Page 69 of The Pianist's Wife
She blinked away fresh tears. ‘I love you, too.’
‘There’s one more thing.’
Her heart stopped, seeing the way he was looking at her, knowing that she didn’t want to hear whatever he was about to say.
‘The commanding officers and their families have to live nearby, near the camp. There are ten villas, and they’re occupied at present, but when one comes up, if I take a permanent post there...’
She swallowed at the thought of moving there, so close to so much suffering, her worst nightmare. ‘If we have to move, we have to move. But perhaps you could try to delay it for as long as possible?’
Hans ran a hand down her arm, his smile sad. ‘I understand.’
Gisele should have known dinner was going to be a disaster. She’d always hated when her mother came to stay, and now that she’d returned to Berlin for good, she was going to have to suffer through her staying for weeks, possibly months. If only her father had still been alive, she might not have been so insufferable, but he’d passed soon after she’d moved to Berlin from a stroke. Hans had politely suggested that Gisele’s mother would be safer staying at home, given the uncertain times, but it hadn’t deterred her. And now, Gisele was left wondering if she should have asked Hans to be more firm about her coming at all, or at least about her finding her own quarters.
‘Hans, do you think our Führer will commence exterminations on the Russians once we win this war?’ her mother asked, between mouthfuls, as casually as if she were making small talk about the weather. ‘I’ve heard on good authority that the gas chambers are proving very effective.’
Gisele choked and had to quickly reach for her water glass, spluttering as she tried to clear her throat.
‘I think our Führer will be concentrating on winning this war for now,’ Hans replied. ‘The Allies are no longer proving to be as easy to conquer as we’d once thought.’
‘Well,’ her mother said, her fork slightly raised with a piece of pheasant and carrot pierced on it. ‘He’s already made it very clear that he thinks them both subhuman, so I’m certain he’ll make quick work of them. All vermin, the lot of them, if you ask me, pretending all these years as if they’re the same as us.’
‘Mother, enough!’ Gisele shouted, slamming her hand down on the table, ready to snatch the fork from her mother’s hand and ask her to leave right then and there. ‘I will not have you speak of such things at the dinner table, in front of my children.’
The children in question looked as if they were about to cry, not used to her raising her voice at all in the home, but Gisele didn’t apologise. She would do that in private, as she tucked them into bed, but she certainly wasn’t going to let them see her back down on such a matter.
‘You always were so sensitive about the Jews,’ her mother said, offhandedly, as if there were nothing wrong with her own behaviour. ‘She had this little Jewish girl she was friends with, has she told you about her, Hans? Her—’
‘Enough,’ Hans said, his voice reverberating around the room as he set his own knife and fork down. ‘My wife has asked you to stop, and I agree with her. This is not a suitable conversation for our young children.’
Gisele’s mother didn’t say another word, her mouth pinched as she bowed her head for a moment. She might like to rile her daughter, but she certainly wouldn’t speak against the man of the house, especially a respected member of the SS such as Hans.
‘Darling, dinner tonight was wonderful,’ Hans said, gesturing to his almost empty plate as he deftly changed the subject. ‘I’m looking forward to this war being over soon, so that we can all enjoy your cooking more and eat like this every night.’
‘Thank you, darling. It was certainly nice to have so many ingredients to work with for once.’
Her mother still looked as if she wanted to say more, but thankfully she held her tongue when Hans cleared his throat, and Gisele took the chance to rise and usher the children upstairs. Archie and Frieda had both finished their dinner, and she hurried them along to wash their hands and faces, but not before she heard her mother address Hans again. She was thankful the two smaller children were already tucked up in bed asleep.
‘You really shouldn’t let her be so sensitive about the Jews, Hans, especially in front of the children. She’s always been that way, and I blame that dreadful friend of hers from childhood, but there’s no need for your children to be shielded from the truth.’
‘Hilda, my wife asked you to refrain from speaking of such vulgarities at the dinner table, and I agreed with her. Please don’t ever undermine my wife like that again in front of our children, nor me. I won’t stand for it.’
‘Hans, please don’t tell me you agree with her? It would be a shame for the party to—’
‘Hilda, I would like to suggest that you refrain from saying another word. Your sharp tongue may work on your daughter, but you will quickly find yourself ex-communicated from this family for even suggesting that I am anything but a dedicated, loyal member of the Nazi Party who works tirelessly to uphold its principles.And on a personal note, I would have thought that you, a mother, would have a better grasp of what is and is not appropriate to speak of in front of children.’
Gisele smiled to herself and clapped her hands, chasing her children up the stairs and making them giggle. When they got to the top, she swept them both into her arms and held them fiercely, kissing their cheeks over and over until they wriggled.
‘I’m sorry about yelling at the table before,’ she whispered. ‘Oma Hilda makes me very cross sometimes, that’s all. And Papa, too.’
‘Mama, why did Grandma say things about Mira? Why did you say it wasn’t her name when she asked?’
Gisele closed her eyes and breathed deeply. This was not a conversation she wanted to have with her young daughter; she was too young to be asked to keep secrets. ‘We must never talk of Amira in front of your grandmother, and if she ever says her name or asks you about her, then you tell her you don’t know who she’s talking about.’
‘She doesn’t like Mira?’
Gisele stroked her daughter’s blonde hair from her face. ‘It’s hard to explain, but I want it to be our little secret. When you’re older, I promise I’ll explain it all to you.’
Frieda nodded earnestly, and Gisele only hoped that she could trust her to keep quiet. Amira had been a much bigger part of their lives than their grandmother had ever been – the children all loved her – but Gisele knew that a child keeping secrets was never a good idea, especially when they couldn’t be told precisely what was at stake.
