***
Ursula sat at the bureau plat in the sitting room, staring down at the list in front of her. It did not seem possible, and yet it was. Everything she had set out to do had been accomplished.
They had been in Paris for six days, and for most of that time she had behaved like a whirling dervish, never still for a single moment, and rushing from place to place, attending to her business. Of course on Sunday, the day after they had arrived, she had devoted herself to Maxim. She had taken him and Teddy to the top of the Eiffel Tower, as always keeping any promise she made to him, and afterwards to see some of the other famous sights in Paris. In the afternoon they had gone for a drive through the Bois de Boulogne, before eating an early dinner at a charming bistro on the Left Bank. On Monday morning, bright and early, she had gone to the British Embassy in the Rue Faubourg St-Honore, where she had met with Mr Stiles, a consular official who had been expecting her. He had had the three entry visas for Great Britain waiting for her when she arrived at the appointed hour, and had presented them to her at once. He had been a pleasant man who had told her to get in touch with him if she needed anything else during her stay in Paris.
After lunch, on that same day, she had visited a luggage store where she had purchased extra suitcases, explaining to Teddy that since they had brought so little with them they were going to go shopping for clothes later in the week.
On Tuesday morning she had kept the appointment she had previously made with Monsieur Andre Mallet, head of the Banque Mallet, which was situated in a side street just off the Place Madeleine. After discussing a variety of financial matters with him at great length, she had withdrawn a substantial amount of money from the Westheim account to cover her current expenses. And then, once the business appointments were out of the way, she occupied herself with shopping for two days. Maxim and Teddy had been taken to numerous shops and department stores, where Ursula had purchased warm and attractive winter clothes for them and good strong shoes guaranteed to keep them dry in the rainy English weather.
Now, this afternoon, she planned to select a few outfits for herself. But she had no intention of visiting Jean Patou or any other famous dress designers, for that matter. Haute couture clothes were an extravagance she could no longer afford, but actually this did not trouble her in the least. She had much more pressing and important priorities these days: her family’s survival, to mention only one.
The telephone next to her on the desk began to shrill loudly, and she picked it up at once. The hotel operator told her she had a call from Berlin coming through, and would she please kindly hold on. A few seconds later Sigi was on the line, asking her how she was.
‘What a wonderful surprise!’ she exclaimed, her heart lifting on hearing his dear, familiar voice. ‘I thought you wouldn’t call until tomorrow, or Sunday. I am well, we are all well. How are you?’
‘I am fine. And things at the bank are fine, just the same as usual.’
She knew instantly, and instinctively, that things weren’t fine at all, that there was something dreadfully wrong. His voice was flat, very tense, and the strain in it was pronounced.
‘Sigi, what is it?’ she cried, sitting up in the chair, holding herself stiffly.
‘It’s Mother. I’m afraid she’s quite poorly. She had…’
His voice faded away and there was a great deal of static on the line and a peculiar, hollow echoing sound as if they were talking down a long tunnel. It was another bad connection.
‘Sigi! Sigi! I can’t hear you! What did you say?’
‘I… mother… had a stroke… in the early… Thursday…’ His voice disappeared, then came back. ‘I spent most of yesterday with her… Sigrid… Hedy…’
‘Oh, my God! Your poor mother! Oh no! Not Margarete! Oh Sigi, I’m so sorry.’ She clutched the phone tightly. Her heart was in her throat; she could hardly speak, so stunned was she and filled with dread. Swallowing hard, she asked urgently, ‘What do the doctors say? What’s the prognosis?’ She held her breath, silently praying as she waited for his answer.
‘…not sure… cannot be moved… she cannot join the boy…’
‘Sigi, you keep fading away. Can you hear me?’
‘Yes… I can.’
‘Will she get better?’ Ursula screamed down the phone.
‘We think so. We hope so.’ His voice was now quite distinct and very close, as though he were in the next room. The line was finally clear. ‘But she cannot take her holiday just yet. Do you understand me?
‘I do. Can the others?’
‘…don’t want to…’
‘You! Can you, Sigi?’
‘I… hopefully… as planned. I have to go now, my darling. I…’ The static obliterated his voice completely.
‘Give my love to your mother!’ Ursula shouted. ‘To everyone. I’ll wait for your next call. And Sigi—’
The line was abruptly cut at the Berlin end of the wire.
Ursula was left holding a dead phone in her hand. She replaced it and sat staring at the wall for the longest time, reeling from Sigi’s bad news, so unexpected, so shocking, thinking of her mother-in-law. Poor Margarete. How tragic and distressing that she had had a stroke at this time in her life. Sigi’s mother had never completely recovered from her husband’s death and her health had been faltering of late. And surely this stroke was too much for a frail old lady to bear. Ursula was extremely fond of Margarete, and her compassionate, loving heart now went out to her, and to Sigi. Her husband had always been close to his mother…
Ursula froze in the chair.
A terrible truth came to her. As long as his mother was ill and incapacitated and could not be moved, Sigi would not leave Berlin. Not the Sigmund Westheim she knew. He had too much integrity and responsibility and devotion to abandon the mother he loved, to flee to freedom and safety without her.
NINETEEN
Ursula crossed the Rond-Point at the bottom of the Champs-Elysees and walked down the Avenue Montaigne, shivering slightly, even though she was wearing a thick, cream-wool suit, a heavier wool cream-and-coffee plaid cloak to match, and a tight-fitting cream felt cloche that entirely covered her silver-gilt hair.
It was an exceptionally cold afternoon early in February. A biting northern wind was blowing down from the plains of eastern Europe, and she quickened her step, craving the warmth of the hotel after her long walk back from the Banque Mallet near the Madeleine.
When she had set out earlier, Maxim had wanted to accompany her, but she had insisted he stay inside today. She was relieved now that she had been adamant with him, had remained unmoved by his cajoling and pleading to come with her. He had developed a slight head cold and, despite the radiant sunshine and the blameless, vivid blue sky, the weather was pernicious; the last thing she needed was for her child to become sick.
It was exceedingly worrying to her, and dismaying, that illness was dogging the Westheims at this time. Margarete was still paralysed from the stroke that had felled her in the middle of January, and only a week ago Hedy, Sigmund’s youngest sister, had fallen on the front steps of the house in the Grunewald and broken her shoulder. As a consequence of these health problems, none of the family had yet come to Paris, and the longer she sat waiting for them the more anxious, nervous and frustrated she became. She continually willed herself to be patient, but this was a hard task for her, especially under the present circumstances. She had always been a person of decision and action, and she had lately discovered that playing a waiting game was debilitating, since it was alien to her nature.
As she drew closer to the hotel, she sighed to herself, then tried to push to one side the dismal thoughts which had preoccupied her for most of the day, and which now jostled for prominence in her mind. Ursula felt it was her duty to have a positive demeanour, to be cheerful around her child and Teddy. Not that Teddy needed any cheering up at the moment. Her worry about Willy Herzog had been completely alleviated with the arrival of Willy’s long letter from Palestine, which had been forwarded to
her from London by her Aunt Ketti Berners.
‘He’s out! He’s safe! He’s in Tel Aviv!’ Teddy had shrieked with her usual exuberance, waving the letter in the air, before hurrying to her room to reply to it at once. Ursula had been as joyful as the girl on hearing this good news. It was always heartening for her to learn that another person had managed to escape the Nazi tyranny, had made it out of Germany to freedom in another country.
The uniformed doorman touched his cap and acknowledged her with a friendly nod when she approached the hotel. He opened the door for her, and she swept into the lobby, crossing it briskly.
Ursula stopped at the desk, where Charles, the head concierge, greeted her with a bright smile. ‘A gentleman was here a short while ago, looking for you, Madame Westheim,’ Charles said. ‘He went into the Relais Plaza for tea. He asked me to tell you that he would wait there for you.’
Ursula was startled, and she frowned. ‘Did he give you his name?’
‘No, Madame.’
‘Thank you, Charles,’ she murmured, pulling off her gloves and going directly to the Relais Plaza to look for her mysterious visitor, wondering who it could possibly be. Pushing open the door, she entered the small restaurant linked to the hotel by a short corridor, and paused in the doorway, scanning the room.
He saw her before she spotted him.
He rose and came quickly to meet her.
Ursula caught her breath in happy surprise and her face lit up at the sight of the tall, thin, fair-haired man in the dark business suit who was smiling broadly at her. There he was, larger than life, their dear, dear friend Prince Kurt von Wittingen.
‘Kurt!’ She moved forward, both hands outstretched to him.
He took them in his. ‘Hello, Ursula,’ he said, leaning into her, kissing her cheek. ‘Come, my dear, let us sit down.’ As he spoke he led her to his table in the corner, and after motioning to a waiter and ordering a pot of the China tea which he knew she preferred, he went on: ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t able to let you know in advance that I was coming to Paris. I arrived early this morning from Berlin, and I was picked up at the Gare du Nord by an associate, who took me directly to a business meeting. After that there was a luncheon, and another meeting, and I was never alone for a single moment. It was quite impossible for me to telephone you.’
‘Oh Kurt, that’s all right. It doesn’t matter, really. It’s just so wonderful to see you. I’m glad I returned to the hotel when I did, it would have been an enormous disappointment to me if I had missed you, just awful, in fact.’
‘I would have waited for you, my dear. I wouldn’t have left without seeing you.’
She nodded, gave him a small smile. ‘How is Sigi?’ she asked, anxiously searching his face. ‘Have you seen him?’
‘Yes, a few days ago. And he is well. I told him I would most likely be in Paris this week, and he sends his dearest love to you and Maxim. Ursula, he especially asked me to tell you that you must not worry. He is doing the best he can, and he hopes his mother will be well enough to travel soon. She is now improving, and very rapidly, it seems. He wanted you to know this.’
‘Thank God! I’ve been so concerned about them, and sitting here waiting is dreadfully nerve-racking, as I’m sure you can imagine. And, of course, the phone calls are extremely frustrating. We’re both afraid to say too much, for fear the phones at the Berlin end are tapped, as you suggested they might be. But quite apart from this, the connections are terrible. Half the time we can hardly hear each other. Still, I do live for those calls.’
‘So does Sigi. They have kept him going.’
‘As they have me, Kurt. Do forgive me, I’m being so rude, not asking about Arabella and the children. How are they?’
‘In fine form, and Arabella sends her love, as do Renata and Reinhard. We miss you very much, you know.’
Her lovely luminous eyes filled with tears. ‘Oh Kurt, I miss all of you,’ she murmured, her voice husky with emotion.
He took her hand in his and held it tightly, his gentle face sympathetic, his eyes reflecting his inherent kindness. ‘I know, I know. It is terribly hard for you in so many different ways, but you are in the best place at the moment. Believe me, you are.’
‘Yes.’ She picked up the pot of tea which the waiter had brought whilst they had been talking, and poured herself a cup. There was a tiny silence, and then she glanced at Kurt and confided in a low voice, ‘I had hoped that at least Sigrid and Thomas would join me here, but I suppose Sigrid doesn’t want to leave her mother, and certainly Thomas won’t leave without his wife.’
‘You are quite correct, and of course Sigrid feels she’s needed in Berlin more than ever at the moment, because of Hedy’s broken shoulder.’
‘Poor Hedy, she’s always been accident-prone, and her injury must be excruciatingly painful. But I gathered from Sigi that she is mending.’
‘So I understand.’
Ursula now said in an even quieter voice, ‘Where do the family stand, as far as exit visas are concerned?’ Her grey-blue eyes held his.
He returned her gaze steadfastly. ‘The three I was expecting in the middle of January were given to me then, and they have been passed on. And I received the last two at the end of last month. Sigi already has them in his possession.’
‘So everyone could travel now?’
‘Yes, if Frau Westheim were well enough.’
A relieved smile touched her mouth. ‘Well, that is certainly good to know.’ She reached out, touched his arm affectionately. ‘Thank you, Kurt, for everything you’ve done for us. You have been so very caring, and a true friend.’
‘You know I will always do anything to help you and Sigi.’
Leaning closer, Ursula said, ‘There was a man on the train… a Colonel Oster. He said he was a friend of yours…’ Her voice trailed off, and she gazed at him questioningly.
‘Indeed he is.’
‘You arranged for him to be on that train. It wasn’t a coincidence, was it?’
‘No, but I didn’t actually arrange it. I simply asked my contact if someone could be in your carriage, certainly nearby you, in order to keep an eye on you until after you passed border controls.’
‘And Admiral Canaris agreed?’
Kurt von Wittingen nodded.
‘The admiral has also been wonderful to us,’ Ursula said. ‘He’s another person we will never be able to thank enough. Not ever, as long as we live.’
‘You have thanked him actually, and in a very special way.’
‘How?’
‘Sigi gave me quite a lot of money for a fund the admiral controls… a fund that he uses to help people without money get out of Germany… Jews, Catholics, political refugees. So you have done your bit, so to speak. The admiral was very grateful to Sigi.’
‘I am glad we were able to help with such a positive gesture. It’s very important to come to the aid of other people who are in trouble, especially those who are less fortunate than oneself.’
Kurt smiled at her, then glanced at his watch. He grimaced and shook his head sadly. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t got much longer, Ursula. I must keep my last business appointment at the other side of Paris before I take the night train to Zurich.’
‘Oh Kurt, it’s been so quick, such a short visit…’ She broke off, glanced away so that he would not see the tears starting to gather in her eyes. She longed desperately to detain him, needing his understanding, his warmth and his friendship so much at this moment. He had played an important role in her life because of her relationship with Arabella, and his presence had been particularly reassuring, had brought her such a great measure of comfort this afternoon.
Kurt asked for the bill and when it came he put enough money on the table to cover it, rose and helped her up from the banquette where they were sitting. He lifted his briefcase and overcoat from the chair nearby, and led her out into the lobby.
They paused for a moment and turned to face each other.
Kurt said, ‘I have a few minutes to spare
, Ursi. May I come up to the suite to see Maxim?’
‘That would be lovely, Kurt.’ She broke into smiles. ‘Maxim will be so thrilled to see you.’
‘Then let’s go,’ he said, putting one hand under her elbow, guiding her in the direction of the elevator.
***
‘Uncle Kurt! Uncle Kurt!’
Maxim slid off the sofa where he sat with Teddy reading one of his books, and hurtled across the sitting room.
Kurt quickly placed his briefcase and overcoat on a chair in the small foyer, and swept the boy up into his arms when he reached him and hugged him close.
A second later he put him down on the floor, lowered his lanky frame into a hunkering position in front of him and looked into Maxim’s flushed face. ‘Hello, Maxim, I came all the way from Berlin to see you.’
‘Is Papa here?’ Maxim asked excitedly, looking past him to the door. ‘Did you bring my papa?’
Kurt shook his head. ‘No, old fellow, I didn’t,’ he said in a gentle voice. ‘But I did bring much love and many kisses from him, and he told me to tell you that he will be here in no time at all.’
Maxim beamed with happiness on hearing this news. ‘Soon? Will Papa come soon?’
‘Indeed he will.’ Kurt straightened and stood up, took hold of Maxim’s hand, and together they walked into the sitting room. After greeting Teddy, Kurt seated himself on a chair, picked up the four-year-old boy and settled him comfortably on his knee.
Maxim peered into his face. ‘Did Christian come? And Diana? Are they here?’
‘No, they’re not, Maxim. They’re with their mother in Berlin.’
‘I wish they were here, then I could play with them, couldn’t I?’
‘Yes, you could. Now, tell me what you’ve been doing in Paris, old fellow.’
Maxim, who was an articulate child, started his recital by explaining that he had been to the top of the Eiffel Tower with his mother and Teddy, went on to enumerate the other sights they had seen, and listed everything they had done since they had arrived in Paris. The prince listened most attentively, nodding, and smiling lovingly at the boy.