28

Anya peered into a cracked mirror and frowned at the dowdy waitress uniform she’d been given to wear. It was old and itchy and seemed to be well worn. The waist was tight, and she feared such was the state of the fabric that it might tear at the seams while she was working. The white apron was no better, having been washed many times, yet still there were yellow stains. The stockings were black, and that was all you could say about them; they were held together with thick darning wool, and going by the stiffness around the toes, she had to wonder whether they’d ever been washed. As for the white cap, her only thought was that the people in charge of banqueting arrangements in this building could learn a thing or two from Joe Lyons.

‘Are you ready, Monique?’ an elderly woman whispered in perfect English, glancing around first in case anyone was nearby. ‘I will have you working alongside me as I serve the soup course. Just copy what I do and you cannot go far wrong. Follow me with the tureen; I will nudge you when we are close to the person you wish to identify.’

‘Thank you, Natalie,’ Anya whispered back, ‘that doesn’t sound too hard. I will soon learn the layout of the tables.’

‘There are over four hundred people sitting down to dine; this is why we considered it safe for you to work here, as the employers have had to call in every member of staff along with extra people they do not know in order to serve all the guests on time. It is imperative that we act professionally and do not make any comments on what we see or hear.’

‘I understand. I just wish to see this woman and then leave.’

‘I’m not sure that will be possible, as leaving early could draw attention to you. However, don’t worry about that. We will think of a way to discreetly get you out of the building.’

Anya nodded, trying not to worry about the long evening stretching ahead of her.

‘I have told people you are my cousin, and that you have come to visit an ageing relative for a couple of weeks,’ Natalie continued. ‘You were not only glad to be able to help this evening, but the money you will be paid will come in handy. I gave your name to the banqueting manager; with him being so busy, he simply noted it and took my word that you could do this job blindfolded – even though you are mute.’

Anya nodded her head. She peered down into the tureen of insipid-looking liquid she had been asked to carry. ‘Whatever is it?’ she whispered back.

‘Onion,’ Natalie replied, grimacing.

‘They forgot to add the onion,’ Anya sniffed.

‘Hurry up, Natalie. No dawdling, or there will be complaints and the soup will become cold.’ A stern-looking man in black formal attire waved them through a set of double doors into the vast hall.

Anya froze to the spot, causing waitresses behind her to bump into each other as she took in the sight before her. The vast wood-panelled hall was decorated on each wall with ceiling-to-floor swags of red fabric decorated with the Nazi swastika. She had stepped into the viper’s nest.

‘Come along,’ Natalie hissed. ‘You need to keep going. Concentrate on the soup and not on the people in uniform,’ she instructed as they headed for the first row of white-covered tables.

Uniforms? Anya hadn’t even looked at who was seated at the tables, as she had been mesmerized by the symbol of the people she had come to hate long before she fled from Poland. Dragging her gaze away from the red banners, she gazed at the guests, and her anger increased. Almost every man in the room wore the uniform of the Third Reich. Most were enjoying jovial conversations with their fellow officers while the women, dressed in formal evening attire, paid attention to their partners. A noise in her head, rather like the roar of thunder, threatened to overwhelm her senses to the point she could hardly think.

‘Concentrate,’ Natalie hissed as she picked up the first soup plate and dipped her ladle into the tureen. ‘And smile,’ she added, seeing the grim expression on Anya’s face. ‘People are here to enjoy themselves; it is not our place to make them miserable. Now, let us speed up with this soup before there are complaints that it is cold.’

Anya pinned a fixed smile onto her face and, doing her best to ignore the room and the people in it, walked carefully behind Natalie with the heavy tureen. ‘Can you see her yet?’ she whispered, as Natalie turned to fill another soup plate.

‘No, she is somewhere near the top table where the dignitaries are sitting. We will fetch another tureen and continue to serve. There are five courses, so there is still time for you to have a good look at her.’

Anya thought her feet would hurt almost as much as Mildred’s did by the time she’d continued with her task. Already, a darned patch near her toes was rubbing uncomfortably.

Once they’d served six tureens of soup, it was time to clear away the plates ready for the next course. Anya wrinkled her nose at the smell of the fish with its accompanying strange mix of vegetables. It was so foul that she promised herself she would never again complain about Flora’s fish pie, or indeed the smell of Mildred’s boat, the Saucy Milly – if they ever saw it again.

This time, Anya also carried plates of food to the hungry guests. Copying Natalie, she was able to serve it correctly, and for a little while she even started to enjoy her work; at least, when she managed to forget who she was serving. She avoided eye contact with the guests in case someone asked her a question. The fish course was soon consumed and the plates cleared away.

Back at the serving station where they collected the food, Natalie leant close to Anya to speak. ‘I might try some of that duck they’re having for the next course.’

Anya frowned. ‘Are we allowed? The last thing I need is to be caught by the enemy for stealing their food.’

Natalie laughed ironically. ‘This is why we eat their food and steal as much as we can to take home to our families; we must look out for each other. However, be careful. There is bound to be someone among the staff who would happily give us away in order to curry favour with this scum.’

‘In that case, I will be careful. I would like to take some of that cheese with me, and perhaps some tarte tatin for my friends; they’ve not eaten properly for a few days. They are relying on me to complete the mission this evening.’

‘It will be done,’ Natalie smiled. ‘Come, let us start to take out the main course; the food is plated up. We’re moving on to serve a different section of the table so that you can seek out the person you are looking for.’

‘I thought you knew where she was sitting?’ Anya asked as they took the hot dinner plates from a serving table at one end of the hall. She copied Natalie by carefully balancing two plates in each hand.

‘She is near the top table; that is all I know. I suggest you look discreetly at those at the top, then work your way down each time we bring food to the table. But don’t stare too long, in case someone notices.’

‘I understand,’ Anya replied, determined to serve the food as quickly as possible so that she would have time to look at the women sitting close to the top table. Four times she moved at a fast pace up and down the banqueting hall, serving food and checking the guests. She was about to return for a fifth time when the banqueting manager caught her by the arm. Anya froze, fearing the worst.

‘Woman, take this tray to the top table and serve our distinguished guest. Be quick, as he is waiting.’

It was clear from the way he nodded towards the top table that she was expected to go there immediately and serve on her own. For a moment, she froze. What if someone spoke to her?

Natalie stepped in to take the tray from her, but was pushed aside by the manager. He pointed to Anya.

She had no choice but to nod her head in agreement and turn away, carrying the tray. Hurrying the length of the hall once again, she decided this would be her chance to have a good look for the woman she was seeking. She glanced to the left as she passed the diners, quickly ruling out certain women by their size and age. The woman she sought was slim and around her own age. Try as she might, she couldn’t remember much else about her – but then an idea came to her. She’d been told the woman had married a much older man. Perhaps if she looked for older men, not in uniform, it would help her? There again, perhaps the woman was here tonight with someone else . . . a rapid stream of thoughts rushed through Anya’s head as she approached the top table.

Deep in thought, she held out the tray to one of the uniformed men standing at either side of the main guest. After checking what was on it, he stepped back to allow her to set down the plate. It was then that Anya came face to face with Adolf Hitler.

She dropped the tray with a shriek, causing silence to fall throughout the enormous room. All eyes turned towards her . . .

The Führer looked at Anya through ice cold eyes for what felt like a lifetime. Then, to her astonishment, he began to laugh. She stood frozen to the spot as he laughed and laughed, pointing at the mess she had made of her uniform with food splashed down the front.

Inside, Anya was grappling with her emotions. She wanted to fly at Hitler’s throat and shake the life out of him, but an image of her son flashed before her. How would Alexsy live his life without either of his parents? There was no guarantee that Henio would ever return from wherever he was. If Anya were to perish here, at the hand of the most hated man in the world, would it serve any higher purpose?

She felt sick as she realized what she would have to do.

She curtseyed and lowered her eyes, trying to look deeply ashamed of what she had done; trying to behave as if what she felt was awe and respect for a great leader.

Hitler brushed her away with a careless wave of his hand, still laughing.

She turned and fled from the hall, heading for the nearest ladies’ cloakroom, not caring whether staff were allowed to use it. Locking herself in one of the cubicles, she sat down and tried to compose herself. Shaking from head to toe, she did her best to think logically about what to do next. She knew she could not go back into that room and risk drawing Hitler’s attention.

As she thought about the consequences of her actions, there was a knock on the door. A whispered voice called her name. ‘Anya? Is that you? Please let me in, I beg you . . .’

Anya knew it wasn’t Natalie, but the voice was familiar – a safe familiar – a voice from her homeland. She opened the door of her cubicle. ‘Hello, Anouska. It has been a while.’

Anouska Bartkowicz closed the door behind her and wedged one of the cloakroom’s elaborate little chairs under the handle to stop anyone else entering. Then she all but collapsed into one of the other chairs, gazing at Anya.

‘Are you here to help me? I can think of no other reason you would have returned to France, as when we parted you were going to England to find your husband . . . Henry?’

‘Henio,’ Anya corrected her. ‘My husband’s name is Henio.’

‘I need your help, Anya,’ Anouska said. ‘I was told that someone would attempt to get me away from France to safety. When I spotted you at the Führer’s table, I just knew you were here for a reason.’

‘That wasn’t the plan. I am here only to confirm who you are. Later . . . well, others will help you.’

‘There’s no time,’ Anouska said, looking frantic. ‘They already know I am not to be trusted; I fear for my father’s life. Please, Anya, you have got to help me escape right now; if we wait another day, it may be too late.’

Anya looked at the friend with whom she’d escaped her homeland years earlier. Beneath the painted face and fancy clothes was someone she had once been close to; she was caught up with troubling thoughts of what could happen to Anouska if she refused to help.

‘As much as I’d like to take you with me right now, it’s not possible. It could be dangerous for both of us,’ she replied, seeing fear cross the woman’s face. ‘Can you tell me why it is so dangerous for you to stay here? I have been told very little.’

Anouska stared hard into Anya’s face. ‘I will have to trust you, although you were very harsh with me when we left Poland together. You told me no good would come of me staying in France. You were right.’

‘I’m sorry if I appeared hard. I know it is my nature to be serious – it is only because I care and worry so much about others. What has put you in so much danger?’ Anya asked again, before giving a harsh laugh.

Anouska frowned. ‘What is so funny?’

‘I laugh only because here we are hiding in the ladies’ washroom, and out there is the vilest monster walking this earth. If we had an ounce of bravery, we would attempt to kill him even if we lost our own lives in the process.’

A smile flitted across Anouska’s face. ‘I like your humour, Anya. The danger for me is connected with my father; he is a scientist and was planning to escape to America before the fall of Paris, but the attempt failed when he became ill. I stayed to nurse him, and it was decided that I should marry one of his Polish colleagues – for my own protection, you understand? It was a marriage of convenience only. Tomek is much older than I am, and not much younger than my father. He is a dear man and I respect him greatly. However, he too has an illness, a terminal illness. And with my father still being frail I needed help for both.’

Anya was sympathetic. ‘I imagine you would, but how do I come into all of this?’

‘I took a lover . . . a German officer. He helped me with medicines and food to support them both. In return, I . . .’ She looked ashamed.

‘You don’t have to continue if you don’t wish to.’

‘But I do; you need to know. How else can you help me?’ Anouska begged.

‘Then continue, but please be quick before someone misses us and comes looking.’

Anouska nodded, looking weary. ‘Henrick, the German officer, is being sent back to Berlin. If it hadn’t been for Hitler’s visit, he would have gone today. As it is, he is leaving tomorrow afternoon.’

‘Surely that is good, isn’t it?’

‘No, as he plans to take me with him. The fool is enamoured of me. If I refuse, he says he will put Tomek and my father in front of a firing squad and the world will lose two eminent scientists . . .’