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‘Who do you write for?’ asked Hitler.
‘Deutsche Allgemeine Zeitung. I’m the deputy features editor – but only of the women’s pages,’ she added almost apologetically.
‘She’s wasted there,’ said Goebbels, handing her a drink. ‘She would make a wonderful political reporter…she has all the right instincts. I’ve tried to persuade her to join my own newspaper, but she’s reluctant. Maybe you can convince her?’
‘Oh, Joseph really…’ said Minki, laughing. Joseph had founded the National Socialist Party newspaperDer Angriffa few years earlier, and had tried in vain to persuade Minki to join its ranks.
Hitler gave a tight-lipped smile, but his bright blue gaze never left Minki’s face. ‘I wouldn’t dream of telling the lady how to live her life,’ he said. ‘But I hope we can get better acquainted this evening.’
When the guests moved through to the dining room for dinner, they found little place cards had been laid out above each place setting – each printed with a tiny swastika. To her surprise, Minki found her place card next to Hitler’s. He pulled out her chair for her before sitting down beside her. While wine was served, she surveyed the other guests. They were a predictably dull group. Goebbels took up his position at the head of the table with Hitler on his right. To his left was a dumpy little woman with mousy-coloured hair and a lavender dress. Next to her sat a tall thin man with a slit of a mouth and an unnaturally high forehead. They introduced themselves to Minki as Hilda and Otto Schneider and announced, proudly, that Otto owned a steel factory outside Berlin.
Goebbels had long since abandoned his libertarian, artistic friends. These people were obviously devoted Party supporters – the women were dressed conventionally in prim cocktail dresses, and the men wore smart dark suits. But one man, seated at the far end of the table, stood out. Resplendent in an elegant black dinner jacket, he was fair-haired and well built. He was chatting amiably to the woman on his right, but kept glancing up the table towards Minki. They smiled at one another, each acknowledging the other as somehow outside this group of dreary, conventional-looking people.
The conversation over dinner revolved around the coming election. Predictably, Hitler took the lead, his voice deep and sonorous. ‘This election in a week’s time is our chance. We must take it with both hands. People are beginning to get disillusioned. Money is tight and unemployment is on the rise. We can offer them an alternative:the chance of a better life.’
‘How can you possibly promise that?’ asked Minki boldly.
Hitler turned to her, once again fixing her with his powerful gaze. ‘I will make Germany a great European power again. I will take back the territory that was stolen from us after the war. I will put the people back to work, and build up our industries. The people of this country will be proud to call themselves German again.’
The diners all murmured their approval, and the woman opposite suddenly blurted out, ‘Heil Hitler.’ Surprised and a little shocked by her intervention, the other diners fell silent. The woman blushed with embarrassment, and her husband placed his hand on his wife’s arm, muttering, ‘Hilda, my dear, please…’
But Hitler, clearly delighted by this outburst, was all smiles. ‘I thank you, dear lady. It is women like you who are the backbone of this country. You are the wives and mothers who give love and succour to the men who will make Germany great again. I salute you.’ He held up his glass and toasted her. The woman giggled, covering her mouth with her hand, while her husband beamed proudly.
Hitler then turned to Minki. ‘You are also important, Fräulein,’ he murmured softly. ‘You write articles for women – yes?’
‘Yes.’
‘My Party understand the importance of sending the right message to the homemakers of this country. You have a vital part to play in helping us to succeed.’
Minki laughed. ‘You really think that writing articles about how to make a good dinner out of cheap ingredients will help?’
‘Of course. We must all work together now to make Germany great. Running a house properly is as important as running the country, something women instinctively understand. That’s why they are essential to our victory. The National Socialists will never win elections without the support of women.’
After dinner the group retired to the drawing room. Goebbels sat at the piano and proceeded to play. Minki recognised it as a Beethoven piece – ‘Für Elise’ – which had been part of her own mother’s repertoire. Minki had never heard Goebbels play before and was surprised at his hidden talent. He really was the most remarkable man, she thought. He finished the piece with a flourish of his hand, stood up and acknowledged the applause of his guests. The handsome man in the dinner jacket stood up and sauntered over to the piano. ‘It sounds a fine instrument, Joseph. Might I play?’
‘Of course, Max.’
The man sat down, flexed his fingers, and began to play a much more complex piece of music.
The other guests listened attentively for a few minutes, but soon began to chat among themselves. Minki, however, was mesmerised. She wandered over to the piano and draped herself across it. ‘That’s wonderful,’ she said. ‘What is it?’
‘Schubert,’ replied the man. He reached the end of a phrase and stopped. ‘I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. My name is Max vonZeller.’
‘Minki Sommer. It’s nice to meet you. Please, don’t stop…do carry on.’
He made space for her beside him on the long piano stool, and continued his performance. She listened with rapt attention, enchanted by his dexterous hands and obvious affinity with the music.
At the end of Max’s recital, the assembled guests applauded politely. ‘Enough, I think,’ he said, closing the lid on the piano keys. ‘People can only be polite for so long.’
‘Well, I think they must be philistines if they didn’t love it,’ said Minki. ‘Is that what you do for a living – play the piano?’
He laughed. ‘No. I learned as a boy and like the chance to show off. But Iamin the arts.’
‘Oh, really? What do you do?’
‘I am a film producer at the studios in Potsdam.’
‘How fascinating. What sort of films?’
