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As the morning wore on, she wrote a few notes for a possible book about the way the government were controlling the population through propaganda. It was just an idea at this stage, but it gave her something to focus on.
When her mother returned, Leila joined her in the kitchen. ‘Have you heard anything?’ her mother asked, as she made coffee.
‘Of course not,’ Leila snapped. ‘I’d have told you if I had.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Hannah, ‘I didn’t mean…’
‘No, I’m sorry, Mutti.’ Leila wrapped her arms round her mother. ‘I just feel so desperate.’
‘I know,liebling…’
At lunchtime, Hannah prepared some soup, but Leila couldn’t eat. Finally, abandoning any thought of work, she spent the rest of the afternoon sitting by the phone in the hall, waiting for Adler to ring and give her the news she was so desperate to hear.
She was still sitting by the phone when her mother returned with the children. Axel followed Hannah into the kitchen, but Sofia lingered with her mother. ‘Is he out of prison yet?’ she asked softly.
‘I’m not sure, darling. I’m still waiting to speak to the lawyer. Go and have some tea in the kitchen.’
Reluctantly, Sofia left. As soon as she was out of earshot, Leila dialled Adler’s number. ‘You hadn’t rung, so I thought I should call you. What’s happening?’
There was a pause. ‘It’s not good news, I’m afraid, Leila. They won’t release either Julius or Viktor.’
Leila felt a sharp pain in her ribs, as if she had been kicked. She could barely breathe. ‘Why not?’
‘I don’t know – there’s absolutely no logic to it. It’s almost as if the judge has been pressured into it. All I know is that they are going to be sent to Stadelheim Prison – it’s not far away, just in the southern suburbs.’
‘I know where it is…’
Sofia put her head round the kitchen door. Leila, struggling to contain her emotions, smiled bravely at her.
‘You’ll keep trying to get them released?’ she asked Adler.
‘Of course. I’m preparing an appeal now – I’ll let you know how it goes. I’m so sorry it’s not better news. Please stay safe yourself, and call me in a few days – I might know more by then.’
24
BERLIN
March 1933
Minki’s guilt at failing her friend ate away at her. Leila had always been so supportive, ever since they had met one another. She had been there for Minki when Peter Fischer had deserted her, when she was first pregnant, and when her beloved child was born – and had never asked Minki for anything in return. Yet the first time Leila had asked for help, Minki had let her down.
There was clearly nothing Minki could do to persuade Goebbels to change his mind and intercede for Viktor, but she could, in some small way, repay Leila by re-entering journalism and opposing the growing totalitarianism around her. Clara was now fourteen months old – happy and healthy and cared for by a young nursemaid called Ida. It was time to get back to work – not her old job as women’s editor, but real journalism – political journalism. What was the point of writing articles about cookery and knitting when terrible injustices were being meted out to innocent people like Viktor and Leila?
Although Hitler had suppressed dissident newspapers like theMunich Post, more centrist papers still existed. TheDeutsche Allgemeine Zeitung, for example, where she had worked as editor of the women’s pages, though increasingly right-wing, had a reputation for objective reporting. She decided to call her old editor and sound him out about a job, but first she needed to discuss it with Max.
Minki was waiting for him in the sitting room when he came back from work that evening. He seemed excited as he poured them both a drink. ‘It’s finally official. Goebbels has been appointed “Minister for the People’s Education and Propaganda”, he announced grandly. ‘He’s planning on initiating daily press briefings. He’s really going to crack the whip with the press, show them who’s boss.’ He laughed, and downed his first brandy of the evening. ‘There’s a new broom in town and its name is Joseph Goebbels.’
‘I don’t see what’s so funny, Max. Personally, I find it rather alarming. This obsession Joseph has to control everything is blatant censorship.’
Max looked startled, but she persisted. ‘You can’t keep the lid on truth forever, Max. It always comes out in the end. Joseph seems to think he’s justified in suppressing anything that doesn’t fit with his world view.’
‘He’s simply doing his job, Minki. We need to control information, direct people to accept the truth as we see it.’
‘We, Max?’
‘Of course, “We”. I’m a member of the Party now, remember. My job is to support their initiatives.’
Max went over to the drinks tray and poured himself another brandy. Minki studied him with something approaching despair. She had understood that his joining the Party was pure expediency. Now it seemed he was a true believer. It struck her that she should keep quiet about her plan to enter political journalism. It was clear they were on different sides, and, if he knew she intended to write about politics, he would be bound to disapprove, or even prevent her returning at all.
