Pierre Frei - Berlin - A Novel

'Paul and Marianne send apologies. Hay fever.'

'Poor things. Billie, Fritz, give a paw. This is my friend Henriette von Aichborn, but you can call her Detta. Sybille and Friedrich von Coberg are a genuine princely couple, I'd have you know.'

'Only to impress the customers. We have a small art gallery in Charlottenburg.' said Prince Coberg apologetically.

'Ah, Madame et Monsieur Montfort, quel plaisir. C'est mon amie Mademoiselle von Aichborn. Elle reste chez moi. Detta, the Montforts import the very best wines from Burgundy.'

And it's not easy with these new restrictions on foreign exchange.' Monsieur Montfort spoke in faultless German.

'German folk drink German wine!' cried a smart young man, raising his hand in a mock Hitler salute.

'Behave yourself, Egon,' Miriam told him. 'Detta, this is Egon Jeschke, reporter for Berliner Zeitung, even livelier when he writes than when he's talking nonsense. All Berlin enjoys his stories.'

Egon Jeschke made a face. With the exception of Dr Otto Dietrich, the new Reich press chief. I wondered in an article whether his legs are as beautiful as the pins of his famous niece in Hollywood, and was told I could leave out Jewish jokes like that in future. I think I'll play safe and switch to the sports section. They don't expect you to be funny there.'

More guests arrived, to be vivaciously greeted by Miriam and lavishly plied with champagne. Detta wandered around, watching them and picking up scraps of their conversation. 'That man Hitler ought to have been made Transport Minister instead of Reich Chancellor. He's mainly interested in building motorways.' The speaker had dark hair and slender artist's hands, and was talking to the Cobergs. Detta joined them.

'This is Detta von Aichborn: the Prince introduced her. And this is Dr Felix Gerhard.'

A doctor of medicine?'

'No, a D.Phil. I'm a composer. I write film scores for the UfA studios.'

'For as long as they'll let him,' Friedrich von Coberg remarked. 'Heaven knows what those Nazis have against our Jewish friends. How are the theatre, the movies, the cabaret to survive without Reinhardt, Hollander, Spolianski, Lang, Weill and all the rest?'

Dr Gerhard gave a thin smile. 'The last Jew in our family was called Schmuel Gelbfisz. He was my grandfather. He wore a caftan and ringlets, and the Tsar's Cossacks killed him. After that my father fled with us to Posen in the German Empire. He had the whole family baptized, and our name's been Gerhard ever since. My father rose to the rank of artillery captain in the war and won the Iron Cross. I studied in Breslau and took my doctorate in Berlin. I'm a good German, a good taxpayer, and a good friend of the actress Emmy Sonnemann, who's engaged to Goring, prime minister of Prussia. General Goring takes a lively interest in cultural life, and Emmy's going to introduce me to him.'

Dr Gerhard paused, and added cautiously, Anyway, film scores will be needed outside Germany too. I've written to my friend Lubitsch in America, just in case.'

'Detta, darling, you absolutely must meet David Floyd-Orr.' Miriam had a lanky, youngish man in tow. 'David, this is Detta von Aichborn,' she told him, speaking English. Detta fell into the same language.

'How do you do, Mr Floyd-Orr?' she said, shaking hands.

'David's something at the British Embassy,' Miriam informed her, before moving on.

'How do you do. Miss von Aichborn? I'm third secretary, to be precise. Which leaves me with a lot of time to explore this marvellous town.' The Englishman had unruly red hair and a few freckles under his grey-green eyes. He was casually elegant, and unusually clad for the Berlin of 1935, in a pair of pale-grey flannels and a double-breasted blazer, with a button pulling it in slightly at the waist. A German tailor would have ironed out that effect without mercy. 'Perhaps you could show me around?' he suggested, looking at her with admiration.

'I'd be happy to, but you probably know Berlin much better than I do. I'm only just up from the country.'

A country girl, how wonderful!'

A rustic is more like it.'

'Would you have lunch with me tomorrow?'

'Oh no, Mr Floyd-Orr, that's too sudden for me. I mean, I don't even know you.'

And if you refuse my invitation you won't get to know me. What a pity that would be. You'd regret it.'

'You're not at all conceited, by any chance?'

'Not in the least. Just convinced of my inner worth, which generally reveals itself to good effect over lunch in charming company. So how about it?'

'The answer is still no — this time.'

'What about next time?'

Miriam interrupted them. 'Herr Karch, what an honour!' She hurried to meet a gentleman with a small silver pin sparkling on his dark suit. 'Come in and I'll introduce you to some people. Let's start with my friend here: Under-Secretary Aribert Karch — Baroness Henriette von Aichborn.'

A slight click of the heels, a damp kiss of her hand, while Detta looked down at a short parting, straight as a matchstick, and when the man had straightened up into a pair of grey eyes behind rimless glasses. Miriam nodded at them and disappeared. The Englishman had gone away. Oh dear, I've put him off me, thought Detta. She pointed at two little silver lightning flashes on Karch's lapels. Are you with the electricity works?'

'I belong to the Circle of Friends of the ReichsfUhrer SS,' he informed her, looking important.

A Circle of Friends, how nice. I expect you do all sorts of things together. Do you go for expeditions? Or maybe you go to the pictures together?' Karch was struggling for words. Detta saved him the trouble. 'I don't really want to know the details. Come along, Herr Karch, let's find something to drink. Do you like champagne? And I've heard that the smoked Rhine salmon is excellent.'

After you, Baroness.' Karch followed her to the buffet. He pointed to a very good-looking, youngish man in a light-coloured suit. 'Isn't that Erik de Winter the film actor?'

'It could be. Everyone meets at Miriam's.'

But luckily the Goldbergs and their like are not the majority. Germans like you and me predominate, Baroness.' Karch put a salmon roll in his mouth and dabbed his lips with a pure-white handkerchief, which he had taken from his breast pocket. After using it he tucked it into his left sleeve. All this was done with rather too much nonchalance, in the same way that he held the foot of his champagne glass between thumb and forefinger rather than clutching it by the stem.

'It would be a great pleasure if I could invite you here again in a few weeks' time.'

'Oh, now I know who you are. You're from the Ministry of Economic Affairs, and you're taking over Miriam's apartment.'

'I shall be giving a reception when I move in.' Karch cleared his throat. 'Exclusively for German guests. I am planning to have a string quartet playing German music, and I shall serve German sparkling wine and a few choice tidbits.'

'German caviar, perhaps?' Detta couldn't help saying, and earned herself a suspicious look from the under-secretary. She watched Miriam, who was tossing back glass after glass of champagne, with concern.

Hella Siebert came back from the guests' lavatory looking distraught. She began speaking to her husband in great agitation, but Detta couldn't hear what she was saying. Miriam, swaying, climbed on a chair. 'My dear friends!' she cried at the top of her voice. They all looked up at her. I want to say goodbye to you, dear friends. I am leaving in an hour's time. And I owe some among you special thanks. The Sieberts, for instance. Gottfried and Hella, thank you so much for all the efforts you've been making recently to have me thrown out of the Red and White, because someone like me is not welcome as a club member now. But for me they'd never have accepted a couple of little social climbers like you.' Gottfried Siebert went red in the face. His wife began to sob.