Winter of the World

Walter and Maud came to the Lehrte Station, just north of the burned-out Reichstag, to see Ethel and Lloyd off. The station building was in the neo-Renaissance style and looked like a French palace. They were early, and they sat in a station café while they waited for the train.

Lloyd was glad to be leaving. In six weeks he had learned a lot, about the German language and about politics, but now he wanted to get home, tell people what he had seen, and warn them against the same thing happening to them.

All the same he felt strangely guilty about departing. He was going to a place where the law ruled, the press was free, and it was not a crime to be a social democrat. He was leaving the von Ulrich family to live on in a cruel dictatorship where an innocent man could be torn to pieces by dogs and no one would ever be brought to justice for the crime.

The von Ulrichs looked crushed; Walter even more than Maud. They were like people who have heard bad news, or suffered a death in the family. They seemed unable to think much about anything other than the catastrophe that had happened to them.

Lloyd had been released with profuse apologies from the German Foreign Ministry, and an explanatory statement that was abject yet at the same time mendacious, implying that he had got into a brawl through his own foolishness and then had been held prisoner by an administrative error for which the authorities were deeply sorry.

Walter said: ‘I’ve had a telegram from Robert. He’s arrived safely in London.’

As an Austrian citizen Robert had been able to leave Germany without much difficulty. Getting his money out had been more tricky. Walter had demanded that Macke pay the money to a bank in Switzerland. At first Macke had said that was impossible, but Walter had put pressure on him, threatening to challenge the sale in court, saying that Lloyd was prepared to testify that the contract had been signed under duress; and in the end Macke had pulled some strings.

‘I’m glad Robert got out,’ Lloyd said. He would be even happier when he himself was safe in London. His head was still tender and he got a pain in his ribs every time he turned over in bed.

Ethel said to Maud: ‘Why don’t you come to London? Both of you. The whole family, I mean.’

Walter looked at Maud. ‘Perhaps we should,’ he said. But Lloyd could tell that he did not really mean it.

‘You’ve done your best,’ Ethel said. ‘You’ve fought bravely. But the other side won.’

Maud said: ‘It’s not over yet.’

‘But you’re in danger.’

‘So is Germany.’

‘If you came to live in London, Fitz might soften his attitude, and help you.’

Earl Fitzherbert was one of the wealthiest men in Britain, Lloyd knew, because of the coal mines beneath his land in South Wales.

‘He wouldn’t help me,’ Maud said. ‘Fitz doesn’t relent. I know that, and so do you.’

‘You’re right,’ Ethel said. Lloyd wondered how she could be so sure, but he did not get a chance to ask. Ethel went on: ‘Well, you could easily get a job on a London newspaper, with your experience.’

Walter said: ‘And what would I do in London?’

‘I don’t know,’ Ethel said. ‘What are you going to do here? There’s not much point in being an elected representative in an impotent parliament.’ She was being brutally frank, Lloyd felt, but characteristically she was saying what had to be said.

Lloyd sympathized, but felt that the von Ulrichs should stay. ‘I know it will be hard,’ he said. ‘But if decent people flee from Fascism it will spread all the faster.’

‘It’s spreading anyway,’ his mother rejoined.

Maud startled them all by saying vehemently: ‘I will not go. I absolutely refuse to leave Germany.’

They all stared at her.

‘I’m German, and have been for fourteen years,’ she said. ‘This is my country now.’

‘But you were born English,’ said Ethel.

‘A country is mostly the people in it,’ Maud said. ‘I don’t love England. My parents died a long time ago, and my brother has disowned me. I love Germany. For me, Germany is my wonderful husband, Walter; my misguided son, Erik; my alarmingly capable daughter, Carla; our maid, Ada, and her disabled son; my friend Monika and her family; my journalistic colleagues . . . I’m staying, to fight the Nazis.’

‘You’ve already done more than your share,’ Ethel said gently.

Maud’s tone became emotional. ‘My husband has dedicated himself, his life, his entire being to making this country free and prosperous. I will not be the cause of his giving up his life’s work. If he loses that, he loses his soul.’

Ethel pushed the point in a way that only an old friend could. ‘Still,’ she said, ‘there must be a temptation to take your children to safety.’