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‘Shall we go in?’ asked Leila.
‘Why not? It might be interesting.’
The hall was packed as Leila and Viktor squeezed into two spare seats near the back. Ferdl was already on stage, making his views on the trial, and Hitler’s innocence, clear. ‘What have they done wrong?’ he harangued the audience. ‘Can it really be a crime to try to save one’s Fatherland from disgrace and despair?’
The audience went wild with approbation, standing and cheering. Unnerved, Leila tugged at Viktor’s arm. ‘I think we should leave, don’t you?’
Outside, as dusk fell, police were already patrolling the streets. ‘I had heard the authorities are braced for trouble,’ said Viktor, ‘and after that cabaret, I can see why. Hitler has divided the people. Some think he is their saviour, others – the devil.’
‘I just don’t recognise my city any more,’ said Leila nervously. ‘It used to be such a peaceful, quiet place to live.’
Viktor put his arm round her. ‘We’ll be all right, darling. Try not to worry. Let’s get a drink somewhere – and something to eat.’
He guided her to a favourite bar, where they sat in a small private booth near the back.
‘I thought you might be interested in these,’ said Viktor, opening his briefcase and taking out a few copies of foreign papers. He laid them out on the table in front of them, picking up a magazine. ‘This is a new magazine from America, calledTime. The journalist writing the story seems to think Hitler will get away with it: “The authorities almost encouraged the putsch,” is what he says.’
Leila picked upLe Petit Parisien. ‘The French describe the trial as “a comedy of justice”.’ She threw the paper down angrily on the table. ‘This country is a laughing stock, Viktor.’
‘It’s extraordinary really. The world’s press can all see it for what it is – Hitler’s made a fool of everyone – and worse, he’s had the perfect opportunity to convince the world that right is on his side.’
‘Oh, Viktor, I just want it to be over, to see that awful man in prison, so we can all get on with our lives.’
Viktor reached over and squeezed her hand. ‘Darling, I fear that it will not be so simple.’
10
MUNICH
April 1924
As the first day of April dawned, Minki, who had slept fitfully, threw back the covers and climbed out of bed. Opening the curtains of her borrowed third-floor apartment, she had a perfect view of the Munich skyline. The sun was just rising over the rooftops, casting an apricot glow across an opalescent blue sky. This was the day the judge would deliver his final verdict on the Adolf Hitler case, and the trial would come to an end. She would go back to Nuremberg, and Peter – with whom she had fallen hopelessly in love – would return to America.
As she brewed a morning pot of coffee, she reflected on the new, and sometimes bewildering, emotions that now swirled inside her. She was used to feeling passion, lust and occasionally even affection for her lovers, but had never felt such love and devotion. She tried to analyse her feelings. Peter was handsome, of course, and a tender lover, but more than that, he represented something good in the world. He was an honourable man, with a strong sense of morality. And much as she liked to ridicule such values, in her heart she was beginning to admire the charming American.
They had spent much of the last month together. In public he had maintained an air of detachment from her – something she had found frustrating at times. But he was a private man, and she had tried to understand his reluctance to make their love affair public. His work, as he often told her, took precedence. He would attend court during the day, spend the evening at the offices of theMunich Post, file his copy, and then late at night visit her apartment, where they would drink and make love. Early in the morning he would return to his hotel room to shower and change. In this way, they appeared to have separate lives. But the truth was they had been together almost every night…until last night.
The five-day adjournment of the trial, while the judges considered the evidence, had given Minki and Peter a chance to spend more time together. Peter still worked during the day, spending several hours at the offices of theMunich Post, but in the evenings they would meet for supper, enjoying long languid meals in restaurants around town. It gave them an opportunity to talk of their lives and hopes for the future – in particular how Peter’s life had been changed by living in America.
‘You’d love it there,’ he assured her. ‘I can imagine you in New York – it’s full of energy and dynamism – you’d fit in well…in fact, I think you could be a huge success. You have the necessary drive to make it.’
Minki took this as a sign that Peter might be considering a possible future for them both in America. She began to wonder if she had finally met the man she was destined to marry.
But on that final Sunday – the day before the verdict was due – Minki woke to find Peter dressing hurriedly.
‘Where are you going?’ she asked, peering at the clock on the bedside. ‘It’s seven o’clock in the morning.’
‘I have to go to work…’
‘So early? Must you, Peter? It’s Sunday, after all.’
‘I still have work to do – copy to file. ‘
‘I know…it’s just I had hoped we could go to the Englischer Garten later – it’s such a beautiful day.’
‘Not today, I’m afraid.’
‘But surely…the verdict is due tomorrow and there’s nothing much you can do until that’s announced.’
