Kirschenmichel
Crumble half a loaf or so of stale white bread into a bowl, pour over a generous 1/2 pint of milk and let stand until all liquid is absorbed. Grease a baking dish and sprinkle with breadcrumbs. Separate two eggs. Whisk the whites until stiff. Cream 2oz butter, the same of sugar with the egg yolks and vanilla, fold in the egg whites, soaked bread and cherries. Bake in the centre of a moderate oven for 45 mins to an hour. Dust with powdered sugar and serve warm with custard.
Rather like Apple Charlotte – perfect for a Whole Meal Menu as an Alternative or Extra Dish as can be cooked low in the oven. With 6 runners, I’d recommend finishing at high position for 10 minutes and then lower for 12 or so. Cream the 2oz butter for 1-2 minutes. Increase amount of bread from 4 to 7 or even 10oz. (Omit 4oz butter from Apple Charlotte recipe.)
How little she owned here, Edith thought as she walked into the new apartment. It all fitted into a trunk and a suitcase. Roz had even less.
Roz hung up her coat on a hat stand spiked with umbrellas and walking sticks: wanderstab plastered with little shields, stocknägel, nailed to the cane and chestnut shafts.
‘Funny, isn’t it? All this being someone else’s.’ She took out a hiking staff and read the names of places they’d never heard of: Elferhütte, Bielefelder, visited by people they would never know. ‘They’re just waiting, the Germans, don’t you feel it? Biding their time, until we pack up and leave. Then everything can get back to normal, they can go hiking again, collecting these little badges, and it will be just as if we were never here at all.’ She put the stick back carefully. ‘We’re like privileged refugees.’
Elisabeth was waiting for them: beds made, stoves lit, water hot. She made Kirschenmichel with Hilde’s parting gift to Edith. She wouldn’t allow any help with the cooking and clearing. Edith was glad to have got Elisabeth out of the overcrowded warren where she’d been living but it was odd to see her in this role. She would always be more chatelaine than servant.
Elisabeth’s introduction into Roz and Edith’s new ménage would not go without comment. Their move wasn’t the issue, nor was their choice of housekeeper, it was the fact that they would share the apartment with her. That was contrary to regulations and could prove a snag. Elisabeth’s daughter was staying with Lise, her wet nurse, for the time being, so that was one less complication, but Edith judged that it was time to tell Bill Adams. As an Intelligence Officer, he could make problems like that go away. She put in a call. He wanted to see her anyway. Could they meet for a drink in the Mess?
‘What’s this I hear about brake pipes being cut?’
‘How do you know about that?’
‘Little bird. Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Didn’t seem any point. It was probably Stephan and he’s disappeared.’
‘Even so …’ his frown deepened. ‘It’s not on. Getting above themselves. I’ve a good mind to roll the whole lot up.’
‘I don’t want you to do that, not yet anyway.’
‘Why not?’
‘At least we know who they are and where they are. Die Spinne. Tear a web in one place, it grows in another.’
‘I see your point.’
‘I’ve got a plan.’ She told him about Elisabeth.
‘Cleverly done, Edith,’ he was nearly rubbing his hands with glee. ‘Cleverly done! Frau Schmidt trusts her?’
‘Fallen for her hook, line and sinker. Elisabeth’s very charming and aristocratic. Frau Schmidt likes that.’
‘Charming and aristocratic, is she? I’d like to meet her.’
That wasn’t going to happen. She didn’t want to put Elisabeth in a difficult position. Most of the men were Lotharios and not just the single ones. Even the Brigadier was having an affair with a woman who worked in Catering, according to Roz. With wives at home and unattached women freely available, the temptations were just too great.
‘Attractive, is she?’
‘Very.’
‘In that case, I’d definitely like to meet her.’ Bill Adams smiled and smoothed his pale moustache.
‘Good idea. Perhaps I’ll bring her here for dinner.’
Bill laughed a little uneasily. They both knew that Germans were verboten, unless employed in the Mess as servants.
‘I was joking.’
‘So was I.’
‘All right, Edith,’ Bill put his hands up. ‘You win. Frau von Stavenow is safe from me. Put it down to misplaced gallantry. What about the husband?’
‘Frau Schmidt is very impressed by Kurt, his rank in the SS, and so on. She’s promised Elisabeth she’d help find him. She’s in touch with some people …’
‘That’s good. Names?’
‘I can give you the local women but they’re small fry.’
Adams nodded his agreement. ‘We want the wider network.’
‘Frau Schmidt calls them the Organization. She’s very cagey about it, Elisabeth says.’
Adams frowned. ‘We need to know how big it is, who’s involved, how widespread and if they’re in touch with other groups.’
‘I’ll see what Elisabeth can find out.’
‘You do that but be careful. These are unpleasant types, very unpleasant and we don’t want any more – accidents. Good work, Edith. Another?’ He clicked his fingers and the waiter came running. ‘Whisky. No ice.’
Elisabeth was accepted as one of the Schwestern, more and more trusted. A good Nazi Frau looking for her husband. The local group were connected to other networks, who were connected to other networks. Frau Schmidt had sent out a request for information on the whereabouts of Sturmbannführer Kurt von Stavenow. Word was passing along the mycelium of Nazi organizations that were branching and spreading well out of sight of the British.
It all seemed to be working out very well – maybe too well.
‘How was your weekend?’ Roz started as they were walking home from work. Edith had been out all day. It was the first time they’d had to catch up with each other.
‘Good, thank you. It was cold, but …’
Roz laughed. ‘Don’t suppose that mattered.’
‘No, not a lot.’ She smiled back.
She’d managed to wangle a precious weekend away with Harry. It was the first time she’d seen him since Hamburg and she’d had time to reflect. Although she could never condone what he’d done – the taking of an innocent life could never be justified – she did understand how his history informed his fractured morality. It was not up to her to forgive, such grace was beyond her power to bestow, but he had kept his part of the bargain. Seraphina and Anna were on their way. She knew better than to ask the details. No names, no pack drill, as Jack would say …
‘How was your weekend?’ she asked.
‘Bliss!’ Roz linked arms with Edith. ‘Wonderful to spend all night together in a proper bed. When are you seeing Harry again?’
‘Berlin. Next weekend. If I can wangle it.’
‘Oh, I’m sure I can arrange some meetings.’ Roz smiled.
Edith was sure she would. Another chance to play house with Jeff. At the weekends, Roz had the house to herself, Elisabeth going to the country, to a farm at Badendorf west of Lübeck, where her horses were kept, looked after by her Master of Horse, Kaspar, the father of her child.
‘You know Elisabeth?’ Roz began. The name sparked between them.
‘Yes, I know Elisabeth,’ Edith said evenly. ‘Has Jeff discovered some deep, dark secret?’
‘Oh, no, nothing like that,’ Roz said, to Edith’s relief. Interest from Jeff and Public Safety could really throw a spanner into her carefully calibrated works. ‘It’s just, well,’ Roz went on, there was obviously something troubling her. ‘Do you ever think about the child?’
‘Elfriede? Why?’
‘Well,’ Roz had a tendency to say ‘well’ when broaching awkward subjects. ‘Why doesn’t she want the baby with her? I think that’s a bit strange.’
‘The baby is still being nursed and powers that be might take an even dimmer view,’ Edith said lightly.
‘I suppose so,’ Roz conceded, ‘but she hardly ever mentions her. She seems to care more about her horses. And that Kaspar chap …’
‘What about him?’
‘Have you ever met him?’
‘No, he lives out in the country. You know that.’ Edith tried to control her irritation. ‘I thought you liked Elisabeth.’
‘Oh, I do!’ Roz said, keen to make amends. ‘She looks after us very well.’ She patted her midriff and laughed. ‘Perhaps a bit too well. We don’t go to the Mess very much, do we? It’s just …’
‘Just what?’ Edith asked carefully, not wanting to show her growing annoyance
‘I know she’s your friend, and all that, but sometimes …’ Roz paused. ‘She makes me feel a bit uncomfortable.’
‘Really? In what way?’
‘She’s awfully nice, and everything, but it’s like the others. I’m surprised you’ve not noticed.’
‘The others? You mean Germans?’
‘Yes. They remind me of waiters in posh restaurants or grand hotels. They know they have to serve you and they’re perfectly nice about it on the surface, but underneath they don’t like it. They think they’re superior.’
‘Well, she was a Gräfin. It must be hard for a countess to take on what is essentially a servant’s role.’
‘I suppose so,’ Roz conceded. ‘I say,’ she squeezed Edith’s arm, ‘you’re not offended, are you?’
‘Of course not.’
Edith fought down a desire to shake off Roz’s linking arm. They walked along in silence until Roz peeled off to meet Jeff. It was their night for the Pictures. Edith hardly noticed her cheery, ‘Goodbye, see you later.’ She tried to dismiss what Roz had said as Control Commission prejudice, although Roz was not really like that, and it chimed with something Luka had let slip the other day as he was walking her back to the apartment. Something about Elfriede not being Elisabeth’s child. When Edith asked him to explain, he just shrugged and said: Ich weiß nicht – I don’t know – and gave a tight little smile, as if he’d said too much or not enough.
She’d dismissed it at the time as Luka getting things mixed up, as he frequently did, but … She walked on, hands deep in her pockets, her steps automatic, furious with both of them.