But I had to make sure that this is how you want to proceed.’
Annie took a deep breath. ‘I am positive,’ she said.
Frau Wilhelm smiled. A broad, genuine smile that seemed to cut, momentarily, through her grief. ‘I told my husband that if I did not return within the hour, he and Fred could assume that all was well and they could move forward with the grand plan.’
‘The sooner the better,’ Annie said.
Together they moved from the kitchen to the cosier living room and talked of the happier, light-hearted things that women discuss when a baby is announced. Did Annie think the baby would be a boy or a girl? Annie thought a boy and if that came to fruition she would call him Walther. Frau Wilhelm clapped her hands together and closed her eyes in near ecstasy when she heard that. What about baby clothes? They decided that after the false paperwork was complete, they would begin to knit and sew what was needed. Frau Wilhelm said that it would not be professionally possible for her husband to care for Annie or attend the birth, but he would ensure that she was put on the books of a doctor he recommended. And all being well, she would have the baby at home under the care of a midwife. In their attic, they had Walther’s baby crib complete with drapes and linen. They would retrieve it, give it a dust and Herr Doctor would sand it down and varnish it. Frau Wilhelm would wash and mend the bedding. What did Annie think of all that? Annie thought it sounded wonderful. More than she had dared to hope for.
9 June 1943
Fred did not waste any time in getting the certificate. There had never been a need for me to see such a document, but even to my inexperienced eye, it looked legitimate. Herr Doctor and Frau Wilhelm said it appeared lawful and correct; no one would ever suspect that it was forged. So, I have one copy, Fred another and Walther’s parents a third and fourth. Fred said we needed a number because if we are bombed out or have to get away quickly and we accidentally leave it behind, we will not be able to go to the Town Hall like every other married couple and get a copy.
So my dream has come true and I am married to Walther. And if anybody asks I have the proof. There is a ring on my finger and on the table in front of me, next to his notification of death in action, is our marriage certificate.
Annie spent her time in the house, preparing to give birth. She sewed, knitted, cleaned, kept her journal, cooked, read, tended the vegetable patch. She wandered to the shops or to see Frau Wilhelm who clucked around her like a broody hen – sometimes she wondered who was having this baby. Her time at the university with the resistance group seemed to have been another life. Fred still went off every day and he told her there was no longer any underground activity that he could discern, but she was not sure she believed him – he came home too late and was too agitated to have been lecturing and researching all day. She no longer questioned him because if he were to tell her he had resumed writing and distributing leaflets or spreading graffiti, she would go insane – because of her anxiety for him and because she could not be involved.
And tonight, of all nights, he was late again. The doors were locked and the windows latched, but still Annie jumped when the wind toyed with a loose window frame and she started at what might be a mouse scratching behind the skirting or when what should be the familiar sound of a creaking floorboard emitted a thin squeak. She sat on her bed, writing what she thought would turn out to be nonsense in her journal, grateful to have something to half-occupy her mind. Her knicker drawer was open so that if that despicable man Horst knocked, she could bury the evidence.
Earlier in the day, she’d had a pleasant couple of hours with Frau Wilhelm. They’d chatted and she was shown how to embroider a panel on a nightdress she was making for the baby. Herr Doctor had joined them during a break from treating patients and he questioned her about her health. Despite the fact he could not administer to her, he took her blood pressure, pulse, temperature, checked her ankles for swelling and pulled down her eyelids to scrutinise for signs of anaemia. She’d felt both manhandled and fortified when he had finished – and very relieved when he gave her the okay.
The walk home had been enjoyable; she’d admired sunflowers, rhododendron, zinnias and peonies. A ginger cat sunned himself on the warm bricks of a wall. Two little girls and a boy scraped their toes through the dirt as they walked back to school after the midday break. She’d watched them for a long time, dawdling and picking up seeds and stones and leaves and inspecting them as if they were treasures. They’d made her laugh with their sleeves that were too short and their unruly hair. A plane flew through the light clouds overhead and only Annie had paused to look up. Nothing was going to get in the way of the children and their exploration of nature. Who amongst us, Annie had thought, has got it right? Certainly not the one adult present.
Then she’d rounded the corner to their little street and there he was – Horst – squirming with impatience and peering through the front window. Unfortunately, he’d spied her, too, so she couldn’t turn and retrace her steps. He’d lifted his pudgy hand in a salute and called, ‘Heil Hitler’. A few curtains twitched but soon resumed their smooth folds when they saw the big, bad, menacing figure of a Wehrmacht officer in their neighbourhood. It’s only Horst, she’d wanted to reassure them, you remember him, don’t you? The little guy whose trousers never used to fit properly? But recalling that hadn’t reassured her, either.
Using her shopping bag as an excuse to only half raise her hand, she’d returned his salute. He’d seemed immeasurably jubilant with her response which made her, in turn, think he was more of a fool than she’d given him credit for. But a dangerous fool, she reminded herself.
‘Hallo, dear Annie,’ he’d called. ‘I was about to give up for today.’
If only she’d stayed with Frau Wilhelm, or watching the children for another few minutes, she’d thought, but then tried to rearrange her features to look as if she was somewhat pleased to see him.
He’d marched over and wrestled her shopping bag from her. ‘I will help you.’ Everything he said sounded like an order. Then he’d cupped his clammy hand under her elbow and marched her towards the house. How did he think she managed to get about when he wasn’t there. ‘Mutti told me about your situation. I am sorry for you, Annie,’ he’d said, without sounding it. ‘A bride, a wife, a widow and a mother-to-be all in the space of what – two months?’
‘Yes,’ she’d said in a thin voice. ‘We live in bewildering times.’ She’d opened the door and he’d followed her into the kitchen, placing her bag on the small table.
‘You must find comfort in the Fuhrer’s perfect plan,’ he’d said. ‘There is no confusion where that is concerned.’
He then plonked himself down in the nearest chair and watched her unpack her shopping, fill the kettle, get down the cups and make the coffee. ‘Again no cake?’ he’d said.
‘Sadly, no. I find I’m not very hungry these days.’
He’d made no comment, but she could feel him appraising her from head to foot. ‘When is the baby expected?’ he’d asked. ‘If that’s not too intrusive a question?’
‘Middle of September,’ she’d replied.
‘And tell me, Annie, why were we not invited to share your big day with you and Herr Doctor’s son? Mutti was most upset not to witness you being married.’
Steeling herself to face him, she’d held tight to the coffee cups and placed them on the table. ‘I am sorry that Tante Herte feels she missed out, but I did explain to her that Walther and I had every intention of celebrating with the family on his return. But…’ She’d looked down at her feet and sniffed a couple of times.
Horst had picked up his cup and blown on his coffee. A curtain of steam hung between them for a moment. ‘But why the hurry before he was posted?’
How dare he, she’d thought. He was an insensitive, callous brute. She’d put down her coffee cup and looked him straight in the eye, deciding to play him at his own game. Without blinking, she’d said, ‘Our main consideration was that we plight our troth. Are you implying otherwise, Horst?’ He’d broken their stare first and she’d felt a tiny twinge of victory.
But he couldn’t leave it at that. He couldn’t let her have that one win. ‘As I said on previous occasions.’ He’d leaned back on two chair legs, his chin in the air. ‘You must call on me if I can help in anyway.’
‘Thank you.’ She’d tried to remain civil. ‘I am lucky to have my parents-in-law, Herr Doctor and Frau Wilhelm. And my lovely brother.’
Horst had let his chair slam to the floor. His voice had become softer but more threatening. ‘Fred?’ he’d asked with mock innocence. ‘But he will be away soon, too.’
The scant sense of having outfoxed him that she’d wallowed in a moment earlier slipped away in an instant. Fear had pricked along the length of her spine; adrenaline causing the pit of her stomach to drop and her legs, under the table, to feel numb and wobbly. She hadn’t been able to decide if she might faint or be sick. ‘I don’t understand,’ she’d said.
Horst had smiled, pleased to be back in what he thought was the superior position. ‘He has been playing around in that university for too long,’ he’d said. ‘So I paid him a visit there today and told him it was time he joined up.’ He’d waited for her reaction, but she had been dumbfounded. ‘Yes, Oma no longer needs him here and you have Herr Doctor and Frau Wilhelm. A healthy young man like Fred is needed elsewhere. He must enlist, or before my leave is over I will frogmarch him to the recruitment office myself.’
Annie had placed her cup on the table with a rattle and wondered if she should beg Horst not to go through with his threat. Or perhaps try to reason with him. Remind him that German wasn’t Fred’s first language, plead that she needed him here, his students needed him at the university. But her tongue would not allow what was in her brain to be spoken.
Horst had kicked back his chair and stood, giving the impression that the conversation was finished. As he sauntered to the front door, he’d opened as many cupboards and drawers as he could and rummaged in bowls and behind books. She had not stood to see him out, but when he’d reached the front door, he’d turned and said, ‘By the way, I am on leave for ten days only. Be sure to remind Fred.’
Annie had sat where she was for a long time after he left, playing the conversation over and over in her mind and worrying about how she could possibly have ensured that the outcome was different. If only she hadn’t tried to outsmart him. But what else could she have done? She felt as though she’d had to stick to their story about her and Walther and their marriage. Her coffee grew cold. Shadows fell across the kitchen. She hadn’t thought about dinner or dusting or washing or sewing. She’d been too stunned to move an inch.
When he came home at last in the early hours, Fred found her asleep on the floor. He put his arms around her and tried to lift her to a chair but she woke with a start. ‘Annie,’ he said. ‘You should be fast asleep in bed.’
‘Fred,’ she sobbed. ‘Never mind me. Horst has been here.’
‘Shh, Annie. Take a deep breath,’ Fred said.
She took several and he went into the kitchen, returning with a glass of water for her.
‘He has been to see me, too,’ Fred said. ‘This morning.’
‘He told me,’ Annie said.
‘Yes, he rounded me up with a few colleagues and told us the inevitable.’ The anger and resentment that would once have been in his voice was replaced with a monotone of surrender. ‘I… We have been ordered to join the Wehrmacht.’ He looked up and his eyes were sad and defeated. ‘Within ten days.’
‘I know, but Fred…’ she spluttered. ‘Can he do that?’
‘He and his bullies can do whatever they like.’ He shrugged.
They sat in silence for a few minutes. Then she asked Fred what he was going to do about this latest crisis. How did he intend to fight the order? Could he put his case to someone higher up than Horst?
He put his hand on her arm. Shaking his head, he said there was nothing he could do. He must go. They must follow the initial plan they’d decided on four years ago and do whatever they needed to pretend that they agreed with the regime. That was the only way they could stop suspicion from falling upon them and hope to get out of this mess with their lives.
‘No, no, no,’ Annie shouted, beating a cushion with her fists. ‘I will not allow this. If you cannot stay here and fight against this, then you must run. Run away.’
‘Where to?’ Fred asked.
‘I don’t know. Switzerland. Or yes, I do know. I have it. You can hide in the attic. I will say you have run away. I will swear to it and I will say I am ashamed of your cowardice. That will convince them. Then I can take food and books and schnapps up you. When the Allies come to liberate us you can come down and you will be a hero of resistance.’
Fred started to laugh, but Annie did not join in. ‘Too implausible,’ he said.
‘But so was your idea about falsifying my marriage and look,’ she said, hoping her fervour would be catching. ‘It worked perfectly. So will my plan for you and—’
He cut her short with a wave of his hand. ‘Annie,’ he said. ‘Stop. The time has come. I must go. We have been lucky it has not come to this much sooner. Now, go to bed. You need to rest.’
She turned and marched up the stairs, unable to comprehend his complete and utter capitulation. Again, she lay in bed and listened to him pace the floor downstairs and knew that she would miss everything about his presence, even that.
They were able to talk more logically the following morning about what was going to happen next. Fred reassured her many times that Herr Doctor and Frau Wilhelm would look after her and that caused her to become exasperated. Yes, of course she was worried for herself without him, but she was also distressed and would be, every day he was gone, for his safety both physically and mentally. How, she wondered, would he be able to keep up the pretence of being in agreement with the Nazis when there was no respite from them? Could he possibly find like-minded men amongst his battalion or would it be too much of a risk to try to lure each other out of hiding; what kind of a fool would dare do that?
They discussed the possibility of him requesting a certain role in the Wehrmacht. Perhaps some kind of teacher, Annie suggested. ‘Ha!’ was his response. ‘Education is the last thing any of those swaggering tyrants are interested in. The term all brawn and no brain was written for them. And any type of instruction from someone half-British would go down like a cache of bombs.’
She proposed he file conscientious objection, but he said he should have done so at the beginning of the war, not on the cusp of his recruitment. If only they had thought of that then. Or could he use her as an excuse? Say she would be left alone and vulnerable without him? ‘If that were a good enough reason,’ he answered, ‘there would be no men at all in the Wehrmacht.’
At last they had exhausted every alternative and with much sorrow she, like Fred, resigned herself to the situation and decided to make the most of the time she had left with him as a civilian. How she loathed the thought of seeing him in that brown uniform and she knew that every second he had to wear it his skin would crawl with revulsion.
Frau Wilhelm invited them to dinner with her and Herr Doctor and she had been more creative than usual with the rations. They had a spread of pork knuckle, potato pancakes and sauerkraut followed by apple cake. Annie knew some ingredients had been replaced or stretched as not all of it tasted quite right, but it was laid out beautifully, like a condemned man’s final meal.
Herr Doctor and Frau Wilhelm said they thought it would be best for her to stay with them, but she and Fred were anxious about leaving Oma’s house untended and Horst laying claim to it. ‘Then I,’ Frau Wilhelm said, ‘will come and stay with you. You must not be alone. Don’t you agree, Erich?’ She turned to her husband.
Herr Doctor nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘From whenever Fred has to… When Fred is made to…’ He cleared his throat. ‘Leave. Temporarily.’
‘You have done so much for us already,’ Fred said. ‘But I would be most grateful. Annie?’
‘Thank you,’ she said. And she meant it. Her gratitude to them came from the very bottom of her heart.
*
Annie watched Fred walk away towards the railway station in his stiff black boots and belt, a hard helmet pulled down over his freshly shorn head. On his back he was carrying a regulation knapsack that had in it a regulation flask, metal dish and cutlery, a shaving kit, his ID card with her details on the NOK form and a change of regulation undergarments. She knew it would upset him if she asked, so she didn’t, but she presumed he would get his regulation gun when he turned up at his barracks.
His walking posture was one of a soldier, which she supposed was the essential effect of the uniform. Besides, he wouldn’t want to draw attention to himself by walking with his shoulders drooping or his eyes on his obnoxious boots. ‘Do not,’ she warned him, ‘say or do anything to make them think you are not happy to be doing your bit for the Fatherland.’
He laughed at that and said she should take her own advice as she was forever up to something questionable. ‘Yes, but I am not under the scrutiny of the Nazis every hour of every day, as you will be.’
‘Don’t remind me,’ he said. ‘My English accent is going to be enough to make me stand out like a sore thumb.’
She turned her nose up when he put the helmet on his head and adjusted the chinstrap. He knocked on it twice and reminded her that the piece of moulded metal could save his life. She kissed her palms then and rubbed them all over the cold headpiece. Then there was nothing left to say except goodbye and Godspeed. Annie bit her lip and checked her tears as she didn’t think it would be fair for his last image of home to be her, weeping. But at the last moment, she saw a puddle form and settle in his lids and she could not help herself – the crying started. Fred had to prise her hands from his arms finger by finger. He kissed each one, turned and did not look back. It took all her fortitude and the baby growing inside her to stop herself from running after him.
Alone in the house, Annie struggled to breathe and it wasn’t because the baby was pushing up against her ribs. Her already splintered heart was crushed. She couldn’t stop sobbing – loud, long, snivelling blubs that racked her from head to foot. She couldn’t see or hear or feel anything other than the pain inside her. This was what it felt like to be broken-hearted not once, not twice but over and over again.
Fred – her protector, the older brother she put through so much, scholar, philosopher, gentleman, loyal friend, fiancé-to-be, honourable and ethical resistance fighter – had joined the Wehrmacht.
*
Later that evening, after Frau Wilhelm moved in, there was a heavy-handed rap on the door. Annie shuddered; she knew it was Horst again. She got up to answer the knock, but Frau Wilhelm stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. Straightening her skirt, she marched to the door. Annie leaned towards the hall and listened. ‘Yes?’ Frau Wilhelm said and Annie imagined her talking through a crack.
‘Ah, Frau Wilhelm.’ Horst’s voice sounded less commanding when faced with the doctor’s wife. ‘It’s me. Annie’s cousin. Horst.’
‘I remember,’ she said without a trace of fondness. ‘Herr Doctor treated you for hornets’ stings one summer. Let me think. You were about seven at the time. Oh you did cry. Not a brave little boy at all.’
Annie had to hold one hand over her mouth, the other on her stomach to contain her laughter.
There followed indistinct mumbling from Horst.
‘No, I’m afraid Annie is resting.’
‘And Fred?’ Horst asked.
‘Do not pretend you are unaware of his whereabouts.’
Again Annie could not hear Horst’s response, his usual booming voice reduced to a murmur by a middle-aged woman.
‘Well, I am sure you’re pleased your leave is over. Good evening to you.’ The door was closed and locked behind him. So, Annie thought, that was the way to deal with the odious Horst from now on.
When Frau Wilhelm came back into the living room, they laughed and retold the conversation many times that evening. Looking over at her mother in law, a wave of recently silvered hair falling over one eye, Annie thought about the meaning of bravery. Of course, nothing could ever take away from the courage of her compatriots in the resistance movement, but what about Frau Wilhelm and others of her ilk, taking every opportunity to be courageous and defiant whilst going about their everyday business. Nothing loud or big or showy or memorable, but a symbolic kick here, a metaphoric slap there, a challenging word, a token refusal to comply. After everything she had lost and stood to lose, she was willing to quietly let it be known that she was standing up to the aggressor. Annie put Frau Wilhelm on a par with Ilse and hoped that together with other quietly daring people, they could claim victory.
20 July 1943
I have no one to talk to so must get this down on paper. Ernst and Otto have been executed. I will never see their dear faces again and the world has been denied their wisdom and talent. Helmuth has been spared but remains incarcerated. I dread to think what the Nazis have in mind for him. He must feel so alone and frightened, locked up in a cell and wondering what his destiny will be. This might sound cruel, but if he is to follow the others in being executed, I hope it will be soon as waiting must be agonising. Helmuth – such a kind, thoughtful, gentle man. I believe he was planning to marry. All our hopes, dreams, ambitions, lives have been snatched from us.
Fred, oh Fred. Wherever you are – Italy, Yugoslavia, Georgia – I hope this news does not reach you. It would bring you to your knees.