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‘These first, Mutti,’ she said, handing her mother a pair of dark-red pearlised metal baubles.
‘They’re very pretty,’ agreed Minki, arranging the ornaments on the lower branches. Within half an hour, the tree had been festooned with sparkling decorations and tinsel, with brass candle holders clipped onto the branches.
Finally, Minki climbed a stepladder, clutching an angel to place on top of the tree. ‘This evening, Clara,’ she explained over her shoulder, ‘we’ll put candles in the holders and light them. The whole thing will come alive.’
Suddenly, Minki heard an odd guttural sound behind her – an animal-like growl, followed by a thud. She turned her head and saw Clara lying on her back on the floor. The girl looked as if she had passed out but, oddly, her eyes were wide open, the eyeballs rolled up into their sockets. Her rosebud mouth was flecked with white froth.
‘Clara, Clara!’ screamed Minki, nearly falling off the stepladder.
Lena ran in from the dining room. ‘What’s the matter, madam?’
‘It’s Clara,’ Minki shouted. ‘Look, I think she’s having a heart attack.’
‘I’ll call the doctor,’ said Lena, running to the telephone in the hall.
Minki dropped to her knees, stroking Clara’s hair, smoothing her forehead and listening to her heart, which, to her relief, was beating soundly, if a little fast. ‘Baby girl, wake up,’ she whispered. The child lay stiff, her fists clenched, her teeth grinding. All Minki could do was watch with a sense of utter helplessness.
Finally, Clara began to relax. Her eyes rolled back into position, her fists unclenched and the strange guttural sounds subsided. She looked up at her mother and smiled beatifically. ‘Mama…the angel.’
‘Yes, darling…the angel’s on top of the tree. I’ll show you in a minute.’
The doctor arrived quickly, and found Minki still hunched over Clara beneath the Christmas tree. Minki did her best to explain what she had seen. The doctor nodded sagely, and stroked his beard thoughtfully, before kneeling at Clara’s side. He rested a cushion beneath her head and gently examined her body. Opening his instrument bag, he measured her heart rate, blood pressure and temperature.
He turned to Minki and smiled. ‘Well, Frau vonZeller, you’ll be glad to hear that your daughter’s vital signs are normal, and no bones are broken.’ He picked Clara up and laid her gently on the sofa. ‘Let me tell you what I think has happened to her. I believe your daughter has suffered a minor epileptic seizure. It’s not uncommon in small children. She may have had a slight temperature, and when they’re young children cannot regulate these things properly. Occasionally, it causes these temporary problems. I’ve seen it many times in my career. It will probably never happen again. My advice is to get her to bed. She’ll sleep well tonight. The brain has experienced an overload of activity.’ The doctor smiled encouragingly.
Minki nodded, trying hard to concentrate on what he was saying.
‘Do try not to worry,’ said the doctor, patting her shoulder. ‘And call me again if you have any concerns.’
‘Even over Christmas?’
‘Of course – that’s not a problem. Call me any time.’
Minki carried Clara up to bed. But rather than feeling sleepy, the little girl was animated and wide awake.
‘Look Mutti…giraffe,’ she said, pointing at the wallpaper in her nursery, which was decorated with animals. ‘Tiger, Mama, lion…big brown bear…’
‘How clever of you,’ said Minki, stroking the child’s hair. Interestingly, although Clara had often made the sound of a roaring lion or a squeaking mouse, she had never identified them by name before.
‘Lions roar like this,’ said Clara, bellowing so loudly it reminded Minki of the guttural moaning she had heard earlier.
‘You must go to sleep now, darling. I’m sure you’re tired.’
But Clara’s blue eyes were wide open and glinting. ‘Clara not tired. Clara want story.’
While Ida tidied the nursery, Minki picked out Clara’s favourite storybook from the bookshelf and began to read. Soon, she heard the sound of Max’s car crunching over the gravel outside, and then his low voice as he spoke to Lena in the hall below.
Minki heard him climb the stairs. He stopped outside the nursery door, as if he were preparing himself. Finally, he opened the door with a flourish.
‘Hello there,’ he said cheerfully. ‘How are my two best girls? I hear this little one wasn’t so well today.’
‘No, but the doctor says she should be fine now. Just a temperature, he thought.’
‘Oh, good.’ Max kissed his wife’s head, before leaning over Clara’s bed and kissing her cheek. ‘Now you must go to sleep. Mummy and Daddy have important friends coming for supper, and Mummy has to go and make herself beautiful.’
‘Mummy beautiful,’ echoed Clara.
Minki burst into tears – of relief, despair and exhaustion.
