Barbara Taylor Bradford - The Women in His Life

At one moment, Ursula turned to him, and said slowly, ‘Stop trying to protect me by not telling me what you truly think, Sigi. I’m far too intelligent to be duped, especially by my own husband, a man I’ve known since childhood.’

‘Yes, you are,’ he said with a faint sigh. ‘And I only meant the best for you.’

She tried to smile, unsuccessfully. ‘As always, my dearest Sigi, as always.’

Taking hold of his hand she held it very tightly in hers and after a while she said in a voice choked with emotion, ‘We have to leave, Sigi … leave this house … leave the villa in Wannsee … leave the bank … leave the art collection … leave all of our possessions … and go. We have to leave Berlin, Sigi. We have to get out of Germany.’

‘Yes, I know,’ he said with resignation. ‘I’ve known it for a long time, really, but I suppose I haven’t wanted to face it.’ He sighed again. ‘The entire family must get out. And Theodora. We cannot leave her behind, that would be unthinkable. She will come with us, and I must get exit visas for everyone, and entry visas for another country.’

‘How?’

Indeed how, he thought, but said, ‘To be honest, Ursula, I don’t know … yet. But I will. And very soon. Certainly I’ve got one thing in my favour.’

‘What is that, Sigi?’

‘Money.’

‘Entschuldigen Sie, gnädige Frau,’ the butler said, excusing himself for disturbing her.

Ursula looked across at him from the Louis XVI writing desk at the far end of the bedroom, where she sat working on some papers. ‘That’s perfectly all right, Walter. What is it?’

‘Die Gräfin von Tiegal ist da, gnädige Frau.’

Ursula was momentarily startled. ‘The Countess von Tiegal is here?’ she repeated, making it sound like a question.

Walter nodded, ‘Ja, gnädige Frau.’

‘Please show her into the library, and I’ll be down in a moment. Offer her coffee, and I’ll have a cup, too. Thank you, Walter.’

‘Gnädige Frau,’ he murmured, inclining his head, backing out, and quietly closing the door behind him.

Ursula slid her papers into the top drawer of the desk, locked it and pocketed the key. She rose, smoothing down the skirt of her dark-grey woollen dress with both hands as she walked over to the dressing table, where she glanced at herself in the mirror. Her face was drawn, her mouth pale and tense, and there were dark circles under her eyes. This hardly surprised her, in view of the events of the previous night. She had not slept, had lain awake until the first light, worrying and pondering their predicament and their future. Sigmund had not slept either; he had risen at six and gone off to the bank very early. He had already spoken to her on the telephone several times since leaving the house, keeping his promise to stay in touch, to inform her of any new developments after the night of havoc in the city.

She ran a comb through her short blonde hair, smoothed a hand over it abstractedly, then walked to the door, looking at her wristwatch as she did. It was still early, not quite nine o’clock. There was no question in her mind why Renata was downstairs, asking to see her. She had come out of genuine concern for them, and Ursula was immeasurably touched by the gesture.

A moment later she was hurrying down the stairs, crossing the vast hall and pushing open the double doors which led into the library.

Renata was standing looking out of the window, and she swung around when Ursula entered and ran to meet her. She caught hold of her almost roughly, hugged her close, saying, ‘Oh, Ursi, Ursi,’ several times before releasing her. ‘Forgive me for bursting in on you like this, unannounced,’ Renata went on, ‘but I wanted to speak to you urgently, and our phone isn’t working. For some reason, it seems to be out of order this morning.’

‘It was good of you to come, Ren, and I’m glad you’re here. You always make me feel better. Walter is bringing us coffee. Come.’

Arms linked, the two of them walked over to the Biedermeier sofa, where they sat down. Drawing back and looking at her closely, Renata said, ‘Of course you know that last night’s riots were not only in Berlin, but took place all over Germany and Austria as well. Yes, I can see from your face that you do.’

‘The whole thing is incredible. Hard to believe.’

‘And even harder to stomach! You’ve seen the newspapers? Heard the radio?’

‘The papers yes, but I haven’t listened to the radio.’ Speaking quickly, Ursula explained how they had learned about the demonstrations from Theodora in the middle of the night, and recounted the girl’s experiences.

Renata had paled as she listened, and she exclaimed, ‘Teddy and her friend were extremely lucky, they could easily have been killed. Quite a few people were.’

Ursula stared at her. ‘Jews were killed.’

‘Yes.’ Renata leaned closer. ‘Listen to me, Ursula, you must –’ She broke off as Walter knocked, opened the door, and came gliding in with the coffee tray.

‘Danke schön, Walter,’ Ursula said.

The butler deposited the silver tray on the occasional table in front of the sofa and discreetly withdrew.

In hushed tones, Renata continued, with some urgency, ‘You must make plans to leave Germany. It’s not safe for you here anymore.’

‘I don’t think it has been for a long time. We should have gone last year, even the year before, perhaps. But we believed in German law and order, and we thought we were safe. We also drew comfort from the belief that Hitler couldn’t last, couldn’t possibly stay in power. Many Germans did, and not all of them Jews, you and Reinhard included. But we were all wrong. Now I don’t think there is any turning back. This is the end. For Jews anyway.’

‘For us all.’ Renata looked at her intently, her dark eyes very bright, and blazing with sudden anger. ‘That damned megalomaniac Hitler is leading us into a dark abyss of brutality and murder. Germany is being destroyed from within by him and his depraved cohorts. Why, they’re nothing but terrorists, for God’s sake!’

‘I read in the papers that the Nazis are saying last night’s demonstrations were spontaneous. That they were provoked,’ Ursula said. ‘And all because of that seventeen-year-old German Jewish refugee living in Paris, Herschel Grynszpan, who shot and killed Ernst vom Rath, the third secretary at the German Embassy in Paris. You see, Renata, they’re blaming the Jews yet again.’

‘We read that story, but Reinhard is convinced the riots were not spontaneous, that they were cleverly and expertly orchestrated by Heydrich and the SS. And he’s right, I’m certain. What’s more, we both believe there are bound to be additional demonstrations, and many other acts of brutality directed against Jews.’ Renata shook her head, finished in a worried voice, ‘We think Hitler wants to kill every Jew in the land, Ursi.’

‘But that’s inconceivable,’ Ursula stammered. ‘How can Hitler kill an entire people? Millions of people. No one could do that …’ Her voice trailed off helplessly.

‘He aims to try.’ Renata’s tone was more apprehensive than ever. ‘Read Mein Kampf again. And believe it this time.’

‘We are Germans,’ Ursula began, and stopped abruptly.

She clenched her hands together and took a deep breath. ‘Our families, Sigi’s and mine, have been here for hundreds and hundreds of years …’ Once more she came to a halt as her voice cracked, and she looked away, steadying herself. ‘But we must leave our country … yes … we must leave this country we love … if we are to survive …’

Feelings of compassion and loving friendship washed over Renata, and she reached out, put her hand on Ursula’s arm consolingly. Ursula turned, stared into her face, and they shared a look that was very direct and intimate and full of truth.