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Frieda had another brother, Axel, seven, but he had been born with spina bifida, and had to have constant medical care. He lived in a special hospital on the outskirts of Berlin.
Mother was preoccupied on the journey. "I hope this is going to be all right," she muttered, half to herself, as they got off the train.
"Of course it will," Carla said. "I'll have a lovely time with Frieda."
"I didn't mean that. I'm talking about my paragraph about Hitler."
"Are we in danger? Was Father right?"
"Your father is usually right."
"What will happen to us if we've annoyed the Nazis?"
Mother stared at her strangely for a long moment, then said: "Dear God, what kind of a world did I bring you into?" Then she went quiet.
After a ten-minute walk they arrived at a grand villa in a big garden. The Francks were rich: Frieda's father, Ludwig, owned a factory making radio sets. Two cars stood in the driveway. The large shiny black one belonged to Herr Franck. The engine rumbled, and a cloud of blue vapor rose from the tailpipe. The chauffeur, Ritter, with uniform trousers tucked into high boots, stood cap in hand ready to open the door. He bowed and said: "Good morning, Frau von Ulrich."
The second car was a little green two-seater. A short man with a gray beard came out of the house carrying a leather case, and touched his hat to Mother as he got into the small car. "I wonder what Dr. Rothmann is doing here so early in the morning," Mother said anxiously.
They soon found out. Frieda's mother, Monika, came to the door, a tall woman with a mass of red hair. Anxiety showed on her pale face. Instead of welcoming them in, she stood squarely in the doorway as if to bar their entrance. "Frieda has measles!" she said.
"I'm so sorry!" said Mother. "How is she?"
"Miserable. She has a fever and a cough. But Rothmann says she'll be all right. However, she's quarantined."
"Of course. Have you had it?"
"Yes--when I was a girl."
"And Werner has, too--I remember he had a terrible rash all over. But what about your husband?" Mother asked.
"Ludi had it as a boy."
Both women looked at Carla. She had never had measles. She realized this meant she could not spend the day with Frieda.
Carla was disappointed, but Mother was quite shaken. "This week's magazine is our election issue--I can't be absent." She looked distraught. All the grown-ups were apprehensive about the general election to be held next Sunday. Mother and Father both feared the Nazis might do well enough to take full control of the government. "Plus my oldest friend is visiting from London. I wonder whether Walter could be persuaded to take a day off to look after Carla?"
Monika said: "Why don't you telephone him?"
Not many people had phones in their homes, but the Francks did, and Carla and her mother stepped into the hall. The instrument stood on a spindly-legged table near the door. Mother picked it up and gave the number of Father's office at the Reichstag, the parliament building. She got through to him and explained the situation. She listened for a minute, then looked angry. "My magazine will urge a hundred thousand readers to campaign for the Social Democratic Party," she said. "Do you really have something more important than that to do today?"
Carla could guess how this argument would end. Father loved her dearly, she knew, but in all her eleven years he had never looked after her for a whole day. All her friends' fathers were the same. Men did not do that sort of thing. But Mother sometimes pretended not to know the rules women lived by.
"I'll just have to take her to the office with me, then," Mother said into the phone. "I dread to think what Jochmann will say." Herr Jochmann was her boss. "He's not much of a feminist at the best of times." She replaced the handset without saying good-bye.
Carla hated it when they fought, and this was the second time in a day. It made the whole world seem unstable. She was much more scared of quarrels than of the Nazis.
"Come on, then," Mother said to her, and she moved to the door.
I'm not even going to see Werner, Carla thought unhappily.
Just then Frieda's father appeared in the hall, a pink-faced man with a small black mustache, energetic and cheerful. He greeted Mother pleasantly, and she paused to speak politely to him while Monika helped him into a black topcoat with a fur collar.
He went to the foot of the stairs. "Werner!" he shouted. "I'm going without you!" He put on a gray felt hat and went out.
"I'm ready, I'm ready!" Werner ran down the stairs like a dancer. He was as tall as his father and more handsome, with red-blond hair worn too long. Under his arm he had a leather satchel that appeared to be full of books; in the other hand he held a pair of ice skates and a hockey stick. He paused in his rush to say: "Good morning, Frau von Ulrich," very politely. Then in a more informal tone: "Hello, Carla. My sister's got the measles."
Carla felt herself blush, for no reason at all. "I know," she said. She tried to think of something charming and amusing to say, but came up with nothing. "I've never had it, so I can't see her."
