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He smiled, buttoning his cuffs. ‘It’s not that simple, Minki. I have to consider every possible outcome and prepare articles accordingly. If Hitler is found guilty and sentenced to life imprisonment that’s one article…if he’s let off with a slap on the wrist, that’s quite another.’ He stooped down to check his hair in the dressing table mirror.
‘You’ll come back later though?’ she asked.
‘I’m not sure…’ He glanced at her reflection in the mirror.
‘But I was going to cook us supper tonight. Please say you’ll come…You won’t be disappointed.’ She allowed her silk kimono to slip off her shoulders, revealing her firm white breasts.
He removed his jacket from the back of the chair. ‘It’s a tempting offer, Minki, really, but I don’t want to make a promise I can’t keep.’
Hurt at being rejected, Minki pulled her kimono tightly around her and got out of bed. ‘I just thought…supper would be nice. Most of the time we only make love, and I want you to see a different side of me. I am capable of being domestic, you know.’
She wandered through to the kitchen and lit the gas ring under the coffee pot.
Peter followed her, pulling on his jacket. Standing behind her, he slipped his arms round her waist and whispered in her ear. ‘Can you really cook, Minki? I’ve never even seen you boil an egg.’
‘Of course I can.’ She turned to face him, wrapped her arms round his neck and kissed him. ‘Oh, please say you’ll come over later?’
To her surprise, she felt him resisting.
‘Oh don’t come then,’ she snapped. ‘Go to work – I don’t care.’ She turned away and discreetly wiped the tears from her eyes, before clanging the coffee pot onto the countertop and pouring them both a cup of coffee. ‘Here…you’d better have this before you go.’
‘Thanks.’ He picked it up with both hands, and blew on the steaming black liquid before drinking it down in one. ‘Look, Minki – I’m sorry if you’re upset, but I’ll see you tomorrow at the court, OK?’
‘Sure…that will be nice.’ Her voice was clipped, controlled.
He reached down and kissed her cheek. ‘You’re lovely.’
Minki spent the rest of the day alone in her apartment, anxiously pacing the floor. What had just happened? Was he telling the truth and he really had work to do, or was it something more serious? Had she misunderstood his affection? Had he fallen out of love with her? She hated herself for feeling this way – for needing him so badly. That evening, she drank a bottle of wine, fell into bed and cried herself to sleep.
She woke periodically throughout the night, tossing and turning, her mind racing. Finally at dawn she gave up trying to sleep, and climbed out of bed. Gazing out of her third-floor window at the Munich skyline, she felt a little ashamed of her petulant reaction the day before. Peter was a professional, she told herself; of course he had to work. But once the trial was finally over, the pressure would be off them both, and then they would have time to talk and discuss their future together.
Feeling more optimistic, and determined to make a last dramatic entrance on the final morning of the trial, she dressed with care, selecting a figure-hugging navy blue dress and matching hat. She hoped it struck the right note of elegance mixed with seriousness. If Peter was ever going to see her as a potential wife, she must dress like one.
Hurrying to the courtroom, Minki could see the queue to the press gallery already stretching round the block. Leila was standing near the front alongside Edmund, Martin… and Peter. Minki’s heart leapt. She hurried to insert herself into the group, standing right next to Peter, their hands almost touching.
‘Goodness Minki,’ said Leila, glancing at her watch, ‘I’m impressed…for once you’re early.’
Minki blushed. ‘I thought I ought to show willing as it’s judgment day.’ She glanced up at Peter, but he chose that moment to light a cigarette, exhaling the smoke away from her. After what had happened the day before, this apparent indifference gave her a frisson of anxiety.
There was no time to brood, for moments later the courtroom doors opened, and the journalists rushed up the stairs that led to the press gallery. Edmund and Peter forged ahead, and took up their positions in the front row, with Minki, Leila and Martin following behind. As they slid into their seats, Minki was delighted to find herself sitting between Leila and Peter. Hoping for a sign of affection from her lover, she pressed her leg against his, but he turned away to Edmund and began discussing the case.
Embarrassed at being ignored, Minki switched her attention to the gallery and studied the spectators, some of whom were chatting volubly about Hitler as if he were a film star. Giggling, she nudged Leila. ‘I just overheard one of those women on the other side of the aisle saying: “I’d like to share a bath with him, wouldn’t you?”’
‘God, how odd,’ said Leila.
‘And her friend replied: “Oh yes…to soak his back, to feel his legs around one’s own. Oh, the thought of it…”’
Leila and Minki giggled, but Peter shushed them. ‘Can’t you take anything seriously,’ he said coldly.
At that moment, the doors to the courtroom opened and the defendants entered, followed by their lawyers, and finally the five judges. The room fell silent; even the two ‘Hitler fans’ in the gallery stopped talking and leaned forward eagerly, waiting for the verdict.
But Judge Neithardt took his time. His summing-up was long-winded, his voice monotonous, and Minki struggled to concentrate. She could think of nothing but seeing Peter at the end of the day and where they would go that evening. Perhaps they would start off in a bar, before dining somewhere romantic. Later, they would end up in bed, as they always did, and he would make love to her, whispering such sweet things in her ear. Might this be the night when he proposed, or at least invited her to come back to America with him? She glanced across at Peter, hoping for some sign of affection, but he seemed intent on writing up his notes.
Finally the judge pronounced he would give his verdict. Minki sat up and took her notebook and pen out from her bag. In ponderous tones, Neithardt declared Hitler guilty of high treason. Immediately, the courtroom erupted with cries of ‘Unacceptable!’ and ‘Scandalous!’ The two ladies in the gallery who had spoken so amorously of Hitler began to weep theatrically. ‘It’s a disgrace,’ one of them screamed. Minki made a note of their reaction – fine headline material, she thought.
When the sentences were announced, the journalists in the press gallery gasped. Hitler would go to prison for five years.
‘Is that all?’ muttered Peter.
