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‘Most writers are inclined towards the autobiographical at the start of their careers,’ said Viktor kindly. ‘Are novels the form you wish to concentrate on?’
‘I would like to write plays, ideally,’ replied Joseph, ‘and I write poetry too, of course.’
‘Whom do you most admire?’ asked Viktor, ‘as a writer, I mean?’
‘The Russians obviously – Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky…and the Scandinavians. Oh, and Hesse, of course. I thought his novelBeneath the Wheelsummed up the predicament of all young people – the struggle of finding one’s place in the world. It felt as if he had entered my mind, seen my thoughts, and written them down.’
‘That’s very insightful,’ said Viktor. ‘You must send me something you’ve written – I’d be more than happy to take a look.’
‘There, you see!’ interjected Minki. ‘I told you he’d be interested in publishing your novel. Now, I’m bored with all this work talk. This is my party and you men have been monopolising my best friend for too long. Leila, come and dance with me, darling.’
It was well after midnight when the guests began to drift away. Minki’s mascara was smudged, and her dress was torn at the hem from dancing too energetically. As she mixed yet another cocktail, Leila whispered in her ear.
‘Viktor and I really must go. I’ve got an early start…’
‘Oh, must you?’ replied Minki miserably. ‘I really am going to miss you.’ Her eyes filled with tears.
‘And I’ll miss you too – every day.’
‘You’ll come and see me in Nuremberg, won’t you?’
‘Of course.’
At that moment Viktor appeared, carrying Leila’s coat. He wrapped it tenderly round her shoulders, kissing her cheek as he did so.
‘You’re so lucky,’ said Minki sadly. ‘I wish I had someone who loved me as much as Viktor seems to love you.’
‘You’ll find someone…maybe Joseph?’ suggested Leila, glancing at Goebbels, now standing alone in the corner of the room.
‘Oh no! Not him. He’s hugely intelligent, of course, and a good lover, but he’s so earnest…and he lives miles away – somewhere in the north. Besides, I think he already loves someone else…he’s always talking about her – Else, I think he said her name was. Are you going to publish his novel, Viktor?’
‘I’ll take a look at his work, certainly.’
‘You are kind,’ said Minki.
‘Not at all – you never know what you’ll find, so it’s important to keep an open mind. He seemed interesting and intelligent. Who knows, he might be the next big thing…’
As Minki stood at the top of the stairs watching her best friend depart, Joseph Goebbels slipped his arm round her waist, and stroked her cheek. ‘It’s been a wonderful party. I wondered if you wanted me to stay…you look a bit sad.’
‘No, not tonight,’ replied Minki, removing his arm from her waist. ‘I’ve got too much to do in the morning.’
‘Oh…but we always have such a good time together.’ Goebbels kissed her ear.
‘No, Joe…not tonight,’ she said firmly. ‘Besides, you’ve already got a girlfriend. And while, in principle, I have no objection to sleeping with another girl’s man, I’m bored with playing second fiddle to whatsherface.’
‘If you mean Else, I’m not sure that’s really going anywhere…’ said Joseph miserably.
By now, most of the guests had left, revealing broken glass and cigarette stubs scattered across the floorboards. Empty bottles had been stacked half-heartedly in one corner, and a couple of girls slept fitfully on the sofa.
Minki sank down on a small chaise longue next to the now silent gramophone, and motioned to Joseph to join her.
‘Do you want to talk about her – Else, I mean?’
‘I don’t know…’ he replied, slumping down beside her. ‘I care for her deeply, but she’s Jewish…on her mother’s side. It makes things complicated. I’ve loved her for a long time, you see, and I can’t quite reconcile myself to letting her go.’
‘Well, don’t let her go. Marry her if you’re so in love with her.’
Goebbels shook his head. He looked momentarily misty-eyed. Minki leant towards him and touched him gently on the shoulder.
