Page 75 of The Gathering Storm (Morland Dynasty #36)

‘He’ll have heard all the unification arguments in his youth. It’ll be like the religion you absorb from the cradle. And Austria might be in decline, but it’s got raw materials, it’s got skilled workers and factories lying idle, it’s got large gold and foreign currency reserves. It’s a rich prize.’

Laura had lost interest and had taken the young horse off to the side of the path where some fallen saplings – victims of a recent windy period – made natural cavaletti.

‘We needn’t get involved, though. We don’t have a treaty to defend Austria, do we?’ Jessie said.

‘No,’ he said. ‘But you can see the pattern. Small states, weak states fall, or get absorbed, Germany gets bigger and stronger, and sooner or later Hitler goes for the big prize, France. Then we have to act.’ He stared ahead bleakly.

‘Five years,’ he said. ‘They took five years of my life – of our lives, yours and mine. I’m too tired to face all that again. ’

‘You won’t have to go,’ Jessie said quickly.

Their eyes met, and she knew that didn’t help – or not very much.

Thomas was nineteen, her precious son; and then there were Jeremy, John and Martin at Morland Place, Jack’s Basil and Michael, Violet’s sons.

And the girls – though they would not fight at the Front, they would suffer too, as her generation of women had suffered: privation, struggle, loss, heartbreak.

‘It can’t happen again,’ she said fiercely. ‘It mustn’t .’

‘We should have finished them the first time round,’ Bertie said. Laura came cantering back, and he made a small movement of his hand, cancelling the subject.

‘Did you see?’ Laura called, elated. ‘He did it perfectly.’

‘We saw,’ Bertie answered, smiling. ‘Do it again.’

The referendum was set to take place on the 13th of March.

On the 10th of March Adolf Hitler moved two army corps into position on the Austrian border and in the morning of the 11th demanded the cancellation of the plebiscite, the resignation of Schuschnigg, and his replacement as chancellor by the Nazi-supporting Seyss-Inquart.

Schuschnigg desperately sought support from other nations, but it was not forthcoming, and under the threat of invasion he resigned at eleven p.m. that day.

At two o’clock in the morning of the 12th, the German 8th Army crossed unopposed into Austria.

Later that morning, Seyss-Inquart assumed presidential powers as well, and raised a bill in Parliament to revoke Austria’s sovereignty and declare it to be a province of the German Reich.

‘As easily as that, Austria ceases to exist,’ Basil commented. In the Messenger newsroom, everyone was poring over bulletins and analyses coming in over the wire from correspondents in Europe and America.

‘Hitler wouldn’t have objected to the referendum if he’d thought it would go his way,’ said Jimmy Cutler. ‘He wouldn’t have needed to invade with an army.’

‘There was a telegram from Seyss-Inquart last night, saying people were rioting and he needed German troops to restore order,’ said Palmer, another junior reporter.

‘Those riots were faked,’ said Digbeth. ‘Local correspondents say they were organised by Nazi supporters to justify the invasion.’

‘Obviously, it was all planned,’ said Cutler.

But as the day went on, reports came in that surprised them.

As the German Army advanced through Austria, it had been welcomed by cheering crowds waving Nazi flags, throwing flowers, making the Fascist salute.

In the afternoon, Hitler crossed the border with a four-thousand-man bodyguard and in the evening arrived in Linz, to an hysterical welcome.

‘Look at these photos, these faces. You can see they’re smiling,’ Dickins said, of the crowds packing both sides of the road.

‘These people are really glad about it.’ They crowded into windows, lined roofs.

Boys climbed up onto lampposts and statues.

Girls ran out from the crowds to give flowers to the soldiers, women held up their babies to wave, veterans in Austrian Army uniform saluted with tears of pride.

‘We thought the majority of Austrians opposed Anschlu? . Everybody thought so. Obviously even Hitler thought so, or he wouldn’t have gone in with an army. ’

’He could have saved himself the trouble,’ Basil muttered.

On the 13th of March, Seyss-Inquart announced the abrogation of the Treaty of Saint-Germain, and the bill uniting the two states was signed into law.

Hitler continued a triumphal tour, arriving in Vienna on the 14th, where a vast crowd gathered in the Heldenplatz to hear him speak.

Newsreel images showed more beaming faces, waving flags, thousands of civilians giving the Nazi salute.

‘The oldest eastern province of the German people shall be, from this point on, the newest bastion of the German Reich,’ Hitler declared, to roars of approval.

‘I can only think,’ Dickins said, ‘there’s an element that’s always resented the fact that Bismarck excluded Austria from the original unification, and that they’ve been longing ever since to take care of unfinished business.’

‘But where does that leave us?’ Digbeth asked. ‘Aren’t we obliged to uphold Saint-Germain and Versailles?’

‘Yes, what about the League of Nations?’ Basil put in.

‘The League!’ Cutler snorted. ‘When have they ever stood up to anyone about anything? They’ll just say it’s Germany walking into its own backyard, like they said about the Rhineland.’

‘Can you see Britain and France mobilising for the sake of Austria?’ Dickins said. ‘Our governments are desperate to avoid war. Especially after this demonstration of popularity. The Nazis have covered themselves. They’ll claim they were invited in.’

‘There must be Austrians who don’t like it, though,’ Basil said.

‘Of course there are,’ Dickins replied. ‘But with the clashing boots of the 8th Army marching down your street, and your pro-Nazi neighbours screaming themselves hoarse all around you, would you go out and make a show of your opposition? As John Stuart Mill said, “Bad men need nothing more to compass their ends, than that good men should look on and do nothing.”’ Dickins reached for his cigarettes.

‘I tell you one thing,’ he said, ‘I wouldn’t like to be a Jew in Austria right now. ’

‘And what happens next?’ Basil asked after a respectful moment.

Dickins gave Basil a hard look. ‘Don’t ask questions like that, Compton. Haven’t you got any work to get on with?’

James did not know how Hélène Gilbert had found out he was back in Paris but one day in late April he received a hand- delivered invitation to one of her parties at her apartment in the rue Auber, and went along, anticipating good food and wine and interesting talk.

He was amazed to find himself lionised by Hélène, who presented him to her other guests as though he was the reason for the party, telling them he was a fine artist and a vrai homme du monde .

There was always a mixture of nationalities at Hélène’s parties, and this one seemed to feature a large number of very rich Americans.

It was not long before one woman’s polite interest in his painting wore away to reveal the base metal underneath: was it true, she asked, that he had been at the Windsor wedding?

He was trying to think of a polite way to avoid talking about it, when he saw Hélène looking at him across the room.

She gave him an encouraging nod, and he realised that this was to be his payment for the hospitality.

Reluctantly, he admitted that he had helped to organise it, and a flood of questions was released.

He answered the factual ones – what was she wearing, who else was there – and avoided the speculative ones – was he really mad about her, was she in love with him – and, finding they were quite happy making up their own stories once he’d got them started, he managed to slither away.

He sought out Hélène to expostulate, but she forestalled him. ‘ Chéri , you were so wonderful, so discreet! They are all mad for information. I will not let them bother you again tonight, but thank you for doing that for me.’

‘I didn’t have a choice, did I?’ James complained. ‘And I thought the Windsors weren’t popular in America any more, after the German tour.’

‘With the Jewish set, they are not, and the bien-pensants . But the Americans who come to Paris are in love with romance, and what could be more romantic than a king giving up his throne for the woman he loves? It is like a movie story. It costs nothing to please them, n’est-ce pas ?

And then they will feel happy and generous. ’

‘And buy your expensive paintings?’ Hélène was an art dealer, among other things.

‘ Tiens . You used not to be so cynical. But by all means, mon cher , do not speak of the German tour – that would not set the mood at all.’ She drew him a little aside.

‘Tell me, petit , what are you doing in Paris without the good Charlie? My spies tell me that you are selling paintings to the tourists, little nonsenses of wet cobbles and pink blossom.’

‘They pay the rent,’ James said.

‘But only just? They tell me you are in quite poor lodgings.’

‘Have your spies been following me about?’

‘Don’t be cross. I am interested in you. And I would like to make a proposition to you.’ James wondered if she was proposing he should become her lover. She was regarding him with a certain speculative look, and she had hinted at it the last time he had been involved with her.

‘What sort of proposition?’ he asked warily.