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‘Oh no,’ replied Leila, ‘you don’t understand Minki at all. She comes across as tough and uncaring, but deep down she’s soft as butter. I think she’s one of the most vulnerable people I know…’
* * *
Minki watched the pair leave, and was just wondering how to spend her evening when she heard a familiar voice calling out. ‘Minki Sommer…what a delight.’
She turned to find Joseph Goebbels heading towards her.
‘Joe! What on earth are you doing here?’
‘I might ask you the same…I thought you’d moved to Nuremberg.’
‘I thoughtyoulived in Rheydt – wherever that is – with your little Jewish girlfriend.’
Goebbels coloured, clearly irritated. ‘I came here to listen to Adolf,’ he replied firmly. ‘I thought he was extraordinary, didn’t you?’
‘If you really want to know, I think he’s a monstrous egotist, and a bit of a bore. All that guff about racial purity,’ replied Minki. ‘I’d have thought – with your girlfriend being Jewish – you’d have hated it too.’
Joseph raised his eyebrows. ‘Well, I…’ he stammered.
‘Oh, come on Joe, let’s not squabble. I’m dying for a drink. You coming?’
Goebbels followed her to a nearby bar. A fire glowed in the hearth and Minki grabbed two seats, one on either side. ‘Order us a schnapps, Joe. And ask the barman if we can take the bottle. We might need more than one glass.’
Settled by the fire, Joseph poured them each a drink. ‘Did you really see nothing inspirational in what Adolf said?’
‘Not especially. That first hour, with Hitler telling us about his past, was pathetic – the poor little Austrian boy with a mother fixation, and a failed artist to boot.’
Joseph flushed with fury. ‘I have to disagree. He fought for our country in the war.’
‘He was a mere despatch driver!’ protested Minki. ‘Nothing particularly heroic about that. I don’t suppose he ever got shot at.’
‘He was gassed,’ argued Goebbels.
‘Only incidentally. You can’t convince me that he suffered like the front-line German troops. One of my cousins died in that war. Hitler’s still alive.’
‘That’s a childish argument, Minki – you can’t blame the man for surviving. The point is – Hitler knows what it is to suffer under the boot of the foreigner. The German people were humiliated after the war. That treaty made at Versailles, and its punitive war reparations order, has destroyed our economy, denying us any chance of supporting our own people. We owe money to everyone and have nothing left for ourselves. You may not realise this, but where I come from in the north-west we’re now under foreign control. The Belgians and the French have taken over the Rhineland. Can you imagine what it feels like to live under the control of a foreign power?’
Minki shrugged, and refilled her glass.
‘Hitler wants to give us back our pride. And as for the putsch, he took full responsibility for that – as a brave leader should.’
‘He’s got you heart, body and soul, hasn’t he?’ Minki said. ‘You’ve quite fallen in love with him.’
Goebbels blushed. ‘Don’t be absurd.’
‘I don’t mean sexually – I mean that you adore him, almost worship him.’
‘I wouldn’t put it like that, Minki, but I admire him enormously. What is liberating about him is the way he commits himself as a truly upright and honest personality. That is so rare in a world dominated by party interests. Hitler is an idealist. A man who will bring new self-belief to the Germans…He’ll find a way, all right.’
‘Well, enough about him,’ said Minki, lighting another cigarette. ‘How about you – how’s the job-hunting going?’
Goebbels looked downcast. ‘Not much luck I’m afraid. I applied to the newspaper publisher Rudolf Mosse a couple of weeks ago, but they turned me down.’
‘Mosse is a Jewish publisher, you know,’ Minki pointed out. ‘I’d have thought that might prove a problem to someone like you?’
‘Well, whatever I feel about them, they didn’t want me. I’ve even been turned down for a teaching position. It’s absurd – I have a PhD in philosophy, for heaven’s sake!’
‘Well, I’m sorry,’ replied Minki. ‘Maybe you’re barking up the wrong tree. Perhaps your future lies in politics. Your obsession with Hitler suggests you have a passion for it. Whatever I think of Hitler – and it’s not much, I admit – he clearly is making a name for himself. Maybe you should join him and his little band of Brownshirts.’
