Page 106 of The German Mother

Clara shrugged. ‘Well, I don’t find them difficult…besides, they need to be ready for their new school, don’t they, Mutti?’

Minki hugged her daughter. ‘They do, darling. And well done…I’m very impressed. Now, I’m just going out shopping for the last few bits and pieces for our trip. I won’t be long.’

‘When are we leaving for Grandpa’s house?’ asked Clara.

‘Early tomorrow morning…it will take most of the day to get there by train.’

‘I can’t wait,’ said Willie eagerly. ‘I love Grandpa’s house. It’s full of great stuff – lots of old toys, and secret places in the attic.’

‘Will I be there for my birthday?’ asked Clara.

‘Yes…I expect so. We’re going to stay with Grandpa until the bombing stops.’

‘Can I have a party at Grandpa’s house? I’m going to be ten, after all.’

‘Of course you can have a party – with cake and presents and everything. But it’s not for another couple of months…we’ve got Christmas first, remember.’

‘Will Dad come down and see us at Christmas?’ asked Felix.

‘Yes, of course – if he can get away from work. Now, you three, I’d better be going. Be good boys, and do what Clara tells you.’

As she pulled the nursery door closed, Minki heard a chorus of groans as Clara announced they were going to do long division.

Minki returned home a few hours later, to find the drive to her house blocked by a large grey single-decker bus. Its windows had been blacked out so it was impossible to see inside, but it looked like a modified postal bus. She stopped the car and waited for the bus to drive off.

Suddenly, to her horror, she saw Ida hauling Clara out of the house towards the bus. The child was screaming and trying to pull away, but Ida had a firm grip on her arm with one hand; in her other was a small suitcase. Minki leapt out of the car, but before she could reach Clara the child had already been pushed inside. Minki rushed to the bus doors, but they closed in her face. She could still see Clara, standing on tiptoe, peering out through the windscreen. As soon as she saw her mother, Clara banged her fists on the glass, screaming: ‘Mutti, Mutti…’

‘Clara… Get out… get out!’ screamed Minki.

But before the child could even get near the doors, a tall burly man rose from his seat next to the driver, grabbed hold of Clara and bundled her away inside the bus. The driver put the engine into gear and, with a cloud of exhaust smoke, drove off.

In a state of shock, Minki was temporarily rooted to the spot, unable to move, watching helplessly as the bus disappeared down the road towards Berlin. But within seconds she raced back to her car and sped down the road, determined to catch up with the bus. She managed to reach it, but had to stop to allow a long tram to snake its way between them. By the time the tram had finally passed by, the bus had disappeared. Minki drove on frantically searching the city, but after a couple of hours finally had to accept that the bus had gone – and with it, her daughter.

Minki arrived home in utter despair, only to find Ida crumpled on the hall floor, weeping in the arms of the housemaid. Incensed, Minki hauled Ida to her feet and slapped her face. ‘What have you done, you wicked girl? Why did you put her on that bus? Where are they taking her?’

‘I’m sorry, madam, but the master told me to do it,’ replied Ida, rubbing her cheek. ‘After you’d left this morning he telephoned saying Clara had to go away to a special school. He asked me to pack a small bag with clothes for her. He said it had all been arranged and he promised you knew all about it.’

‘Of course I didn’t know about it!’ screamed Minki. ‘I’ve just spent the morning buying her a new coat. Our bags are all packed for our trip tomorrow – they’re right there in front of you.’

Ida, fresh tears now spilling down her cheeks, mumbled repeatedly: ‘I’m sorry…I’m sorry.’

Minki realised that if she was to get any sense out of Ida, she should change tack. She took a deep breath, lowered her voice and took the girl gently by the shoulders. ‘Look, Ida, I’m not saying it was your fault, but where is this school, do you know?’

Ida shook her head. ‘I’m sorry…I just did as I was told. I packed her favourite toys, though…’

Realising she needed some answers – and fast – Minki stormed out of the house, got back into the car and drove off to Max’s office at the Potsdam studios.

‘Where’s my husband?’ she demanded of the receptionist.

‘He’s in the viewing theatre, Frau vonZeller, but he’s very busy. He left instructions not to be disturbed.’

Minki stormed out of the reception area, ran down a long corridor, and flung open the doors of the viewing room. There were Max and Goebbels sitting together in the front row, their faces lit up by the screen in front of them. ‘What have you done with my daughter?’ she screamed. ‘Where has she been taken?’

Max stood up, signalling to the projectionist to stop the film. As the theatre lights went on, Max held his arms out to her, and tried to embrace her. ‘Minki, darling…’

But Minki angrily shook herself free. ‘You bastard…what have you done?’

She then turned to Goebbels: ‘This is all your fault – yours and Hitler’s and those evil scientists you listen to,’ she shouted. ‘Where have you sent my baby girl?’