Page 30 of The Pianist's Wife
‘Ahh, the happy couple has arrived,’ Hans said, coming over to them and shaking Fred’s hand. ‘Everyone is looking forward to hearing you tonight, Fred. It’s an honour to have you here.’
‘The honour is all mine, and I’m very much looking forward to playing,’ he replied. ‘Would you mind terribly if I asked you to look after my wife in my absence?’
Gisele came over then, taking Amira by the arm and kissing her cheek, before walking her away. ‘I shall do the looking-after,’ she announced, before squeezing Amira’s arm tightly and whispering: ‘I’ve missed you. I’m so sorry about the other day, what I said—’
‘I’ve missed you, too,’ Amira said. And she had. Terribly. No matter what had been said or how she’d felt on the day, two weeks without Gisele had been torturous, and she knew how hard it must have been having her mother arrive.
‘Can I introduce you to some of the other wives?’ Gisele asked, before adding, ‘They’re all looking at us and no doubt wondering who you are.’
‘Are you certain—’
‘You belong here,’ Gisele whispered to her. ‘Everyone here adores Fred, and as such they will adore his new wife. I promise. This is all part of hiding in plain sight, am I right?’
Amira knew she was right – the deeper she went into this world, the fewer questions that would ever be asked of her – but it didn’t make being there any easier.
Gisele bent her head to Amira’s as she followed along beside her, smiling politely at the handful of women gathered. They all wore beautiful, modern dresses made of fine silks and satins, nothing at all like the practical clothing that Hitler encouraged German women to wear, and diamonds glittered under the lights at their ears and collarbones. She was thankful that she’d acquiesced and worn the diamond pendant necklace that had once belonged to her mother, after debating whether to do so for at least an hour before they left home. It was only when Fred had walked in to her room looking for her, a glass of whisky in hand and dressed in a tuxedo, and told her how perfect the necklace was, that she’d relented. She was his wife now, and she had to look the part, even if it meant unstitching jewels from inside her coat; which she’d done to safeguard herself against the very people she was now surrounded by.
‘Ladies, I have someone to introduce to you all,’ Gisele said, and Amira was amazed at how effortlessly she slipped into the role of SS wife. The women gathered were married to men who held very high ranks, and Amira imagined they’d faint if they realised they were in the company of a Mischling.
‘You’re married to the pianist?’ one of the women asked, her eyebrows pointed.
‘I am,’ Amira said, forcing herself to project her voice instead of shrinking away as she wanted to. ‘Frederick and I were married just a fortnight ago.’
The women’s eyes all widened at the news she was a newly-wed, followed by question after question and then whispers of advice, as if they were talking to a close friend.
‘Tell us how you met such a dashing musician?’
‘Oh, surely you don’t want to hear all that,’ Amira said.
‘We do!’ said one of the women, whose name she’d already forgotten. ‘Was it love at first sight?’
‘Actually, it was,’ Amira said, blushing but knowing that it would only add to her story. ‘I recently lost my father, and I often walk around the park when I’m lost in my thoughts. One day I tripped and fell, and would you believe that Fred was the one to help me up from the ground?’
The women all looked enraptured with her story, and she glanced at Gisele before continuing.
‘He asked me if he could buy me coffee, and we spent all afternoon talking,’ she said. ‘And here we are today.’
Amira’s heart was racing as she was saved from having to talk any more by the women all cooing and starting to share their own stories, and she was relieved when the men finally fell silent, causing a hush to immediately fall over the women surrounding her too. She smiled and turned to look at Frederick, who was in position at the piano now, his music open in front of him, fingers poised over the keys. But she quickly realised it wasn’t Frederick’s performance that everyone was waiting for.
Amira slowly turned, a gasp catching in her throat as she saw who’d entered the room.
Dr Joseph Goebbels.
He was even smaller in person than she’d imagined, his features fine and almost pointy, and his wife was more beautiful than Amira had expected. They entered the foyer as if they were royalty, and she supposed they almost were, given how close they both were to Hitler.
‘Heil Hitler!’ the men all called, raising their hands as Goebbels came near, and Amira found herself holding her breath, mouthing the words as he walked past her.
‘Magda, it’s wonderful to see you,’ one of the women said.
Gisele moved closer to Amira, who was frozen in place, so close their arms were touching, her smile fixed. ‘Relax,’ she murmured, barely moving her mouth. ‘Just breathe.’
Amira remembered telling Fred before they’d arrived to pretend he was playing just for her, at home in their flat, and she told herself the same thing now – to close her eyes and listen to him and pretend they were at home.
‘Fred is counting on you,’ Gisele whispered. ‘You’re doing great.’
Amira opened her eyes and looked over at Fred; at his long, tapered fingers and his straight back as he sat, poised to play.
‘New love,’ one of the women said. ‘Just look at the way she watches him.’
