Page 133 of The German Mother

‘The same.’ He grinned broadly and came over and kissed her cheek.

‘What on earth are you doing here, Peter?’

‘I’ve been in a meeting with some people upstairs. I got talking about my past life before the war. We were discussing Hitler’s trial, and I mentioned your name. One of them leapt up and said: “She’s here…working downstairs in the German section”. I nearly fell off my chair.’

‘Well, I’m delighted to see you.’

‘And I, you…shall we go for a drink? There’s so much I’d like to talk to you about.’

‘Well, I was trying to do some work, but presented with such an offer how can I refuse?’

Outside in the street, Peter put his arm round her shoulders to protect her from the excitable crowds. He began to lead her down Wardour Street towards Piccadilly Circus.

‘The Coach and Horses is the other way, Peter,’ she said, half-resisting.

‘Let’s not go there…too many people, and I want you all to myself…do you mind?’

‘No, not at all.’

He hailed a taxi. ‘The Savoy, please driver.’

The two climbed in.

‘I thought we’d go to the American Bar…my treat.’

‘How lovely,’ said Leila. ‘I’ve never been before – it’s a bit out of my league.’

‘Well, then it’s time you did – and I’m glad it’s me that’s taking you.’

Walking into the grand lobby of the hotel, Leila felt uncomfortable. Elegantly dressed people stood chatting in little groups in front of the fire, or drinking cocktails on plump sofas. They looked so at ease, whereas she felt shabby in her old woollen coat and battered leather shoes.

‘Peter,’ she whispered, ‘I’m not wearing the right clothes.’

‘Don’t be absurd,’ he said, hooking his arm through hers. ‘You look wonderful. Follow me.’

He led her up a narrow flight of stairs and into the American Bar. A waiter showed them to a small table in the corner, and Peter ordered two martinis.

‘I’ve not had one of these before,’ said Leila nervously.

‘You’ll love it, and if not I’ll get you something else.’

The waiter set their drinks on the table with a flourish. Peter clinked his glass with hers. ‘Cheers, Leila – here’s to the end of the war, and to old friends.’

‘I’ll second that.’ She sipped the martini, and felt it coursing through her body. ‘Gosh, that’s better than schnapps.’

He grinned. ‘I’m glad you like it. You know, it’s extraordinary, seeing you again after all this time, but it’s like the years have just melted away.’

For a moment they sat gazing at one another, both recalling a past time when they had been so young, united in opposition to Nazism.

‘Those days of the trial… feels like another world, doesn’t it?’ she said at last. ‘Can I ask…what were you discussing with the people upstairs – are you joining us in broadcasting?’

‘No.’ He laughed. ‘I was upstairs with the Office of War guys talking about another project. I joined the army at the start of the war, and I’ve been all over Europe.My foreign languages made me quite useful for the OSS,’ he added in a whisper.

‘Ah, black ops. I never got involved in that. It was just plain old-fashioned British and American propaganda for me.’ She smiled. ‘But I wish I’d known you were in England – we could have met up before.’

‘Well, to be honest, this is the first time I’ve been back here in quite a while. And how about you? How did you end up here, working for the Yanks?’

‘It’s a long story…’