Page 86 of The German Mother

‘Yes, madam.’

‘We’ll be fourteen in all. I’ve got a table plan and will write out some place cards this morning. And please use the best silver cutlery and crystal…all right?’

The maid bobbed her head.

Once she was satisfied with the arrangements, Minki went upstairs to Clara’s room. Ida, the nursery maid, was already running a bath for the little girl.

‘I’ll bathe her today, Ida. You can go and help Lena downstairs.’

While the child splashed happily in the bubbles, Minki mused on her conversation with Max that morning. His closeness to Goebbels, and his complete lack of criticism of the regime, disturbed her. But what could she do about it?

‘Come on,’ she said to Clara eventually. ‘You’ve played long enough. Time to get dressed.’

Clara obediently held her arms up to her mother, who lifted her out of the bath, wrapping her in a towel.

‘I love you Mutti,’ said Clara, nestling into her mother’s neck.

‘And I love you too.’ The intensity of her feelings for her daughter sometimes caught her off guard. As a young woman she could never have imagined loving someone so completely. But since giving up work, and spending most of her time with Clara, the bond between them had grown stronger by the day. There were times when she physically ached with love.

Clara toddled into her bedroom and pulled open the wardrobe door, pointing to a pink party dress.

‘No dress today, darling, something more practical, I think.’

Minki took out a pair of corduroy trousers and jumper from the child’s wardrobe and, once Clara was dressed, picked her up and carried her to her own room.

‘You play here for a while, darling. I’ve got a letter to write.’ Minki sat down at her desk in the window, overlooking the garden.

It had been months since she had written to Leila. She had never received a reply to her earlier letter, and now she feared Leila had not forgiven her for abandoning Viktor. Perhaps she never would, and that thought – that their friendship might be over – brought tears to her eyes. She picked up her pen, but didn’t know where to start. She had already apologised, and what more could she do…what more could she say?

Clara stood up and nestled against her mother’s side. ‘Why you crying, Mutti?’

‘Because my best friend and I don’t speak to each other any more.’

‘What’s a best friend?’

‘Someone you love, whatever happens.’

‘Like me?’

Minki pulled Clara up onto her lap. ‘Yes – exactly like that.’

While Clara ate lunch in the kitchen with Ida, Minki laid out the engraved place cards on the dining table. Most of the guests were industrialists who had donated substantial sums to the Party. Minki had met most of them once or twice, and found them to be self-satisfied bores, with dull wives. But as she placed Goebbels’ card next to her own, she shuddered at the thought of making polite conversation to him all evening. Checking Max’s table plan for a last time, she noted his instructions:

Professor Staemmler to be seated opposite Goebbels – orders of JG’.

The name Staemmler seemed familiar, but Minki couldn’t recall where she’d come across it before.

As she finished laying the place cards, Clara toddled into the dining room. She gazed at the silver and crystal gleaming on the table, and clapped her hands delightedly. ‘Party, Mama…I want dress for party.’

‘Now, Clara, I’ve already explained. The party is just for grown-ups. You’ll be in bed when the guests arrive.’

Clara’s face fell. ‘But I like parties.’

‘I know, darling.’ Seeing the distress on her daughter’s face, Minki made a suggestion. ‘Why don’t you go and put on your best dress and then you can decorate the Christmas tree with me?’

Clara beamed excitedly and scampered out of the room. Reaching the stairs, she climbed them rapidly, as she always did, on her hands and knees. Minki followed her up to the nursery, opened the wardrobe and took out a new dress she had bought the child for Christmas. It was red velvet with a white lace collar, and Clara clapped her hands delightedly as her mother helped her into it.

Suitably pacified, Clara and her mother went downstairs to the drawing room, where Lena had laid out a basket of decorations in front of the Christmas tree. Clara rushed delightedly towards the basket and minutely examined the multicoloured ornaments.