AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Margot left home soon after lunchtime and was driven to the airport for the brief flight to Paris. She had flown before, but it was still an amazing experience, like a step outside life into a bird’s-eye view of the patchwork blanket of autumn fields, copses of trees turning color, villages like a child’s toys. She found herself smiling without knowing quite why. It was an absurd sense of freedom, of being almost untouchable by ordinary cares. Of course, one had to come down again!
Once she was in Paris, she spent a very comfortable night in one of her favorite hotels, near the Luxembourg Gardens, then went to the railway station early and caught an express train to Berlin. It was expensive to travel first-class, but it was very much worth it. She had a considerable amount of luggage, filled with clothing carefully chosen for every likely event. She did not want to have to worry about it. She would arrive safe and rested.
She found a comfortable seat and opened her book, but was unable to concentrate on the adventures of fictional characters when there was so much drama ahead of her in Berlin. She had not read much about politics, until her sister’s experiences in Berlin—not that Elena had spoken about it so much to Margot or to her parents. What concerned her, and drew her in reluctantly, was the fact that Elena hardly spoke about it at all. That was more powerful than any words would have been.
Elena had always been the quieter of the sisters, a follower rather than a leader. She tried to follow Margot in style, but Elena’s fashion sense was about as interesting as a kitchen apron! She wore bland colors, ordinary styles, nothing that attracted the eye, and certainly nothing that startled.
But that had been before Berlin.
When Elena had returned in a scarlet silk dress that fitted her like a glove, it had drawn the eye…and comments…and she appeared not to care in the least! And her hair, which had always been a bit too long—wavy, which was good, but light brown with a glint in it, as if there were possibilities of glamour never realized—was now a casual, fashionable bob, still with the wave, but pale, Swedish-looking: blond. Enough to catch everyone’s eye: men with admiration, women with envy.
The scarlet dress was gone now, and no one would explain why, although Margot was certain Josephine knew. It had been replaced by more dresses that fitted very well, with skirts that flared when she moved. They were in gorgeous colors of hyacinth blue, iris purple, pale primrose yellow. And green, lots of green, always leaning a little toward the aquamarine or teal. Plus smart, sophisticated black, which her fair skin and pale blond hair lit up like magic.
Margot’s first thought was the obvious one: Elena was in love. But no new man had appeared.
That was all on the surface, just a symptom of what had changed inside. Her ambitions were less easy to read, but possibly deeper. Something had happened to her that week in May that had tested her to her limits and beyond, and she had not found herself wanting. There was now a certainty in her.
Grandfather Lucas knew what it was, but Margot had realized lately that there was an infinity of things that Lucas knew and never discussed.
When the train pulled into the station in Berlin, Margot faced the immediate practicalities of making sure she had all her luggage. She had a case of gifts for Winifred Cordell and, of course, for Cecily. She had taken a great deal of care to bring things that would cause pleasure, and show her affection, without drowning them in a sense of gratitude or, worse, inferiority.
She found a porter to help her get a taxi and ensure the luggage was all packed in. She sat back and stared through the taxi windows at the streets, the traffic, and the people.
Margot put from her mind the terror for Elena that had crushed out everything else the last time she’d been here. This time, she was here to support a friend, and she was determined to act as if she believed this was the beginning of a happy new life for Cecily.
Berlin looked better than it had only months earlier. It was early autumn now, a touch of winter in the air. There was more color in the women’s dresses, the occasional bright stands of flowers for sale, a little more in shop windows. But there were also more groups of Brownshirts, young men armed and empowered, with almost no supervision as to how they exercised their will. Twic
e she saw them stop a crowd of startled pedestrians whose faces reminded her of cornered animals.
Sharp memories came back of her own experience of fear. Roger Cordell had told her that her presence could not help Elena if she drew the attention of the police or even the Brownshirts. It could only endanger Elena even more. Hitler’s grip had grown firmer in these past four months. That much her father knew from his own work in the Foreign Office. He believed that the worst was over, that there was more work for people to do, a change toward stability, even a beginning of prosperity. There were claims that all conflicts were under control, and people began to hope again.
Could she see it in the streets? Perhaps. Or was it her imagination, because she wanted it to be true?
The taxi pulled up at the Cordells’ house. Memory flooded back of all the times she had shared events with Cecily. There was a difference in their ages, but it had never mattered. They were both English girls, with fathers in the British embassy, in a strange, exciting, and disturbing city. Of course, Cecily and Margot had found a natural ease, quick laughter, a taste for the same music, fashion, and adventure that Elena did not join in. The ten years between Cecily and Margot did not matter.
“Oh, yes, thank you,” she said to the driver when he broke her reverie to ask her if this was the right place. He got out to fetch her luggage, leaving Margot to open her own door and climb out onto the footpath.
“Thank you,” she said again. She fished in her purse for the fare and a generous tip. He set her cases on the path and turned to her. He did not meet her eyes but nodded his thanks, took his fare, and climbed back into the vehicle.
A moment later, she was alone in the afternoon sun. There was a slight chill in the air here, too, just as there was at home. But then, this had been home, or almost home, years ago.
The front door flew open and a figure appeared. “Margot! You’re here!” Cecily cried, running down the path so familiar to her that she avoided the broken edges on the steps without thinking about it. She looked wonderful, her dark hair flying, her face flushed.
Margot put the cases down and caught Cecily in her arms, hugging her fiercely.
Then Cecily stepped back, smiling. “Come in, you must be tired. Did you have a good journey? Let me tell you about all the arrangements and who will be there.” She barely drew breath. “You’ll have to meet Hans, of course, but there are other people as well. He’s terribly well connected, you know. But that’s all by the way. Come, let’s put your things in your room. You’d like a cup of tea, wouldn’t you? Have you had anything to eat? Railway food is pretty ghastly.” She picked up one of the cases, with an effort, and carried it up the path. She was wearing a floral silk dress and it moved fluidly with her, showing how very slender she was.
Pre-wedding nerves? With a sharp stab of memory, Margot thought of her own excitement before Paul’s last leave. Their wedding so brief: a flurry of white roses, petals falling; their one week together and then goodbyes that turned out to be forever.
She picked up the other case and followed Cecily.
Winifred, Cecily’s mother, stood in the hall, smiling. She was a pretty woman in a fragile way, her hair still richly colored, with natural curls, her eyes wide and clear blue; her skin without blemish. Cecily went straight past her and put the case down with a gasp of relief.
Margot hugged Winifred, feeling her respond gently.
“So pleased you could come, dear,” Winifred said warmly. “Difficult to travel at the moment, so we are grateful you made the time and the effort. But things are really beginning to look better and this is a wonderful event for our family. We are so happy.” She stepped back for a moment and gazed into Margot’s face, her look absolutely candid. “We are at the beginning of hope.” There was a flush in her pale cheeks. “It makes all the world of difference to Cecily—to all of us—that you are here.” She looked past Margot at Cecily. “Leave that at the bottom of the stairs, dear. Ernst will take it up, and the other one.” She turned back to Margot. “Go up and see your room, and then you will have tea in the sitting room and we’ll tell you all the plans.” She stepped back, as if cueing Margot to leave temporarily.
Margot smiled back at her. “It’s lovely to be here, and to see you again for such a happy occasion. The beginning of new times.” She turned and started upstairs, wondering if she should not have made that last remark. She so badly wanted it to be true. Perhaps she was helping paint a mirage, but it was too late to take it back.
