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No allowance is made for the health and well-being of either children or mothers. Women are treated as mere cogs in a machine. Take the case of a 35-year-old woman I heard about recently. Ill with consumption and pneumothorax, she was pregnant for the fourth time. Her doctor was doubtful the child would be born healthy, and suggested a termination. But a group of Nazi ‘experts’ who examined the case forbade it, declaring: ‘The Third Reich demands from every married couple – even those with tuberculosis – a minimum of four children.’
Is it any wonder that women in Nazi Germany are becoming disillusioned?
‘Dinner’s ready, Mutti.’ Sofia came into the sitting room, breaking Leila’s train of thought. She stood behind her mother, her hands resting on her shoulders.
‘Oh, Sofia – thank you. Have you done it already?’
‘Yes…it wasn’t difficult.’
‘I’m sorry – I meant to help, but I must have lost track of the time.’
Sofia kissed the top of her mother’s head, and scanned the page in the typewriter. ‘Interesting stuff,’ she said. ‘Those poor women…The Nazis are just using them as baby machines, aren’t they? How appalling.’
Leila turned to look at her daughter. ‘You’re absolutely right, Sofia. I’m afraid the regime in Germany no longer sees people as individuals with free will, but as a part of a totalitarian machine. People are just pawns, to be moved about and controlled. What is extraordinary is that so many Germans actually voted for this insanity. It’s a warning to all of us. Governments should carry out the will of the people, and not the other way round.’
Sofia kissed the top of her mother’s head. ‘I’m so glad you’re my mother.’
Leila hugged her. ‘And I am fortunate to have you as a daughter. Now…let’s go and eat and, if you’re lucky, I’ll make apple fritters for pudding.’
29
BERLIN
August 1941
Minki was kneeling on the floor of the nursery, watching Clara in the final stages of a grand mal seizure. Minki’s initial horror and fear of her daughter’s epilepsy had long since subsided. Now she merely had to make sure Clara did not choke on her own tongue, and wasn’t near anything hard or sharp that could injure her.
Apart from the seizures once or twice a week, Clara’s life was remarkably normal, with one important exception – she had never attended school. Fearing that the authorities might find out about her condition and insist on sterilising her child, Minki had taken the decision to educate her at home. She had converted an upstairs bedroom into a schoolroom, and Clara was now a proficient reader, a competent mathematician, and had a good understanding of history, geography and science. Minki was surprised at how much she enjoyed teaching her daughter. Clara was intelligent and attentive, and their lessons enabled Minki to revisit some of the books from her own childhood. Clara was good with her hands too. Minki’s own mother had taught her to sew when she was a little child, and now she passed that knowledge on to Clara. It gave her a huge sense of satisfaction that a childhood skill she had learned could be passed on to a third generation. The one talent Minki lacked was cookery, so one afternoon a week the housekeeper taught Clara how to make cakes, biscuits and simple supper dishes.
In many ways, Minki was proud of her daughter’s achievements, but she also understood that however delightful their life was together, Clara needed more than mere learning. At the age of nine, she was a bright, sociable child who yearned for friendship with other children, which home-schooling could not provide.
This problem was alleviated to some extent by Clara’s two younger brothers. The twins had been born a couple of years after their sister and fortunately showed no signs of epilepsy. Felix and Wilhelm, known affectionately as Willy, were happy, energetic, rumbustious boys, who occasionally joined in Clara’s lessons, but spent most of the time playing noisy games in the nursery or the garden.
Now aged seven, the boys were about to start school. This presented Minki with a problem: what they might say about their sister.
On the eve of their first day, Minki sat the boys down for a chat. ‘I’d rather you didn’t mention you have a sister. But if someone finds out about her, and asks why she’s not at school with you, just say she goes to another school away from here…all right?’
The boys looked puzzled. ‘But why, Mutti?’
‘Because there are nasty people in the world who might want to take Clara away from us if they knew she had epilepsy. So, please promise me, Willy…Felix…to say nothing about Clara and her illness.’
The boys nodded, but Minki feared they had not really understood.
Predictably, Clara was indignant that the boys were allowed to attend school and she was not. When asked why, Minki struggled to think of a plausible explanation.
‘Because…your school might not understand your condition, darling,’ Minki faltered. ‘It’s better to teach you at home, where I can look after you.’
Clara looked doubtful. ‘But you can’t look after me forever, Mutti.’
Minki smiled. ‘No, but when you’re a grown-up you won’t need me so much. You’ll have a husband and children of your own, and they’ll look after you.’
Minki hoped that would be the end of the discussion, but that evening, over dinner, Max also raised the subject of Clara attending school. ‘I understand why you like to teach her at home, but she needs to get out into the world and make friends.’
‘Has she been talking to you?’
‘Well, yes…she has. She feels so left out, and I can understand why. Obviously a normal school is out of the question – she would need to go somewhere that can cope with her epilepsy. But my aunt went to a specialist boarding school, and her life wasn’t too bad.’
‘What rubbish! Your aunt lived her entire life in a mental institution,’ retorted Minki. ‘She went away and never came home again. I can’t believe you would want to condemn your own daughter to a similar fate.’
