There was more giggling from next door and the faint sound of a line of coke being cut on a clear surface.
Then she heard a different voice – Hedda’s voice – say, ‘Warum wurden die Verräter im Auswärtigen Amt nicht verhaftet?’
Violet’s eyes shot wide open, every nerve-ending in her body jangling. What Hedda was asking was why certain criminals at the Foreign Office were not being immediately arrested for treason.
There came the sound of one of the women snorting coke, and then the woman who was in the know said, ‘Der Führer will wissen, ob irgendwelche Genërale in der Verschwörung verwickelt sind. Es soll keine Verhaftungen geben, bis das volle Ausmaß der Verschwörung bekannt ist.’
Perspiration beaded Violet’s forehead. Because the Führer wanted to know if members of the army were also in the plot, there were to be no arrests until the full extent of the plot was known. What the woman hadn’t said, but what was obvious, was that the men in the Foreign Office were being used as small fish to catch much bigger fish.
Hedda’s next question was to ask if all the plotters would then be beheaded.
‘Ja. Natürlich,’ was the answer.
Feeling as if iced water had been poured down her spine, Violet rose unsteadily to her feet. Somehow she had to leave the room without the women being aware they had been overheard – and she had leave Carinhall immediately and speak to Dieter.
Twenty minutes later she was at the wheel of her little BMZ Roadster, speeding south in the darkness through low-lying, thickly wooded countryside, her brain teeming with questions.
Would Dieter know who the plotters in the Foreign Office were? If he didn’t, how could he warn them? Was Dieter perhaps one of the plotters himself? If he was, then not only was he in grave danger, but so was Olivia.
An hour later, thinking of first one plan of action that Dieter and Olivia might have to take and then another, she entered the northern outskirts of Berlin, heading for the Tiergarten and Bellevuestrasse.
It was ten-thirty when she drew up outside the house. Though the curtains were drawn, chinks of light indicated that at least one of the downstairs rooms was occupied, and the hall light was on. There were no other cars in the street: no Gestapo black Mercedes sedans; no sign of any surveillance.
Her fur coat had a hood and she pulled it up over her distinctive hair before stepping out of the car. Then, praying that Dieter would be home, she ran up to the colonnaded front door and rang the bell.
It was two or three minutes before the door was opened and, when it was, it was opened by Dieter himself.
He stared at her in complete stupefaction.
She didn’t wait for him to recover his power of speech and, as he was making no move to invite her in, she pushed past him.
‘Do you have staff within earshot?’ she demanded as the door closed behind her.
‘No. What’s this about, Violet? Are you in trouble?’
‘I’m not. Colleagues of yours at the Foreign Office are – and it’s quite possible you are as well.’
He sucked in his breath, his nostrils whitening.
It was a reaction that told her just as clearly as words that he was one of the men of whom Hedda’s friend had been speaking.
‘Let’s talk in the library,’ he said. ‘There’s no telephone to worry about in there.’
Both of them had momentarily forgotten about Olivia, and when she opened the drawing-room door and stepped into the hall they spun to face her, as if caught in a romantic assignation.
Olivia was just as stunned at seeing Violet in her home as Dieter had been when he opened the door to her, but she recovered her power of speech far more speedily.
‘You bitch!’ Sobs rose in her throat. ‘How dare you desecrate my home by coming into it? Dieter doesn’t want to speak to you! He never wants to see you or speak to you again, and neither do I!’
Dieter swung round, gripping her tightly by the arm. ‘This isn’t what you think, Olivia. Violet is here with information.’
‘Information?’ Olivia stared disbelievingly from Dieter to Violet and back again. ‘What kind of information? The only thing Violet is carrying with her is the scent of Hitler’s henchmen!’
‘My scent is Mitsouko,’ Violet snapped. ‘And I’m not here for the good of my health, Olivia. I’m here for the good of yours!’
Aware that a sister-versus-sister fight of mega-proportions was about to break out, Dieter said curtly, ‘Let’s go to the library. And not another word until we get there.’
Still holding Olivia so firmly by the arm that she was bruised for days, he marched her, with Violet hard on their heels, across the marble-floored hall and into a book-lined room furnished with a sofa, two matching wing armchairs and a large desk.
‘Now,’ he said when the door was firmly closed behind them. ‘What the devil is all this about, Violet?’
Still in her fur coat, and without sitting down, Violet said swiftly, ‘The Gestapo know there are traitors in the Foreign Office. They have names – but in the conversation I overheard the names weren’t given. The reason for no arrests as yet is that Hitler wants to know who else is in the conspiracy: he especially wants to know if any army generals are also plotting against him.’
‘Christus!’ Dieter thought of the army generals in the conspiracy: General Halder, General Beck, General von Witzleben, who was commander of the Berlin Garrison, General von Brockdorff, who was commander of the Potsdam Garrison. He sought strength from the fact that so far none of their names were known to Hitler. Somehow every army member in the plot had to be warned, as had his two superiors in the Foreign Office.
‘I don’t understand.’ As if her legs would no longer support her, Olivia sank onto the sofa and looked bewilderedly towards Dieter. ‘Why are you letting her know there is a conspiracy? Don’t you see she’s just fishing for information? Don’t give her any names. If you give her names, the Gestapo will know them within an hour of her leaving here.’
‘I’m not here to be told names,’ Violet said curtly. ‘I’m here so that Dieter can warn whoever in the army needs to be warned, and so that he and the others in the conspiracy at the Foreign Office can get out of the country before they are arrested.’
Olivia, who was always slow to see where a conversation was leading, gave a cry of alarm.
Dieter said grimly, ‘I’m not the only one who is going to have to leave the country. Olivia is going to have to leave with me. Your father thinks her British passport will protect her, but it won’t. If I’m arrested on a charge of treason, she will be treated as being guilty by association.’
Aware it was going to be a long night of plan-making, Violet shrugged herself out of her fur and sat down in one of the wing armchairs. ‘You are already under surveillance, Dieter. The chances of both of you successfully leaving the country together are as close to nil as it’s possible to get.’
‘But if, as you say, I’m already under surveillance, won’t Olivia leaving for England alert the Gestapo that I’m about to follow her?’
‘Not if she doesn’t leave for England. If she leaves only with a weekend-case for a shopping trip to Paris, the same suspicions won’t be aroused.’
‘And then would I catch a train to Calais and cross the Channel from there?’ Olivia asked, still not understanding quite how Violet had suddenly become someone to trust again.
It was a question so obvious that Violet didn’t even bother answering it.
Another thought struck Olivia and she said suddenly, ‘Dieter and I can’t leave without taking Judith with us, and we are still waiting for the final piece of documentation that will allow her to travel and enter Britain.’
‘Judith is here? With you?’
Dieter nodded. ‘And Olivia is right, Violet. Leaving without her would be passing a death-sentence on her.’
‘Where is she now?’
‘In bed,’ Olivia said. ‘Have I to go and get her?’
‘Considering the added danger she’s now in, I thi
nk that would be a very good idea.’
When Olivia had left the room, Dieter said bluntly, ‘This is exile for me, isn’t it?’
‘For now. Where will you go? London? Yorkshire?’
He buried his head in his hands. He had enjoyed his time at the German Embassy in London, but that had been when it had simply been a foreign posting. He had never wanted to live permanently in England – and he didn’t want to live permanently in England now: not in London, not in Yorkshire, not anywhere. He was German. And Germany was his home.
He dropped his hands, saying bleakly, ‘Germany will soon be at war with England. You know that. I know that. If I’m living in England when war is declared I will be interned – possibly for years. And if the end of the war is in Germany’s favour, I’ll be shot by my own countrymen.’
Violet closed her eyes for a moment, thinking. Then she said, ‘There is a possible solution.’
‘What solution? I’m damned if I can see one.’
‘When it comes to war, I doubt if the Republic of Ireland will pitch in with Britain – and neither is it likely to pitch in with Germany. My guess is that southern Ireland will remain neutral. It’s a beautiful country, Dieter. Parts of it are reminiscent of the Yorkshire Dales. Olivia would love it there.’
‘Ireland?’ With every second, Dieter’s respect for Violet’s unexpected clarity of thought was deepening. Ireland would be near enough for Olivia not to feel totally cut off from Gorton. If he bought a small estate – and he could surely get enough of his money out via Switzerland to enable him to do that – he could become a gentleman farmer. They could enjoy a country life of horses and dogs, fishing and walking; and eventually, when Hitler was a thing of the past, they could return to Germany.
The library door opened and Olivia entered, with Judith a step or two behind her.
With vast relief Violet saw that Judith was showing no signs of panic or distress. She was perfectly composed, her face full of character, her eyes full of intelligence.
She was also, and this was the important thing as far as Violet was concerned, petite and fine-boned.
Olivia said, ‘I’ve put Judith in the picture. She knows what has happened and what is under discussion.’
Violet rose to her feet. ‘Violet Fenton,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘Sprechen Sie Englisch?’
‘I speak it perfectly.’
‘Good!’ Violet flashed her a vivid smile. ‘That’s two obstacles out of the way.’
Once again she seated herself in the wing chair. Olivia and Judith sat down side by side on the sofa. Dieter remained standing.
‘What are you thinking, Violet?’ he asked, wondering what the first obstacle had been.
‘I’m thinking that the minute you have warned everyone who has to be warned, you are going to have to leave the country fast – and that, as Judith can’t possibly be left behind, neither can she wait even a few days more for the return of a passport that will enable her to leave Germany and enter Britain. She’s going to have to leave immediately, with Olivia – and on my passport.’
‘But you don’t look anything alike!’
‘We do in the things that matter. We are the same height, the same build. We are the same age, or near enough. We both have fine-boned faces. My eyes are amber. Judith’s are hazel. And she speaks flawless English.’
‘And hair colour?’ Dieter looked from Violet to Judith and back again. ‘I know Judith’s hair can be dyed, but isn’t it difficult to dye from a dark colour to a lighter colour? And your hair is the most extraordinary colour, Violet.’
Violet shrugged. ‘I’m an actress. I have wigs for every occasion. I can be back here in less than an hour with a Titian wig from home that will utterly transform Judith.’
‘But the risks!’ Olivia grasped hold of Judith’s hand tightly. ‘If anything should go wrong . . .’ She couldn’t finish the sentence, because if anything were to go wrong it would be Sachsenhausen concentration camp for Judith – and maybe even for herself.
Dieter said gravely, ‘The risks of not following Violet’s suggestion are greater than those of following them, Olivia. Unless Judith has documentation to leave the country and enter Britain by the time I leave Germany, she will be arrested when the Gestapo arrive at the house searching for me. When it is discovered how short a time it is since she left Vienna, and how I immediately gave her employment here as a maid, it will be assumed that she, too, is somehow part of the conspiracy, or that at the very least she knows about it. And so she will be taken to Gestapo headquarters for questioning.’
He didn’t have to spell out what that kind of questioning would entail.
His eyes held Judith’s. ‘The decision is yours, Judith. It’s one you have to make for yourself.’
‘I prefer the first risk.’ Her voice was steady. She looked towards Violet. ‘But it will leave you without a passport, Violet. When you need to leave the country, how will you do so?’
‘Don’t worry about me. The US Embassy owes me a very great favour. When it is time for me to leave, I’ll have an American passport.’
‘Then that’s it!’ Dieter looked down at his watch. It was just after midnight. Thanks to Violet, in less than an hour all the major decisions that had to be made had been taken. ‘You and Judith will leave by train for Paris tomorrow,’ he said to Olivia. ‘Judith, give your identity card to Violet. You mustn’t have it on you. You are Violet Fenton from now on, not Judith Zimmermann. Olivia, the minute you are out of the country, telephone me saying you are having a wonderful shopping trip. Say nothing else. Then, knowing you are safe, when I have done all that needs to be done in Berlin, I will join you.’
‘What about our things?’ The magnitude of what such a flight entailed was almost more than Olivia could comprehend. ‘What will happen to all our clothes? To my jewellery? What will happen to the house and all our furniture?’
‘I think it’s safe to say that the house and furniture will be appropriated, as Judith’s family home and furniture were appropriated. Clothes don’t matter, Liebchen. Jewellery . . .’ He paused, looking towards Violet. ‘I think that even on a shopping trip to Paris, Countess von Starhemberg would be expected to have a jewellery-case with her, don’t you, Violet? And as Judith will be travelling as Violet Fenton, the famous movie actress, then surely she would also have a jewellery-case with her?’
Violet nodded, knowing better than anyone that extravagance of all kinds was taken as normal behaviour where movie stars were concerned. ‘It’s also important that Judith is wearing a lavish fur – so that will be two fur coats out of your wardrobe, Olivia. Not just one.’
‘Good.’ Olivia’s sincerity was deep. ‘That means I’ll get to keep both my sable and my mink.’
Despite the gravity of the situation, amusement twitched at the corners of Judith’s mouth. ‘I’ve dreamed of stepping on English soil for months and months, but I never dreamed I’d be doing so as a movie star, wearing a fur and carrying a jewellery-case!’
Violet laughed, aware that someone who could keep a sense of humour at such a time was someone she could become very good friends with. ‘You’re going to look wonderful. When I return with the wig, I’ll come with my make-up box as well. By the time I have made you up, not even my father would be able to tell the difference between us.’
Olivia’s thoughts were now focused entirely on Dieter. ‘When you leave, darling, will you leave as Judith and I are leaving? Will you take the train to Paris, and then to Calais?’
He shook his head. ‘No. Leaving Berlin to join you in Paris would set all sorts of alarm bells ringing. I’ll seek an excuse to travel to Munich, and then I’ll shake off whatever surveillance I am under, cross into Switzerland and from there into France. My journey to England will take a little longer than yours, Liebchen, but we will be together again before too long.’
Olivia stifled the sobs of anxiety that were rising in her throat. Dieter was making his escape sound easy and danger-free, but she knew it was going to
be neither. She also knew that, without Violet, there would have been no chance of escape for him; that within weeks, perhaps within days, he would have been arrested by the Gestapo and, along with everyone else known to be in the conspiracy plot, executed.
When Violet rose to leave, Olivia hugged her tightly, tears of gratitude and love on her cheeks. ‘Promise me that as soon as you have a passport you’ll leave Berlin,’ she said fiercely. ‘Promise me, Vi.’
Violet hugged her back. ‘I’ll be leaving just as soon as I’ve tidied up a loose end that needs tidying. There’s nothing I want more than to be at Gorton again, with you, Papa, Thea, Roz and Carrie.’
‘And Dieter and Judith.’
‘And Dieter and Judith,’ Violet said, wondering just when Dieter would tell her about the future he was planning for them both in southern Ireland.
Olivia gave a shaky smile. ‘That’s good. That makes me feel much better. Now I can set about doing what has to be done.’
‘Which is?’
‘Working out how many of my favourite dresses can be squeezed into two weekend cases.’
Chapter Forty-One
JANUARY 1939
Judith was walking across Grosvenor Square en route to Claridge’s, where she was meeting her mother for lunch. Left to her own devices, she would have preferred to be heading towards the Corner House at Marble Arch, which was Thea’s favourite eatery when meeting up with her socialist friends. Zephiniah, though, would not have been seen dead in a Lyons Corner House, and Judith, though she didn’t share the same scruples, would never have asked it of her.
At the thought of Zephiniah, love, amusement and exasperation flooded through her. Her mother had not been at all the kind of person she had imagined her to be. For one thing, she wasn’t happily married to Gilbert. She was newly divorced from him and intent on marrying an Argentinian, Roberto Di Stéfano.
‘I’ve been in love with Roberto for years,’ she had said with startling frankness when Judith had asked about him. ‘From well before I met and married Gilbert – though we weren’t still having an affair when I met Gilbert. Our affair began again later, when we met by accident in the casino at Aix-les-Bains.’
A Season of Secrets Page 48
