Barbara Taylor Bradford - The Women in His Life

Tears welled up in Renata when she saw the anguish casting a deep shadow across Ursula’s face, the profound sorrow darkening her soft, grey-blue eyes. ‘I don’t want anything to happen to you!’ she cried fiercely, her voice choked with anxiety. ‘I love and care for you, and for Sigi and little Maxim. So does Reinhard. We will help you in any way we can, do anything to help you leave Germany safely. And you must leave, darling, you know you must … to save yourselves.’

‘Yes.’ Ursula sat staring into the distance, her eyes focused on the pale blue sky outside the tall window, and with an unexpected rush of clarity she finally came to understand what it was that had haunted her for so long a time. For a while she was unable to say anything, so shaken and alarmed was she, but at last she turned her head and looked deeply into Renata’s eyes once more.

Renata felt as if Ursula was staring into her soul, and she shivered slightly, and said, ‘Why are you looking at me like that? Whatever is it?’

‘A moment ago I said that it was inconceivable … that Hitler cannot kill an entire people. But he can. Oh yes, he can. I know that now. The knowledge is deep within me, in my bones, in the very pores of my skin. For months I’ve had desperate feelings gnawing at me … the ones I’ve spoken to you about. I thought they were feelings of apprehension and dread, but they weren’t. What I’ve harboured within me all this time is an overwhelming sense of doom. We are doomed, my family and I.’

‘My dearest, my most beloved friend –’ Renata found she was unable to continue, so overcome was she by the pain she felt for Ursula. What she was facing was monstrous: upheaval, flight, exile. But if she and Sigi and little Maxim stayed they would be hounded, persecuted and ultimately harmed. The evil and injustice of it filled Renata with rage, and the rage swamped her and she cried passionately, ‘Those Nazi bastards! This shouldn’t be happening! It shouldn’t! It’s wrong!’

‘Don’t, darling. Please don’t. We’ll be all right. Somehow.’

Renata reached for Ursula’s hand and clasped it in hers; they sat quietly, neither of them able to continue the conversation for a while.

Eventually Ursula cleared her throat and said in a voice that was oddly calm, ‘Sigi does have a plan of action, you know. He’s working on it right now. He has a good contact, apparently. He’s hoping to buy exit visas for us. And new passports.’ She paused, then went on, ‘You see, last month we had to take our passports to be stamped … with a J … for Jew.’

Startled and shocked, Renata looked at her in consternation. ‘How ridiculous! What evil nonsense!’

‘Yes, but the Nazis have made this a law, and we had to comply.’

Renata made a supreme effort to suppress her immense anger, control her flaring emotions, thinking that if Ursula could be so brave, so contained, then so must she. She even managed to push a smile onto her face, when she said, ‘Reinhard and I want you to come out to the Mark Brandenburg and stay at the Schloss. Until you leave Germany it will be much safer for you at our country estate than in Berlin.’

When Ursula did not immediately respond, Renata said, ‘Look,’ and took hold of her arm, brought her face closer to her friend’s, ‘it could take Sigi several weeks to get the necessary documents together, to arrange everything to facilitate your departure.’

‘It might, that’s true. And thank you for inviting us to the Schloss. It’s so kind and thoughtful of you. But I can’t leave Sigi alone here in Berlin. You know how much he needs me. We’ve never really been apart since we were children, except when I was at school in England with you and Arabella.’

‘He can see you at weekends. He can drive down to the Mark with us every Friday afternoon. Please say yes.’

Ursula remained uncertain. ‘Let me think about it, and I’ll discuss it with Sigi.’

The telephone began to ring and Ursula rushed to answer it, wanting to pick up before the butler did.

‘Hello?’ she said, fully expecting to hear her husband’s voice, but it was Arabella von Wittingen at the other end. She listened for several moments, then murmured, ‘Thank you, Belle, and I’m all right, really.’ She listened again, then quickly explained, ‘Their phone is out of order. Ren is here. Do you wish to speak with her?’ Ursula stood with the receiver pressed to her ear, nodding her head several times before she said, ‘Yes, Arabella, that’s fine. Goodbye.’

‘She’s coming over here, isn’t she?’ Renata stated as Ursula put down the phone.

‘Of course. I suppose we both knew she would. And I’m sure you’ve gathered that she’s been trying to telephone you.’

Renata nodded.

‘Arabella is in her most Bolshy and defiant mood this morning,’ Ursula confided. ‘She insists that the three of us go out to lunch. To the Adlon Hotel.’

Straightening up on the sofa, Renata threw her a questioning look. ‘Are you up to it? And do you think we should?’

Ursula was thoughtful, wondering whether or not it would be a wise thing to do. And then she, who of late had sometimes been fearful about going out, suddenly had no qualms at all. Her own sense of defiance and her pride made her say, ‘Of course I’m up to it. And why shouldn’t we go to lunch at the Adlon? We’re as entitled as anyone else, aren’t we?’

‘Indeed we are!’ Renata agreed. ‘Let’s do it!’

Ursula walked back to the sofa, stood looking down at the silver tray, shaking her head. ‘We’ve been so busy talking we never drank the coffee, and now it’s probably quite cold. Shall I ask Walter to brew some more?’

‘Not right now, thanks. Let’s wait until Arabella gets here. You know what she’s like about her morning tea. She’s bound to ask you for a pot, so we might as well share it with her.’ Renata rose, strolled over to the window, glanced out into the Tiergartenstrasse, then swung to face Ursula. ‘I heard on the radio earlier that the Nazis have already given last night a name. They’re calling it Kristallnacht … crystal night. Because of all the broken glass, I suppose.’ Renata shuddered, and grimaced in utter disgust. ‘How despicable the Nazis are! Imagine using a pretty and poetic name like that to describe a night of such unspeakable savagery!’ She shuddered again. ‘It’s beyond comprehension.’

‘Everything that’s happening is beyond comprehension,’ Ursula said.

The Tiergarten was deserted.

As Sigmund walked down the path he realised it would not be anything but deserted in bitterly cold weather such as they were having in Berlin this December. And that was precisely the reason it had been chosen for the rendezvous. A park without people was a safe park.

He had no idea whom he was to meet.

Irina had slipped a note to him two nights ago, during drinks at the von Tiegals’ house, where he and Ursula were attending a small dinner party. Within seconds of pocketing it he had excused himself, hurried to the bathroom in order to read it, impatient to know what it said.

The note had been brief and to the point.

Tiergarten. Saturday. 11 a.m. Hofjägeralle side. For identification your contact will say: The blue gentians are not in bloom today. Destroy this note.

After reading the note a second time, he had set fire to the bit of paper with his cigarette lighter, held it until it was almost burnt through, then dropped it into the toilet bowl and flushed it away. Returning to the living room, he had found Irina in conversation with Reinhard, and he had simply touched her elbow, as if by accident, to let her know he had read the note and destroyed it. He knew better than to discuss anything in front of others, even their closest and most trustworthy friends. A slip of the tongue might put others in grave danger.