Page 18

The lie slipped effortlessly from her tongue. She would rather their daughter didn’t get to see his moods; better to let her hold on to the childhood images of him that she hoped Astrid would remember. Though she wondered if it was already too late. She took a sip of her wine and sat at her seat at the table, the furthest from him.

He sat at the head, as always, and looked around the room as if deliberately avoiding eye contact.

“How was your day?” she asked, since he seemed to have nothing to say.

“My day is not of concern.” He finished his drink and poured himself another.

How did she broach the topic of Müller with him? Her heart pounded harder than it had when the officer had almost caught her concern for Fraulein Brun. If either Müller or Gerhard suspected she was fraternising, she could be shot as a French sympathiser, even though she had done nothing wrong except for perhaps showing empathy for another human being’s suffering.

She straightened her back in the seat. “Astrid has had a good day. Lakritze has cheered her up no end.”

“Hmm. When are we going to eat?”

She went into the kitchen, served the food onto their plates, and brought them back to the table.

“Where are the Frenchwomen? This is their job, not yours.”

She set the plate in front of him. “I thought this might be nice for a change.” She had hoped to talk to him about Christmas and whether, since they were together this year and hadn’t been for the previous two, they might spend some time together as a family to celebrate. That, and to talk about Müller.

He started eating without regard for what she’d said.

She picked at her food, even though it tasted good. “Is it necessary for Müller to be here?” she asked.

He stopped the fork before it got to his mouth and placed the cutlery on his plate. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, slid his tongue back and forth across his teeth, smacked his lips. “Do you think he would be here if it wasn’t?”

She lowered her eyes to her food. “I don’t like him.”

Gerhard stood up quickly, flinging his chair backwards. She trembled inside and hoped it didn’t show. “He’s not here to be liked. He is here to protect you and Astrid.”

She stood up and held his gaze. “He scares me. Is that what you want?”

“Fear is the antidote to stupidity,” he said.

“Really? You want your daughter to be brought up fearing every man she meets? Müller is a bully.”

“Hauptmann Müller is a decorated officer who is held in high esteem.” He stepped towards her, pure rage in his eyes.

“Then surely he should be out there fighting the war rather than here monitoring my every move. It’s like we’re in a prison, Gerhard.”

He slapped her across the face before she had time to move away. Without thinking, she slapped him back. “Don’t you dare raise your hand to me,” she said, her insides shaking with rage and regret. She would not let him bully her, no matter the cost. Her knees threatened to buckle when he put his hand on his pistol. “Go on, shoot me. Then you will have to explain to our daughter that you murdered me.” She started to sob. “What has happened to you, Gerhard? This is not who you were.”

He relaxed his grip on the handle of the gun and averted her gaze. “This is who I need to be for us to win the war, Johanna. You would rather Germany lost? You are ignorant and naïve, and you think the women who work here…” He pointed in the direction of the kitchen. “You think they wouldn’t kill you in an instant?”

Johanna shook her head. “You are wrong, Gerhard. War makes men crazy. I do not need a guard in the house, and I do not want Müller anywhere near either of us.” She could hardly say she didn’t want him near the Frenchwomen, though she was sure he had inflicted the injuries on Fraulein Brun the day after Johanna had arrived, and that alone was a good-enough reason to get rid of him.

“Müller is staying. Get used to it.” He picked up his glass and filled it. “By the way, you should know we are expected for dinner with Generalmajor Bauer and his wife on New Year’s Eve.” He looked at her. “Remember, not everyone will be tolerant of your opinions, Johanna. The generalmajor will not be as forgiving as me if you challenge him.” He turned with his glass and left the dining room.

She slumped onto the seat and stared at the picture of his father on the wall. If she had known Gerhard would turn out just like him, she would never have married him. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and even though she wanted to scream she felt too deflated to respond with such force.

The plates of food had barely been touched. Lakritze and the chickens would feed well on the scraps tomorrow. She finished her glass of wine and poured herself another. Once she’d finished the bottle, she took everything through to the kitchen. She would leave the dishes for the Frenchwomen. She was sure they wouldn’t mind.

As she lay in bed, in the eerie silence the snow had created, she couldn’t stop thinking about the way Fraulein Brun had looked at her, the yearning for understanding in her dark brown eyes that had touched Johanna deeply. She recalled the softness of her skin and strength in her hand, and the memory triggered the same electric response as she’d had then. She hadn’t felt anything like it before. It left her vulnerable, caught her off guard. What to do with such feelings?

She might be afraid of what Hauptmann Müller was capable of, but that paled by comparison with the connection she had with the dark-haired, dark-eyed fraulein. She would have to guard her emotions well and keep an appropriate distance from Fraulein Brun, so as not to give Müller anything to be suspicious about. He was one of those officers who didn’t need a reason to inflict pain on others; he probably sought pleasure from it, and that made him the worst kind of dangerous.

She closed her eyes and allowed her thoughts to drift. The least Johanna could do was to repay Fraulein Brun’s kindness towards her and Astrid. It cost nothing to be kind, and she wanted Astrid to know compassion rather than just the hate they were surrounded by.

9.