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Not waiting for an answer, Minki stormed out of the bar. Stopping at the end of the road, she looked back, half expecting him to follow her…perhaps even to apologise and beg her forgiveness. But there was no sign of him. She stumbled back to her apartment engulfed in tears.
Once inside, she fell hysterically onto the bed, pummelling the pillow with rage. ‘How could I be so stupid,’ she wailed, over and over. Finally, sheer exhaustion took over and she lay on her side, her legs curled up like a child, realising that all her hopes had evaporated. The happy married life she had envisaged with Peter had been nothing but a fantasy and all that was left now was a broken dream.
Desperate now to get away, she threw her belongings into her suitcase and ran downstairs. Outside she hailed a taxi. ‘Munich railway station please.’ She would take the night train to Nuremberg.
11
MUNICH
April 1924
Early the next morning, Leila hurried to Minki’s rented apartment, anxious to see her before she returned to Nuremberg. The main door to the apartment building was open, and Leila ran up the stairs. She knocked on Minki’s door.
There was no answer. ‘Minki, Minki…’ she called out. ‘Are you there?’
After a few minutes, she gave up and came downstairs. In the hall, she tapped on the caretaker’s door.
He opened it a few moments later, pulling on his braces. ‘What do you want?’
‘I’m looking for Minki Sommer…she was renting the apartment on the third floor.’
‘She left…last night, I think.’
‘Did she say where she was going?’
‘Back home, I suppose.’
It seemed odd that Minki should leave Munich without a word. Now, as Leila walked towards her office, she wondered why Minki had left so suddenly. Perhaps her boss had demanded her presence urgently. More likely, it was triggered by something personal. It had been obvious for some time that Minki had developed a crush on Peter. But as Minki had never discussed it with Leila, there was no way of knowing how serious her feelings had become. Perhaps the couple had rowed and parted on bad terms. Either way, Leila resolved to discuss it with Peter when he came in.
Settling herself at her desk, she began to write up an article for that evening’s print run, all the while keeping an anxious eye out for Peter. He finally arrived before lunch, and began to pack his notebooks into his briefcase.
‘I’m so glad you’re here,’ Leila whispered. ‘There’s something I need to talk to you about.’
‘Of course…I’ll be a while yet.’
Martin Gruber wandered over to Peter’s desk. ‘So, you’re finally leaving…we’ll miss you.’ He shook Peter’s hand.
‘Thank you, Martin. It’s been a pleasure working with you all. And good luck to you – fighting the good fight.’
‘We’ll need it,’ replied Gruber ruefully. ‘The National Socialists look as if they’re going to take many of the seats at the next election. Hitler and his friends have not gone away…’
‘I heard from a friend who works for the US consul here in Munich that Hitler’s conditions at Landsberg are very comfortable,’ said Peter. ‘He has the largest room in the prison, with a view of the garden. And, conveniently, his co-conspirators are housed on either side of him. They call it “the commander’s wing”, apparently.’
‘That’s what we’re up against,’ replied Gruber. ‘I fear he will not receive any punishment there. This is just a chance for him to regroup.’
‘I hope it gives you the chance to do the same,’ said Peter. He picked up his bulging briefcase. ‘Well…I suppose I should get going – I have a train to catch.’
The assembled journalists all duly gathered around Peter’s desk. He smiled and shook hands. But as he took Leila’s hand, he kissed her cheek. ‘It’s been a great pleasure to meet you.’
‘You too,’ she said.
‘There was something you wanted to say?’
‘Oh…it will keep,’ said Leila, embarrassed to raise the subject of Minki in front of her colleagues.
But as Peter left the newsroom, Leila chased after him. ‘Peter,’ she called out, ‘wait a minute.’
‘Yes…’
