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Leila held the glass to the girl’s lips, and patted her brow with a damp flannel. ‘Are you feeling better now?’
Sofia nodded silently. Leila picked her up and carried her through to the bedroom she shared with her younger brother. Although it was early in the morning, the boy was already awake, sitting cross-legged in his pyjamas, banging a metal toy train loudly on the wooden floorboards. The noise tore through Leila’s thumping head – it had been a long night caring for Sofia.
‘Axel, sweetheart, stop doing that. Sofia’s not well and she’s tired.’
Axel shrugged and wandered out of the room. ‘Daddy, Daddy,’ he called out. Within minutes Viktor appeared at the children’s bedroom door. ‘How is she?’
‘She was sick again. I don’t think there’s much left, poor little thing. I’ll get her into bed. Perhaps I should stay at home today…’
‘There’s no need, Leila. I can do that. I’ve got a new manuscript to start editing. I can do it as easily here as in the office – more easily really.’
‘Oh, all right. But what about Axel – won’t he disturb you? Perhaps I should take him to my mother?’
‘Yes, that’s a good idea – she can take him to the park to run off a bit of steam. I can collect him later.’
Leila reached up to her husband. ‘You’re the nicest man, really you are.’
‘Don’t be silly.’ He leaned down and kissed her. ‘Now, go and get ready. I’ll look after this little one.’
Leila and Viktor had now been married for just over six years. Their daughter, Sofia, was born nine months after their wedding celebrations – almost to the day. Leila had, of course, been delighted to find she was pregnant – having children had always been important to her. But the early arrival of a child had left little time for her and Viktor to be together as a couple, and there was a tiny part of her which regretted that. Axel had arrived two years later and the pair decided that their family was now complete. With each child Leila had only taken a couple of months off from theMunich Post, and it was a constant juggling act. Leila’s parents had been a huge help and stepped in when necessary, but without Viktor’s constant and flexible support life would have been impossible.
There were times when Leila would watch her husband cuddling Sofia and Axel on the sofa before supper, or listen to him reading bedtime stories, and think to herself that she was the luckiest, most contented woman in the world.
Later that morning, Leila dropped Axel at her mother’s apartment. As she hurried to work, she glanced down at her watch, and she realised she was over an hour late.
The newsroom was already bustling with activity by the time she arrived.
‘Ah, there you are, Leila,’ said Julius Zerfass. ‘Martin was looking for you earlier – he’s in his office.’
Leila hurried over to Martin Gruber’s office. He and Edmund were studying some papers as she arrived.
‘Good, Leila, here you are,’ said Martin. ‘Come in…take a seat.’
Leila sat down gingerly, and instantly began to apologise. ‘I’m sorry I was so late…Sofia’s not very well.’
‘Don’t worry about that. She’s all right now?’ Martin asked.
Leila nodded.
‘Good, because I need to talk to you about the Reichstag elections next week.’
‘What about them?’
‘I want you to go to Berlin with Edmund.’
‘Me…go to Berlin? Are you sure?’
‘Yes, of course. It will be good experience for you, and Edmund will need an assistant.’
‘I’d be honoured, obviously,’ she replied.
‘What about the children – will Viktor mind?’ asked Martin.
‘Of course not. It’s my job – he’ll understand. And my mother can help out.’
‘Excellent. We’re just going through the list of parliamentary seats, working out our plan of action. Here are the details.’ Martin handed her a file of papers. ‘The National Socialists are throwing everything at this election. The financial crash has created the perfect environment for them to make ground. We have seven million unemployed in Germany now, and it’s only going to get worse. There’s a good chance that Hitler and his Party will take a considerable number of seats.’
Leila was aghast. ‘Could they win a majority?’
