Women at War

by Jan Casey

  Creeping to the door, Annie peered through the spyhole and observed her. She was breathing heavily and her eyes were swollen and red from crying for weeks, but there were no signs of rancour on her face. As she watched, Frau Wilhelm flung herself against the door and battered it with the flat of her hand. ‘Annie,’ she cried softly. ‘Do not deny me.’

  Taking a deep breath, Annie opened the door. Perhaps she was in for a chastisement or spiel about her lack of integrity, a cold shoulder or an interrogation into how she had led Walther astray. But what she had not been expecting was the usually well-composed doctor’s wife flinging herself into her arms as if she were throwing herself on charity. In another time and situation, the scene that unfolded would have been most comical. In fact, Annie liked to think that Walther was looking down on them and laughing, encouraging her, as he always did, to join him in finding the humour in themselves. There in the hallway, as Frau Wilhelm tried to hug her and close the door behind her in one seamless movement, they lost their balance and fell to the floor, bringing down the umbrella stand and a potted plant with them.

  ‘Annie, Annie,’ Frau Wilhelm cried. ‘Oh no, this is impossible.’ She gained her feet in the most undignified manner imaginable, unwittingly showing her bloomers and the rolled and knotted tops of her stockings in the process. Despite everything, Annie could not stop a giggle from escaping her throat. ‘Annie,’ Frau Wilhelm said. ‘Are you hurt? Hysterical? I will run back for Herr Doctor.’

  ‘No, no, I am in one piece,’ Annie said, reaching for the bannister to help her to her feet.

  ‘Give me your hands,’ Frau Wilhelm said, in control again. ‘You must not put any strain on yourself.’ Two deep lines of concern formed near her eyebrows. ‘Let me help you.’

  Annie allowed herself to be pulled up, muttering all the time that she was absolutely fine. Then they stood, out of breath and awkward, staring at each other in their dark dresses and lack of makeup or adornment. ‘May I?’ Frau Wilhelm said, pointing to the living room.

  ‘Of course,’ Annie said, gesturing to one of the chairs beyond the door. ‘Please make yourself comfortable. Would you like coffee?’

  Suspended partway towards a sitting position, Frau Wilhelm said, ‘But please let me get it for you. You shouldn’t be running around after me in your condition.’

  Again Annie told her that she was perfectly well. ‘I will not be long,’ she said, disappearing into the kitchen. But then Frau Wilhelm was there behind her, looming so close she could feel her breath and the faint odour of unwashed hair. Oh no, Annie thought. If she and Herr Doctor grant me their acceptance and beneficence, she will hover around me like this for months and I’m afraid it will be all I can do not to scream aloud – then she immediately felt guilty for the thought. She clamped her jaws together; Walther’s parents were good people and she would need them to get through this difficult time. Turning to Frau Wilhelm, she smiled and said, ‘Can you take the cups to the table for me, please?’

  Frau Wilhelm seemed to be stunned out of a deep reverie. ‘Yes, of course,’ she said, happy to be asked to help. ‘Annie,’ she said softly. ‘Fred has spoken to us of your predicament.’

  Annie could not turn from the coffee pot. ‘I am so sorry, Frau Wilhelm,’ she said. ‘That at such a time of terrible trouble, I have heaped more upon everyone I love.’

  ‘Come. Sit down,’ the older woman said. Annie noticed that Frau Wilhelm’s hair, which she had envied for its thickness and dark shine, now appeared dull and uncared for. Annie supposed that brushing fifty strokes every night before bed was the least of anyone’s concerns now. Both of their hands were shaking as they lifted the hot coffee to their mouths.

  ‘I’m afraid I have no cake or even a biscuit to offer you,’ Annie said.

  Frau Wilhelm shook her head. ‘I have no appetite at the moment.’

  ‘Nor I.’

  Then they both began to speak at the same time, but out of deference, Annie allowed Frau Wilhelm to continue. ‘You have nothing to be ashamed of or sorry about.’ Her eyes narrowed; her knuckles whitened around the handle of her cup. ‘What is the one thing that makes this situation intolerable?’ Annie didn’t attempt to answer as she knew that was not what was wanted of her. ‘The one and only thing that is regrettable is that Walther is not here.’ Her voice caught in her throat and Annie knew Frau Wilhelm was struggling to continue, but she managed to do so with clarity, ‘That my lovely son is… dead. There, that is the first time I have been able to say the word.’ Annie reached for her hand. ‘Dead,’ Frau Wilhelm whispered into the distance. Her hand twitched in Annie’s and she gulped in a long, silent, shuddering breath that she released through a gaping mouth.

  Annie put her arms around her and held tight, wanting nothing else at that moment than to be able to give Walther’s mother some comfort. When she looked down at Frau Wilhelm’s face, cradled against her chest, there was a tiny pool of liquid quivering above her lip. With diminishing convulsions, Frau Wilhelm pulled herself together, wiped around her face with a handkerchief and said, ‘It is the fault of… you know who and his comrades. How I despise all of them,’ she spat, snarling her lips and baring her teeth.

  ‘Yes, we agree on that,’ Annie said. ‘If Walther were here, then all would be well. I want you and Herr Doctor to know that things were settled between us and we intended to tell you when he…’ Now it was Annie’s turn to choke on what she had to say. ‘Returned.’

  They nodded at each other in complete accord.

  ‘We know that to be true, Annie. Walther intimated as much to us the night before he was posted and we were most happy. But not surprised.’ Then she cleared her throat and was business-like again. ‘Fred came to us with an idea, but what do you want to happen now, Annie?’

  ‘I do not want to give up my baby, Frau Wilhelm,’ Annie said, wanting to make that perfectly clear before anything else. ‘I will not terminate or surrender this gift from Walther. No matter how many people tell me one of those solutions would be the best thing to do.’

  ‘You will never hear that from me, or Herr Doctor.’ Frau Wilhelm’s features looked as though they were set in stone. ‘Do you know, that we thought we would have four children.’ Annie raised her eyebrows in surprise. ‘Yes, four or maybe even five. But fate stepped in and after I had Walther I could not have any more. So, imagine if I had, for some reason got rid of my beautiful boy? Herr Doctor and I would have been childless. Unimaginable.’ She shook her head. ‘A baby is always, in my opinion, a blessing.’

  ‘If you have someone to love and help you,’ Annie said, thinking of the girls in her position who might not have anyone to turn to.

  ‘But you have Fred,’ she said. ‘And us.’ She gripped Annie’s hand with what felt like all her strength. ‘We will stand by you in any way we can. Let us help you and our grandchild. I beg you. We will instigate Fred’s marvellous plan. All we ask is to be a part of our grandchild’s life.’

  Annie could not believe how worried Frau Wilhelm seemed that she might accept her and Herr Doctor’s help with the fake marriage and then reject their involvement with them beyond that. Of course she would not allow that to happen. She was blessed and fortunate and knew how very different things could be for her if Fred and this benevolent couple had decided to disown her. Not even the lowlife Nazis, who think of nothing but their own debauched pleasures, would want her. If she were in that dreadful bind, how could she possibly avoid getting rid of the baby? Her hand found her stomach and rubbed the tiny bump that had recently appeared. ‘My most fervent wish for my child is that the little one would have had the chance to know his or her father,’ Annie said. ‘But given the circumstances, I could want for nothing more than that the baby have you, Herr Doctor and his uncle Fred. And I know that Walther would want the same.’

  Frau Wilhelm wiped a stray tear from her cheek. ‘Fred told me you would say so,’ she said. ‘But I had to make sure that this is how you want to proceed.’

  Annie took a deep breath. ‘I am
positive,’ she said.

  Frau Wilhelm smiled. A broad, genuine smile that seemed to cut, momentarily, through her grief. ‘I told my husband that if I did not return within the hour, he and Fred could assume that all was well and they could move forward with the grand plan.’

  ‘The sooner the better,’ Annie said.

  Together they moved from the kitchen to the cosier living room and talked of the happier, light-hearted things that women discuss when a baby is announced. Did Annie think the baby would be a boy or a girl? Annie thought a boy and if that came to fruition she would call him Walther. Frau Wilhelm clapped her hands together and closed her eyes in near ecstasy when she heard that. What about baby clothes? They decided that after the false paperwork was complete, they would begin to knit and sew what was needed. Frau Wilhelm said that it would not be professionally possible for her husband to care for Annie or attend the birth, but he would ensure that she was put on the books of a doctor he recommended. And all being well, she would have the baby at home under the care of a midwife. In their attic, they had Walther’s baby crib complete with drapes and linen. They would retrieve it, give it a dust and Herr Doctor would sand it down and varnish it. Frau Wilhelm would wash and mend the bedding. What did Annie think of all that? Annie thought it sounded wonderful. More than she had dared to hope for.

  9 June 1943

  Fred did not waste any time in getting the certificate. There had never been a need for me to see such a document, but even to my inexperienced eye, it looked legitimate. Herr Doctor and Frau Wilhelm said it appeared lawful and correct; no one would ever suspect that it was forged. So, I have one copy, Fred another and Walther’s parents a third and fourth. Fred said we needed a number because if we are bombed out or have to get away quickly and we accidentally leave it behind, we will not be able to go to the Town Hall like every other married couple and get a copy.

  So my dream has come true and I am married to Walther. And if anybody asks I have the proof. There is a ring on my finger and on the table in front of me, next to his notification of death in action, is our marriage certificate.

  Annie spent her time in the house, preparing to give birth. She sewed, knitted, cleaned, kept her journal, cooked, read, tended the vegetable patch. She wandered to the shops or to see Frau Wilhelm who clucked around her like a broody hen – sometimes she wondered who was having this baby. Her time at the university with the resistance group seemed to have been another life. Fred still went off every day and he told her there was no longer any underground activity that he could discern, but she was not sure she believed him – he came home too late and was too agitated to have been lecturing and researching all day. She no longer questioned him because if he were to tell her he had resumed writing and distributing leaflets or spreading graffiti, she would go insane – because of her anxiety for him and because she could not be involved.

  And tonight, of all nights, he was late again. The doors were locked and the windows latched, but still Annie jumped when the wind toyed with a loose window frame and she started at what might be a mouse scratching behind the skirting or when what should be the familiar sound of a creaking floorboard emitted a thin squeak. She sat on her bed, writing what she thought would turn out to be nonsense in her journal, grateful to have something to half-occupy her mind. Her knicker drawer was open so that if that despicable man Horst knocked, she could bury the evidence.

  Earlier in the day, she’d had a pleasant couple of hours with Frau Wilhelm. They’d chatted and she was shown how to embroider a panel on a nightdress she was making for the baby. Herr Doctor had joined them during a break from treating patients and he questioned her about her health. Despite the fact he could not administer to her, he took her blood pressure, pulse, temperature, checked her ankles for swelling and pulled down her eyelids to scrutinise for signs of anaemia. She’d felt both manhandled and fortified when he had finished – and very relieved when he gave her the okay.

  The walk home had been enjoyable; she’d admired sunflowers, rhododendron, zinnias and peonies. A ginger cat sunned himself on the warm bricks of a wall. Two little girls and a boy scraped their toes through the dirt as they walked back to school after the midday break. She’d watched them for a long time, dawdling and picking up seeds and stones and leaves and inspecting them as if they were treasures. They’d made her laugh with their sleeves that were too short and their unruly hair. A plane flew through the light clouds overhead and only Annie had paused to look up. Nothing was going to get in the way of the children and their exploration of nature. Who amongst us, Annie had thought, has got it right? Certainly not the one adult present.

  Then she’d rounded the corner to their little street and there he was – Horst – squirming with impatience and peering through the front window. Unfortunately, he’d spied her, too, so she couldn’t turn and retrace her steps. He’d lifted his pudgy hand in a salute and called, ‘Heil Hitler’. A few curtains twitched but soon resumed their smooth folds when they saw the big, bad, menacing figure of a Wehrmacht officer in their neighbourhood. It’s only Horst, she’d wanted to reassure them, you remember him, don’t you? The little guy whose trousers never used to fit properly? But recalling that hadn’t reassured her, either.

  Using her shopping bag as an excuse to only half raise her hand, she’d returned his salute. He’d seemed immeasurably jubilant with her response which made her, in turn, think he was more of a fool than she’d given him credit for. But a dangerous fool, she reminded herself.

  ‘Hallo, dear Annie,’ he’d called. ‘I was about to give up for today.’

  If only she’d stayed with Frau Wilhelm, or watching the children for another few minutes, she’d thought, but then tried to rearrange her features to look as if she was somewhat pleased to see him.

  He’d marched over and wrestled her shopping bag from her. ‘I will help you.’ Everything he said sounded like an order. Then he’d cupped his clammy hand under her elbow and marched her towards the house. How did he think she managed to get about when he wasn’t there. ‘Mutti told me about your situation. I am sorry for you, Annie,’ he’d said, without sounding it. ‘A bride, a wife, a widow and a mother-to-be all in the space of what – two months?’

  ‘Yes,’ she’d said in a thin voice. ‘We live in bewildering times.’ She’d opened the door and he’d followed her into the kitchen, placing her bag on the small table.

  ‘You must find comfort in the Fuhrer’s perfect plan,’ he’d said. ‘There is no confusion where that is concerned.’

  He then plonked himself down in the nearest chair and watched her unpack her shopping, fill the kettle, get down the cups and make the coffee. ‘Again no cake?’ he’d said.

  ‘Sadly, no. I find I’m not very hungry these days.’

  He’d made no comment, but she could feel him appraising her from head to foot. ‘When is the baby expected?’ he’d asked. ‘If that’s not too intrusive a question?’

  ‘Middle of September,’ she’d replied.

  ‘And tell me, Annie, why were we not invited to share your big day with you and Herr Doctor’s son? Mutti was most upset not to witness you being married.’

  Steeling herself to face him, she’d held tight to the coffee cups and placed them on the table. ‘I am sorry that Tante Herte feels she missed out, but I did explain to her that Walther and I had every intention of celebrating with the family on his return. But…’ She’d looked down at her feet and sniffed a couple of times.

  Horst had picked up his cup and blown on his coffee. A curtain of steam hung between them for a moment. ‘But why the hurry before he was posted?’

  How dare he, she’d thought. He was an insensitive, callous brute. She’d put down her coffee cup and looked him straight in the eye, deciding to play him at his own game. Without blinking, she’d said, ‘Our main consideration was that we plight our troth. Are you implying otherwise, Horst?’ He’d broken their stare first and she’d felt a tiny twinge of victory.

  But he couldn’t leave
it at that. He couldn’t let her have that one win. ‘As I said on previous occasions.’ He’d leaned back on two chair legs, his chin in the air. ‘You must call on me if I can help in anyway.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She’d tried to remain civil. ‘I am lucky to have my parents-in-law, Herr Doctor and Frau Wilhelm. And my lovely brother.’

  Horst had let his chair slam to the floor. His voice had become softer but more threatening. ‘Fred?’ he’d asked with mock innocence. ‘But he will be away soon, too.’

  The scant sense of having outfoxed him that she’d wallowed in a moment earlier slipped away in an instant. Fear had pricked along the length of her spine; adrenaline causing the pit of her stomach to drop and her legs, under the table, to feel numb and wobbly. She hadn’t been able to decide if she might faint or be sick. ‘I don’t understand,’ she’d said.

  Horst had smiled, pleased to be back in what he thought was the superior position. ‘He has been playing around in that university for too long,’ he’d said. ‘So I paid him a visit there today and told him it was time he joined up.’ He’d waited for her reaction, but she had been dumbfounded. ‘Yes, Oma no longer needs him here and you have Herr Doctor and Frau Wilhelm. A healthy young man like Fred is needed elsewhere. He must enlist, or before my leave is over I will frogmarch him to the recruitment office myself.’

  Annie had placed her cup on the table with a rattle and wondered if she should beg Horst not to go through with his threat. Or perhaps try to reason with him. Remind him that German wasn’t Fred’s first language, plead that she needed him here, his students needed him at the university. But her tongue would not allow what was in her brain to be spoken.