AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘Thirteen. It’s a bad age to lose one’s mother,’ replied Minki matter-of-factly.
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Leila, taking Minki’s arm. ‘I can’t imagine the pain of losing your mother at that age. I almost feel guilty that both my parents are still alive.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ said Minki. ‘I didn’t tell you the story to get your sympathy – it’s just part of who I am.’
Their route had taken them past Café Luitpold – a smart establishment in the centre of town, which served coffee and cakes to the well-heeled citizens of Munich.
‘Shall we have coffee?’ Minki asked.
‘I shouldn’t really,’ said Leila, glancing at her watch. ‘I promised my mother I wouldn’t be late…besides, isn’t it rather expensive?’
‘Oh, don’t worry about that – I’ll pay,’ replied Minki, pulling her inside. ‘Besides, the food at the house where I live is simply appalling. If I don’t have something to eat here, I’ll be starving by bed-time.’
They sat at a table in the window and, as she sipped her milky coffee, Minki continued the story of her upbringing.
‘I was a late developer in some ways. I had no brothers or sisters – and so no one with whom to compare myself. Oddly, before my mother died I hadn’t seen myself as a young woman, if you understand me. Until that time, I’d just been a “person” – running wild in the countryside, climbing trees…spoiling my clothes. What was wonderful about my mother was that she just accepted this behaviour – she never tried to change me, or complain about the torn blouses and skirts. Instead, she taught me to sew. “If you’re going to rip your clothes,” she told me one day, “you should at least know how to mend them.”’
‘After she’d gone…’ Minki paused, gazing out of the café window, tears welling up in her eyes, ‘…I felt utterly bereft. The day she passed away, my father insisted I say my farewells. There she was, lying on the bed, dressed in her best nightgown, as a priest said prayers over her. She looked so peaceful – as if she were just asleep. Instinctively, I leaned over to kiss her, but as soon as my lips touched her cheek I reeled back in shock. Her skin was so cold and clammy and nothing like the soft warm cheek I was used to. I was so upset I ran back to my room and lay on my bed, sobbing for hours. When I got up, there was blood all over my skirt and the eiderdown – my period had started, you see. I was utterly bewildered…lost and frightened. My mother had never discussed these things with me. I suppose she presumed she would be there to explain it all when it happened. Anyway, I changed my clothes and ran down the corridor to ask my mother what to do, but of course she couldn’t answer. That’s when it really hit me – she was gone forever.’
‘How awful for you,’ said Leila, reaching across the table, and squeezing Minki’s hand.
‘My father, of course, was no help. He didn’t know the first thing about girls. If it hadn’t been for the housekeeper, I’m not sure how I’d have managed. Anyway, as soon as my mother was buried, my father sent me away to a convent. In many ways it was the worst thing he could have done. I felt totally abandoned, and somehow the surroundings – with mass every day, and nuns everywhere – made it worse. I’d prayed for my mother constantly throughout her illness, and when she died I felt God had turned his back on me. What little faith I had left was destroyed at that school.’ She paused for a moment, before adding: ‘Do you believe in God?’
Minki had observed that Leila never replied to anything without giving it serious thought. Now, her friend screwed up her eyes as she concentrated on her answer: ‘I’m not sure,’ Leila said at last. ‘I was born into the Jewish faith and therefore I am unequivocally Jewish, but whether I’m a “Jew” is a harder question to answer. I believe in spirituality – perhaps in a higher being if you like – but what that has to do with formal religion, I don’t know. In the end, as long as you’re kind and thoughtful to those around you – nothing else really matters, don’t you think?’
‘I think,’ said Minki, leaning across the table, and kissing her friend’s cheek, ‘that you are one of the sweetest, wisest people I’ve ever met.’
Towards the end of their first term the pair joined the university newspaper. They outperformed their male colleagues, in terms of both output and scoops. Each developed their own individual areas of interest. Leila concentrated on the serious issues of the day, writing about politics and economics – searing polemics, often critical of government policy. Minki, meanwhile, focussed on the lighter side of life, writing lively diary pieces, together with articles on the arts.
This early success crystallised an ambition that she had been nursing for some time, and as the long summer holidays approached Minki announced that she intended to become a journalist when she left university.
‘I thought you said your father expected you to move back home,’ Leila pointed out.
‘What he expects and what I will do are entirely different things. I’m never going home again. After university, I’m going to become an independent woman.’
Leila was impressed. Although her own future was undecided, Minki’s certainty that her life would amount to something was inspirational.
At the end of her first year, Minki informed her father that she would stay in Munich over the summer to continue her studies. In fact, she had decided to spend the holiday looking for new, more convivial lodgings.
One afternoon, after a walk in the verdant Englischer Garten, she found herself in a district of Munich called Schwabing. As she delved into the little cafés and shops, she observed how the inhabitants were of a more ‘artistic’ bent than the normally staid residents of Munich, with their dirndls and polite conversation. Walking down Theresienstrasse, she passed a restaurant called Café Stephanie, and noticed a woman with tumbling auburn curls, who wore a feather boa and fur coat, accosting men in the street. As Minki got closer she was able to hear their conversation. The woman was offering her body in return for money. Although initially shocked by this spectacle, Minki was fascinated. She stopped a few metres further on and lurked in a shop doorway, from where she could watch the woman at work. She seemed so confident and cheerful – laughing with the men, accepting their cigarettes. Most of her potential ‘customers’ made their excuses and left, but one took her up on her offer, and the pair disappeared inside the café. Fifteen minutes later she saw them emerging back onto the street. As the man slipped away, the woman suddenly called out in Minki’s direction. ‘Hey, you there, what are you staring at?’
Minki, mortified at being noticed, shrank back into the shadows. ‘Nothing,’ she muttered, ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘What’s the matter, never seen a woman chatting up a man before?’
‘Well, not like that,’ replied Minki, more boldly.
The woman threw her head back and laughed. ‘Come and show me how you’d do it then?’
‘Oh, no,’ said Minki hurriedly, ‘I really couldn’t. Anyway, I have to get home.’
‘Don’t be such a bore. Come inside and have a drink with me – I won’t bite.’
The woman led the way into the café and, in spite of her reservations, Minki followed. There was something intriguing about this auburn-haired creature, with her glamorous clothes and lively manner. The woman settled herself at a table by the window. ‘Bring two glasses of port, Gerhard, there’s a good chap,’ she said to the man behind the bar.
As Minki sat down opposite her, she noticed the woman’s green eyes, fine porcelain skin and high cheekbones. She seemed too elegant to be a prostitute, Minki thought, with a fine, almost aristocratic bearing, long delicate fingers and graceful movements. Her accent was unusual too…Russian perhaps.
Although nervous, Minki felt emboldened by her first sip of port. She proffered her hand to the woman. ‘My name is Minki Sommer…it’s very nice to meet you.’
