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He said at last, ‘Do I want to marry you? Yes … yes … and yes, it’s a proposal.’
‘Oh Willy! I don’t know what to say, I’m only nineteen and you’re only nineteen. We’re so young and –’
‘Don’t you love me?’
Now it was Theodora’s turn to be silent.
She wondered if she did love him. She wasn’t sure. Perhaps she did. He was very nice looking and quiet and studious, and serious about studying medicine, and he had lovely manners. Mrs Mandelbaum, Henrietta’s mother, was always saying Willy was a real mensh. And it was true, he was a haimisher mensh, so easy to be around, very comfortable. Yes, Willy was a good man, and he went to shul regularly, and in the year she had known him he had never done a thing to upset her, had never put a foot wrong. But marriage? She hadn’t thought about that before. But she could do worse. Much worse. Besides, she didn’t mind it when he kissed her. In fact, she liked it. He had soft warm lips and sweet breath and he always smelled fresh and clean, of soap and Kölnisch Wasser. And he was gentle with her, never tried to force her, or make her do anything wrong. When he kissed her she always got a funny feeling inside, and her heart pounded, and she grew warm and flushed. Yes, Willy was special, now that she really thought about it. She didn’t want to lose him. Quite suddenly she knew she would never find anybody who was better than Willy.
She said slowly, ‘I think I love you, Willy.’ There was a little pause, and she said more firmly, ‘Yes, I do love you.’
‘Oh Teddy! That makes me so happy. And will you marry me?’
There was another fractional pause before she acquiesced. ‘Yes, Willy Herzog, I will.’
He put his hand under her chin and lifted her small heart-shaped face to his, kissed her pretty upturned nose, her eyelids and finally her sweet lips. They held the kiss, making it last, and they clung to each other tightly until they had to break away to catch their breaths.
Willy pressed her head against his shoulder and stroked her hair and in silent communion they lingered in their embrace. They knew that a commitment had been made, by the one to the other, and it was a serious moment, very meaningful and precious to them both, and they did not want to let it go.
Finally Theodora gently pushed Willy away, extracted herself from his arms. ‘Look at the clock, Willy, it’s almost midnight. We must leave. I’ll hardly get any sleep before I have to be up to take care of Maxim. The little one’s always awake early.’
‘Yes, we had better go. Come on.’
‘Let me put my hat on first. It’s a cold night, and even colder on the back of your motorbike.’
Turning to the coatstand, Theodora took down her green-and-blue tartan tam o’shanter and looked at herself in the Biedermeier mirror as she put it on, then tightened her matching scarf around her neck. She fished a woollen glove out of each pocket of her navy-blue winter coat, and said, ‘I’m ready then.’
They let themselves out of the Mandelbaums’ apartment and Willy closed the door behind them; pausing on the landing, he took hold of Theodora’s shoulders and gently turned her face to him. ‘So, we have an understanding, Theodora? You will meet me under the chuppa and become my wife?’
She nodded solemnly and her expression was serious, but her light green eyes were shining and they danced with happiness. ‘Yes, Willy. Yes to both your questions, and I shall write to my Aunt Ketti to tell her. As my only living relative she’d want to know that I’m … engaged … to be married.’
‘That’s true. And I shall inform my father, when he gets back from Frankfurt, and I shall also tell him that I can’t go to America. Not without you. We’ll have to get a visa for you, Teddy. I’ll stay in Berlin until we can both go to Brooklyn to my Uncle Nathan’s.’
She smiled and nodded and took his hand in hers and together they went down the steep flight of stairs and crossed the vestibule of the apartment building.
As Willy opened the door leading into the street, Theodora stiffened alertly, grabbed hold of his arm. ‘Listen! Isn’t that the sound of breaking glass?’
‘You’re right, it is. I hope it’s not a burglar trying to get into Mr Mandelbaum’s jewellery shop. I’d better go and see. Wait here.’
‘No! Don’t go out, Willy! It’s dangerous!’ she cried.
He paid no attention to her warning, hurried into the narrow street, where he immediately collided with a stormtrooper who stood staring up at the building.
The stormtrooper grabbed Willy by the shoulder and swung him to one side. ‘Hey you! Watch it! Watch where you’re going, you clumsy dolt!’
‘I’m very sorry, sir,’ Willy said politely, struggling to break free from the man’s grip, but it was tenacious. ‘Please, let go of me.’
On hearing this request the stormtrooper tightened his hold, peered at Willy in the pale light coming through the door’s transom from the vestibule. ‘Why should I let go of you? You might be a Jew for all I know. Is this a Jewish house? Are you a Jew?’
Theodora, who had been listening with growing alarm behind the door, could no longer contain herself. She rushed outside before Willy had a chance to answer – and perhaps unwittingly say the wrong thing altogether.
‘Let him go!’ she yelled, drawing to a stop right in front of the stormtrooper. ‘Let him go at once!’ she repeated, her voice rising shrilly. ‘We haven’t done anything.’
‘You have if you’re Jews. Are you stinking shitty Jews?’ He grinned sadistically and twisted Willy’s shoulder back so far Theodora cringed and sucked in her breath.
Willy was stoic. He gritted his teeth and he did not cry out once, despite the sharp pain.
‘Come on, confess it,’ the stormtrooper snarled, ‘this is a Jewish house, and you’re both Jews.’
‘We are not Jews! What kind of a thing is that to say!’ Theodora exclaimed. And with immense hauteur she drew herself up to her full height of five foot five, and glared at him. She was as bold as brass as she faced him down unflinchingly.
‘My name is Theodora Marie-Theresa Schmidt and this is Wilhelm Braun, and we’re both good Catholics and good Germans.’ She gulped, took a deep breath. ‘And good Nazis, yes, we are indeed that. Heil Hitler!’ She thrust her arm straight out in front of her in the Nazi salute. ‘Heil Hitler! Long live our magnificent Führer! Long live the Third Reich!’ She saluted again.
The stormtrooper gaped at her in astonishment.
And so did Willy. When she had rushed out into the street his heart had almost stopped and he had been terrified, more for her than for himself. But now he knew she was going to get away with this act because of her insolence, her aggressiveness and her effrontery. He’ll believe her, Willy thought, because he’s certain no Jew would dare to confront him like this, or shout at a Nazi stormtrooper the way she is shouting at him. Her anger and her arrogance were so perfectly simulated, and she spoke with such conviction, who could doubt that she was telling the truth? It was quite a performance she was giving. Willy marvelled at it, and at her audacity.
Theodora continued to rail at the man. ‘You’ve got a flashlight in your hand,’ she bellowed. ‘Shine it on us. Shine it on Willy. Go on, do it! You’ll see he’s not a Jew!’ Before the stormtrooper could stop her she leaned forward and snatched the flashlight out of his hand, turned it on and levelled it at Willy.
Willy held his breath, once again petrified for her, for them both.
‘Take your hat off, Willy!’ She spoke so authoritatively, he did as she said, pulling off his hat with his free hand, whilst praying under his breath.
‘Look at him!’ she ordered the stormtrooper. ‘Look at him! Willy has sandy-red hair and more freckles than you’ve ever seen on anybody, and hazel eyes. Is that a Jewish face? No, it’s an Aryan face.’
Dramatically, she turned the flashlight on herself.
‘And just look at me. I’m the Nordic type personified.’ She pulled her long hair over her shoulder. ‘See, I have fair hair and green eyes and skin the colour of a rose. Do I look semitic? Of course I don’t, because I’m not.’
At last the stormtrooper found his voice. ‘Looks can be very deceptive,’ he snapped. Nonetheless, some of the harshness and bluster had gone out of him, and he seemed uncertain in the face of her anger and her torrent of words uttered in such superior and confident tones. But he continued to hold on to Willy, even tightening his grasp.
Theodora drew closer and said with icy imperiousness, ‘What you say is true. Looks can deceive. And perhaps you are not all you appear to be. I said Heil Hitler before. Why didn’t you respond in the same way, as you’re supposed to? I hope you’re a loyal Party member.’ She threw back her shoulders proudly, and tossed her head, spoke more arrogantly than ever. ‘My father is SS Gruppenführer Schmidt. He is a good friend of Reichsführer Himmler. He knows him very well.’ Summoning every ounce of her nerve, Theodora now waved the flashlight in front of the startled stormtrooper’s face. She stared at him, as if committing his face to memory. ‘What’s your name, corporal?’ she asked, her eyes narrowing.
The stormtrooper reacted as she had expected he would, furiously pushing her arm away. ‘Get that light out of my eyes!’ he yelled, and leaning towards her he grabbed the flashlamp from her with great roughness.
Unperturbed, Theodora said, ‘Did you hear me, corporal? My father is a friend of Himmler’s, and he’s a powerful man in the SS. He’s not going to be happy when he knows we’ve been detained by you in this way. I asked you your name, corporal. So, what is it?’
It was apparent the stormtrooper had believed everything Theodora had said thus far, and this second reference to Himmler, who was head of the SS, seemed to both frighten and galvanise him. Abruptly he let go of Willy.
Instantly Theodora took hold of Willy’s arm and pulled him close to her side. ‘Come on, let’s go,’ she said.
‘Yes, you’d better get off,’ the stormtrooper exclaimed sharply, stepping back. ‘Go on, go home! A lot’s about to happen. Soon it won’t be safe on the streets. We’re after Jews tonight.’ As he said this he laughed raucously and slapped his thigh, as if it was a huge joke, and, without so much as another word or a glance, he turned from them indifferently, walked on down the narrow street, shining his flashlight on other shop windows.
Willy gasped, ‘Look what he did to Mr Mandelbaum’s store front –’
‘Hurry, Willy! Hurry!’ Theodora hissed, and catching Willy’s hand in hers she turned, dragging him with her, and together they ran in the other direction, away from the apartment building and Mandelbaum’s jewellery shop, and out into the Kurfürstendamm.
As they hit this street they immediately saw that havoc was starting to break loose everywhere, and so they went on running as fast as they could, their feet pounding the pavement until they reached the lamp post where Willy had parked his motorbike earlier. They were thankful and relieved to see that it was perfectly secure and had not been touched, but they knew they had reached it just in time. The two of them clambered on, their breathing laboured as they settled themselves on the saddle.
‘Hold tight!’ Willy ordered, and she wrapped her arms around his waist as the bike leapt forward and headed down the Kurfürstendamm at breakneck speed.
Vans and trucks were now pulling up all along this wide avenue lined with shops and cafés and apartment buildings. Stormtroopers, rowdies and thugs were spilling out, brandishing hatchets, guns, clubs and truncheons. Like fevered maniacs they were rushing in every direction, smashing the windows of Jewish-owned stores, throwing goods out into the street, destroying the fronts of cafés and hacking at the doors of apartment buildings. Combined with the ear-splitting noise of shattering glass were the sounds of splintering wood and the blood-curdling cries of triumph from the frenzied mob led by stormtroopers.
Theodora was shaking. Holding onto Willy tighter than ever, she shouted in his ear, ‘Faster! Faster! Get us out of here!’
He did not bother to respond, simply gunned the bike forward with a screeching of tyres, and within minutes they were leaving the Kurfürstendamm behind them. Willy was making for the Stülerstrasse, which flowed into the Tiergartenstrasse where the Westheim mansion stood. It was there that Theodora lived and worked as the nanny to young Maxim.
They were on the Fasanenstrasse now.
Just ahead of them was the lovely old Central Synagogue, and as they approached it they were horror-struck. The building was being completely demolished by thugs and stormtroopers, who were breaking all the windows and setting it alight with flaming torches.
Willy accelerated his speed considerably, dangerous though this was, and shot ahead, racing through the mêlée and away from this scene of violent wholesale destruction. But not before they had seen the scrolls of the Torah and the ark of the covenant lying amongst the debris in the street. And alongside were torn prayer books and shawls, and all were being trampled underfoot by the wild mob who were shrieking with hysterical laughter, and shouting obscenities about Jews to each other.
‘I can’t believe they’re burning down the synagogue,’ Theodora wailed in Willy’s ear, and she began to sob and pressed her face into his back.
Willy desperately wanted to stop in order to comfort her, but he did not dare, not until they were out of this area and in a safer part of Berlin. With a terrible relentlessness he pushed the motorcycle harder, as hard as he could, and eventually he was cutting across the Kantstrasse and speeding down the Budapesterstrasse. This was a long and curving avenue which led directly into the Stülerstrasse. With enormous relief he saw that the latter was quiet, entirely deserted as he entered it; in fact, it might well have been on another planet, so peaceful was it. And so he slowed his speed at last, finally came to a stop. After braking, he parked by the side of the road in the shadow of some trees and jumped off the bike.
Theodora was still weeping, now shaking her head from side to side, her hands pressed to her streaming eyes. ‘God forgive me! God forgive me for denying my heritage, for denying my religion, for denying myself and all that I am!’
Willy took her to him, and she sobbed uncontrollably in his arms, cleaving to him. He stroked her back, trying to calm her.
Eventually, he said with great gentleness, ‘God does forgive you. I know He does. You saved us, didn’t you? With your quick thinking and your cheek. You’ve got a good Jewish kop on your shoulders, Teddy. And chutzpah. A lot of chutzpah. That’s what saved us.’
‘I shouldn’t have denied we are Jews,’ she whimpered. ‘It was wrong, Willy.’
‘It saved us. And that’s all that counts.’
She drew away from him slightly, looked up into his grave face, asked tearfully, ‘Why, Willy? Why? Why are they doing this? And why are they burning down the synagogue?’
He was briefly silent, and then he said in a voice that was anguished, ‘The Nazis have turned prejudice into hatred, and tonight we are witnessing a Nazi rampage against us and our homes, our businesses and our places of worship. They are torching, vandalising and desecrating everything that belongs to Jews, because they hate us with a terrible, terrible vengeance.’
‘Oh Willy.’
He held her close to him again so that she would not see the sudden tears misting his eyes.
Theodora was trying to stem her sobs, heaving and catching her breath in little spasms, and after a short while she was quieter, in control. ‘Willy?’
‘Yes, Teddy?’
‘They want to murder us all,’ she whispered against his shoulder.
He did not respond. He knew she was right. And he was afraid.
Chapter Nine (#ulink_24656724-6cb7-52ab-bd7d-c87cbe02b94a)
Theodora felt considerably safer once she was inside the Westheim mansion on the Tiergartenstrasse.
She locked and bolted the door behind her, and then leaned against it, trying to compose herself. She was no longer wracked by sobs, the tears had dried on her face, but, nonetheless, she was still disturbed and upset. The violence she had just seen on the streets, the ferocity of the attack on the synagogue, were indelibly imprinted on her mind forever. And, like Willy, she was frightened.
After taking several deep breaths and steadying herself, she walked quickly across the black-and-white marble foyer, the metallic click of her heels against the marble floor the only sound in the huge and silent house. Obviously everyone was sleeping soundly, unaware of the riots outside. The mobs had stayed away from this exclusive residential district, occupied mostly by wealthy Gentile families, and had apparently concentrated their attacks around the area of the Kurfürstendamm, at least as far as she knew.
An antique porcelain lamp on a chest to one side of the Gobelin tapestry had been left burning for her, by Frau Westheim, upon her return from the dinner at the British Embassy, she had no doubt about that. It illuminated her way up the grand staircase.
When she reached the landing at the top of the stairs, she turned on the lights and made her way along the main corridor. She stopped at Maxim’s door, stood listening, then opened it gently and peeped inside.
The tiny night-light on the bedside table made a faint glow, and it comforted her to see that the child was sleeping so peacefully. Closing the door carefully, so as not to awaken him, she swung around, and, rather than going to her own room which was next to Maxim’s, she stepped over to his parents’ bedroom instead. Lightly, she rapped on the door.
She waited several moments, and was about to knock again, when the door was opened by Sigmund dressed in his pyjamas and a dark silk robe.
Taken by surprise that it was she, and not one of the servants, he stared at her, frowning. ‘Theodora! What is it? What’s wrong? You’re as white as chalk.’ He squinted at her worriedly in the dimly-lit corridor.
He was about to say something else, when Theodora put her finger to her lips, shook her head, and glanced over at the child’s room. ‘Shhhh,’ she whispered, ‘we don’t want to awaken Maxim.’
Sigmund nodded his understanding, opened the door wider, and ushered her into the bedroom.
Ursula was out of bed and slipping on her peignoir, worry clouding her smoky-blue eyes.
When she saw Theodora’s white face and the shock in her eyes, the girl’s distress instantly communicated itself to her. ‘Teddy, whatever is it? Why, you’ve been crying. What has upset you so?’
Theodora stood in the centre of the extraordinarily beautiful bedroom with its green watered-silk walls and many exquisite objects and great works of art, and wondered where to begin, how to tell this refined and aristocratic couple about the hideous violence and destruction she had just witnessed out there in the centre of the city. And for a second she could not find the words.
She stared at Ursula. Her mouth trembled.
Ursula returned the girl’s unblinking gaze, her eyes puzzled, her expression one of concern. Theodora was her charge, whom she had taken into her home three years ago, after the death of Frau Rosa Stein, Teddy’s mother and widow of Doctor Johann Stein. Until his death in 1933, the doctor had been the Westheim family’s physician for many years, and devoted to them. When Teddy had come to live with them at the age of sixteen, Ursula had been fulfilling a death-bed promise to Teddy’s mother to look after her until she came of age, or got married. Ursula took this promise seriously, and although Teddy was Maxim’s nanny, the girl was treated with great kindness and consideration, and was almost like a member of the family. Her welfare was of importance to Ursula and Sigmund.
Now Ursula said gently, ‘Teddy dear, please tell us what has happened to you.’
Theodora nodded, and words began to tumble out of her, a little breathlessly and in a great rush. ‘Out there. In the streets. The Nazis have gone crazy. They’re doing terrible things. Demolishing Jewish property. Smashing store windows, café fronts. Battering their way into apartment buildings. And they’ve burned the Central Synagogue. Burned it to the ground. I saw them doing it with my own eyes!’
‘Oh dear God! Dear God!’ Ursula cried. Her face lost all of its colour. She turned ashen, and an internal shaking seized her. Reaching out, she got hold of the back of a chair to steady herself, and that sense of dread, which she had pressed back for weeks, rose up in her and lodged like a stone weight in her chest.
Anxiously she looked at Sigmund. They stared at each other disbelievingly. They were appalled and aghast at what they had just heard, and considerably alarmed.
Turning back to Teddy, Ursula said, ‘Thank God you weren’t hurt. You’re not, are you?’
‘No, I’m not, Frau Westheim.’
‘You weren’t out alone tonight, were you, Teddy?’ Sigmund interjected.
‘I was with Willy, Herr Westheim.’
‘Willy?’ he repeated, his gaze quizzical.
‘Professor Herzog’s son,’ Ursula cut in swiftly. ‘He’s studying at the university, and he’s been taking Teddy out on her days off for about a year.’
‘Yes, of course, now I remember.’ Sigmund focused his bright blue eyes on Teddy again. ‘How did you get home? How did you manage to get through the demonstrations unscathed?’
‘On Willy’s motorcycle. He drove like a maniac. But he had to. It was awful, frightening, especially on the Ku’damm and the Fasanenstrasse.’
