Irene sat, trying to be amused by Simplicissimus, and waited. Thomas had said she must not answer the street doorbell but wait for her guests to be shown in. He’d also suggested she should hide a satirical magazine like Simplicissimus, which might be too strong for his mother. When the bell rang she hid it under a cushion and sat demurely.
Frau Curtius and Elise were ushered in and nervously she invited them to sit. They were her first guests here, she felt she was play-acting. ‘Frau Curtius. . .’ she began, but her visitor laughed and said, ‘“Frau Curtius” – no, I cannot allow that. My children call me Frau Mamma, will you too? And “du”, please. I am always telling my husband there is no need to be formal. Secretly I think he quite likes to be called Herr Gesandtschaftssekretär, but I say it is not the title that is important, it is the man.’
They sat down. Lisa hovered. There was a pause.
‘Would you like some tea?’ asked Irene. ‘Or coffee?’
‘Well, since this is an English house, we should have tea.’
‘Tea for three, please, Lisa,’ said Irene, play-acting again.
‘I do hope you like the flat.’ Frau Curtius looked around the room. ‘We perfected it while you were on honeymoon. But it worries me, there is nothing of yours here, not a picture, not a book. It must seem like a stranger’s house.’ She looked piercingly at Irene, who blinked. ‘Well, that will change. My dear, I am very direct, my family often tell me I should hold my tongue, but it is meant kindly. Let me say two things. First – you must understand, for Thomas, the home is very important. He is always thinking about the house, its meaning, its function as a temple of domesticity, and so on and so forth. For him the habitation is central to the nature of a man or woman, a symbol of shelter, affection, inner repose. He is so earnest, the dear boy.’ She paused.
Irene had been sitting very still. She had the capacity to sit like an embodiment of Patience. At the Slade, artists had loved to use her as a model, her figure and face suggested so much, stated so little.
‘Yes, Thomas has talked about the family hearth.’
Her mother-in-law studied her tenderly. ‘Thomas says you are a bohemian, the house may not be so important to you. You must see what suits you.’
‘I am sure Irene has thought about these questions,’ said Elise. ‘She can decide for herself.’
‘Well,’ her mother replied, a little agitated, ‘she has all these new things to worry about, perhaps an old lady’s advice may be helpful. Marrying, moving to a new country – that is not so easy.’ She smoothed down her skirts. ‘You know, my dear, Thomas can be stubborn. When he was a child and building brick castles and houses, they had to be constructed as he determined. He and Elise would have fights, she too has a strong will.’
Surprised at this level of intimacy, Irene reminded herself she was a full family member.
Frau Curtius took her daughter-in-law’s hand. ‘These children operated in quite different ways. When Elise wanted something, she worked subtly. Thomas made a great drama, he told everyone why what he wanted was essential. But in the end, if one suggested other possibilities, he was willing to listen.’ She squeezed Irene’s hand. ‘We are so happy you are here. You know, you are the first woman he has truly loved.’
Tea came in, with much clatter and the moving of little tables. A saucer was dropped by Lisa, who looked about to cry until Frau Curtius remarked, ‘Well it is only a saucer and not even broken, what does it matter?’ There were cakes full of cream, and palmiers from the court confectioners in Charlottenburg that Irene and Gretchen had chosen that morning. Irene looked at her mother-in-law nervously, but Frau Curtius nodded approvingly. ‘What a fine tea. Well, we have an Englishwoman in the family.’
‘I am sure I shall enjoy living in Berlin.’
‘Oh, Berlin, you can say what you like. Berlin pretends to be a great city but really it is a garrison town with the Kaiser stuck on top, like a fairy on a Christmas tree. We’re impressed by absurd things like the new Adlon Hotel – people think it makes Berlin look like Paris. How uncomfortable these chairs are! Thomas insisted. You are better at comfort in England, you must make this flat a thoroughly English, comfortable place.’ She took another palmier. ‘My dear, it will be lonely for you at first, with your husband at the office, he works so hard. When did he come back last night?’ Irene coloured. ‘But we, all of us, are not only your new family but your new friends. If ever you feel unhappy you must come and see me.’
When Thomas came home at half past seven, full of talk about his new scheme, he found a smiling wife sitting at her desk, with sheets of paper in front of her. Irene had pinned up her hair and was wearing a white silk dress with stitching round the neck and arms, and a long string of blue-green beads. She embraced him warmly. ‘I am teaching Gretchen one or two English dishes,’ she said. ‘And I have had some ideas about rearranging the flat.’ He looked surprised.
He did not look at the drawing of an imaginary country house that she had put on the desk. She had thought it might amuse him. She had spent some time over it, consulting his books and creating a house that was partly gingerbread and partly real cottage. He never commented, and after two days she tore it up.