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‘Oh, do come on, Leila,’ shouted Minki breathlessly over her shoulder. ‘I don’t want to be late.’
Leila, whose new velvet evening shoes were a bit too tight, was struggling to keep up. ‘You go ahead,’ she called out, ‘I won’t be far behind.’
‘It feels like snow,’ said Minki breathlessly, peering up into the starless sky. ‘I can’t believe I’m about to ruin a second pair of shoes.’
The event was being held in a private room above a restaurant in the main square. The noise of party chatter spilled out onto the street. Standing at the bottom of the stairs, Minki looked up and noticed the guests were standing on the staircase, smoking and drinking. Leila arrived a few minutes later and, after checking their coats, the two girls went to the ladies’ room to comb their hair and touch up their make-up.
‘It looks packed up there,’ said Minki, applying red lipstick. ‘I can’t wait to see who’s here.’
‘I thought you had a “pathological fear” of parties where you don’t know anyone,’ teased Leila, tidying her hair.
‘Oh, I just said that to make you come with me. Now hurry up – let’s get in there.’
Minki ran up the stairs, and plunged enthusiastically into the main room, leaving Leila standing in the doorway feeling nervous and shy. She had a momentary flash of envy at her friend’s extraordinary social confidence. After a few moments, a tall man with kind hazel eyes approached her. ‘You look a bit lost.’
‘Oh, do I?’ Leila smoothed the skirt of her emerald green cocktail dress. ‘I came with a friend, but she’s disappeared already. She’s a journalist – looking for gossip, I suspect.’
The man smiled. ‘Well, she’s come to the right place. The room is full of potential gossip. I’m Viktor Labowski, by the way. And you are?’
‘Leila…Leila Hoffmann. Nice to meet you.’ She smiled up at him, brushing her hair away from her dark eyes. As he held her gaze for a moment, she blushed in spite of herself. He was handsome in a middle-aged sort of way, with dark hair silvering slightly at the temples. Gallantly, he took her hand and kissed it. ‘It’s a delight to meet you, Leila. I’m surprised we’ve not met before. Are you a journalist too?’
‘Not yet, but I’d like to be. I’ve been for a couple of interviews, but no luck so far…’
‘Well, I’m sure you’ll get something eventually. Let me introduce you to a few people. There are lots of journalists, publishers and editors here.’
Viktor took her by the elbow and ushered her around the room, introducing her to one person after another. Although initially shy, she gradually became bolder and more confident. When she made an intelligent comment, or a witty remark, Viktor smiled at her, she noticed, like a proud parent of a child who had said something clever to the grown-ups at dinner. At a break in the conversation he whispered in her ear: ‘See those men in the corner?’
She nodded.
‘The one on the left – with the splendid moustache and beard – is called Erhard Auer. He’s the chief editor of theMunich Post. He’s also leader of Munich’s Social Democratic Party. Have you approached them yet for a job?’
‘No,’ Leila replied nervously. ‘I imagined a paper as erudite as that would only employ people with lots of experience. Of course – I read it every day.’ That wasn’t the complete truth, but she did read the paper from time to time.
‘Good. Let’s go and talk to him. Erhard is a good friend of mine and I’m going to ask him to give you a job.’
‘Oh, no, you can’t do that. It would be too embarrassing.’
‘Don’t be silly, how else do you think people get jobs,’ replied Viktor, taking her arm and leading her across the room.
‘Erhard, I’d like you to meet Leila. She’s an eager young reporter and is looking for a job. If I were you I’d snap her up before some other lucky beggar gets her.’
‘Oh, Viktor,’ said Leila, colouring with embarrassment, ‘you do exaggerate.’ She turned to the bearded man. ‘He’s right, Herr Auer – I am looking for a job, but I have absolutely no professional experience – and that’s the truth.’
Auer smiled at her. ‘Well that’s honest, and I like that. And don’t worry – I’m used to Viktor’s enthusiasm about people. Do you read the paper?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Good to hear. We don’t have as much support here in Munich as I’d like.’ Lowering his voice, he added: ‘Being a Social Democrat in the birthplace of National Socialism is a dangerous business these days.’ He smiled faintly, but Leila could see the strain behind his kind eyes. She felt drawn to him.
‘We are facing unprecedented pressures,’ he went on. ‘Hitler’s putsch at the bierkeller was just the beginning. These National Socialists mean business and their thugs aren’t going to stop. Our offices at thePostwere subjected to a particularly sustained attack that night.’
‘That’s awful – but why?’ asked Leila.
‘Because we are the enemy,’ Auer replied calmly. ‘“The Jewish Newspaper”, they call us, or sometimes the “Munich Plague”. They want to destroy us – along with every other Jew in Germany.’
‘Do you really believe that?’ asked Leila.
Auer shrugged. ‘You mark my words – it can only get worse—’
