A Fight in Silence

by Melanie Metzenthin

  Lachner sniffed in disdain. ‘Nobel Peace Prize? Don’t make me laugh. A mere sugar lump for a well-behaved donkey who wants to persuade us that he’s fighting for the German people, while the truth is he’s prostrating himself before the occupying powers and letting them lead him by the nose, when what he should be doing is banging the table like a real statesman.’

  ‘August, our opinions are so far apart, and not only on this, that there is no organisation in which we could possibly stand side by side, so leave it now, please.’

  Lachner glanced at his pair of supporters and they both nodded almost imperceptibly. ‘As you wish,’ he said to Richard. ‘I fear you’re failing to read the sign of the times. Social Democracy has reached the end of the road and will be swept away by the same storm that’ll set the German flagship back on course and help our people regain their old greatness.’ He stood up and his two friends immediately did the same, then he turned to Paula again.

  ‘Fräulein Engelhardt, may I wish you a pleasant day, and perhaps you’ll think about the company you keep. National Socialism also offers opportunities for development to intelligent young women such as yourself.’

  ‘Good evening, Herr Lachner.’

  Once the three men had gone, Richard screwed up the pamphlet they’d left on the table.

  ‘Would he have annoyed you so much if he shared your opinion on the mentally ill?’ asked Paula. ‘I found some of his observations perfectly reasonable. The Treaty of Versailles and the Rhineland occupation were unjust – our people have had to let too much go.’

  Richard nodded slowly. ‘That’s true. But realistically, what do we have apart from the negotiating table? We’ve lost the war, we have no power and have nothing more than diplomacy to keep matters in balance. And personally, I think Stresemann’s doing a good job.’

  ‘You seem to know a lot about politics.’

  ‘Only what’s in the papers.’

  ‘So what is it that you dislike most about these new kind of socialists?’

  ‘National Socialists,’ Richard corrected her. ‘They reject democracy. Everything they do is organised in accordance with the authoritarian leader principle, and this requires unconditional obedience to that leader. There are strange things going on. Apparently, the latest absurdity is that they greet each other by lifting their right arm and bawling, ‘Heil Hitler!’ – that’s their leader’s name.’

  Paula burst out laughing. ‘You’re joking!’

  ‘No, I’m absolutely serious.’

  ‘That’s one of the silliest things I’ve ever heard. I don’t believe we need to waste any more time in thinking about these nutcases. No one will take them seriously.’

  She expected Richard to nod in agreement, but he seemed remarkably worried and withdrawn, as if his thoughts had taken him far away.

  ‘Tell me something, Paula,’ he said at last. ‘What would you have thought of Lachner if you’d met him for the first time today and not known his other views, especially as you agreed with some of his theories? Isn’t it rather beguiling to hope there are simple solutions to our international and economic difficulties?’

  ‘What’s the matter, Richard? Are you completely against any such ideas?’

  ‘No,’ he admitted, ‘but there are too many points where this ideology clashes with my own world view, even if I do share a few of Lachner’s opinions.’

  Paula gazed across Alster Lake. The setting sun bathed the water and the passing pleasure boats in a red-gold light. The afternoon her father had granted her was over, but everything within her fought against letting it end too soon. Richard seemed to read her thoughts.

  ‘When does your father expect you back?’

  ‘Does that matter?’

  ‘It does to me. I don’t want him to think badly of me.’

  Paula let out a sigh. ‘Then it’s time for us to be leaving.’

  Richard gestured to the waiter for the bill.

  Slowly, they made their way back to his car, taking time to enjoy the sun going down and the glimmer of the gas lamps bordering the Alster as they lit up one by one.

  ‘That new picture house is opening on Hoheluftchaussee next week,’ said Richard when they reached the car. ‘The Capitol. They say it has twelve hundred seats. Would you please . . .?’ He hesitated then said in a low voice, ‘Would you let me take you there, Paula?’

  This new intimacy made her heart race. ‘I most definitely would!’

  ‘And what would your father say?’ There was that smile again, but only in his eyes, while the set of his mouth appeared quite serious.

  ‘As long as they’ve chosen something intellectually demanding for the premiere, he’d approve.’

  ‘In that case, he’ll welcome their choice of Faust with Emil Jannings as Mephisto.’

  For a moment he stood very close to her, so close that Paula wondered whether he was expecting something more from her, but then he opened the passenger door to allow her to take her seat.

  Although it was only seven thirty when Richard dropped her off at her front door and bid her a polite farewell, her father was already showing his impatience.

  ‘That was a very long afternoon,’ came his greeting. ‘I hope you enjoyed it.’

  Paula took no notice of the reproach in his voice and replied with deliberately exaggerated courtesy. ‘Have you already eaten, Papa?’

  ‘No, I’ve been waiting for you. Frau Koch has finished for the day but left everything ready.’

  ‘That was very thoughtful of her.’

  ‘That’s her job, my child.’

  ‘Of course, Papa. Shall we go through to the dining room?’

  He accompanied his daughter in silence, and her stomach tensed. Her father never admonished her directly, and certainly never said any harsh words to her. Nevertheless, he had his own special way of expressing displeasure, and it had the power to sour a beautiful memory. She wondered whether this was because she had come home after seven, or had something to do with Richard himself, or was simply that Richard was a man. Her father was never like this when she went out with Leonie, and would even give her extra money for a taxi in case they were late.

  She decided to confront the matter head on, so as soon as they’d taken their seats at the table, she said, ‘Richard’s invited me to go to the Capitol with him next week for the opening night.’

  ‘I assume you’ve politely turned him down?’

  ‘No, I was delighted to accept.’

  Her father noisily cleared his throat. ‘And you think he’s the right sort of company for you to keep?’

  ‘He’s the best student in his semester, he’s polite, kind, intelligent and his father runs a successful business that brings in more money than many general practitioners earn. What’s so wrong with company like that, Papa?’

  ‘I’m not yet sure what to think,’ her father retorted. ‘I’ve asked Frau Koch to find out about his family.’

  ‘Why don’t you send in a detective instead, Papa? Who knows – maybe the family aren’t carpenters at all and the workshop is a façade for counterfeiters?’

  ‘Paula, you’re being childish.’

  ‘Yes, Papa,’ she said with sigh, thinking privately that she wouldn’t be the only daughter having this sort of conversation with their father, but she was wary of voicing such thoughts. At least he hadn’t been able to raise any real objections against Richard, which confirmed her suspicion that this was less about Richard’s background and more about the fact that he was worried Richard would come between them.

  Chapter 5

  Richard loved his family and the chaos they generally created, but on this particular evening he was relieved he could avoid being quizzed by his sister, Margit, in the main living room, by retreating to the converted attic room he’d lived in since becoming a student. Margit was even nosier than his mother and had waylaid him at the front door. Fortunately, Margit’s youngest, Lottchen, the pet name for eighteen-month-old Charlotte, pushed in between them, howling over some
trifle, distracting Margit sufficiently for the moment that he was able to quickly sneak past.

  As he hurried up the narrow wooden stairs he could still hear the children’s voices clamouring for his sister and couldn’t help but smile. Since their hasty wartime wedding ten years ago, Margit and Holger Mathieson had had five children: four boys and then Lottchen. Richard hoped that the blessing of babies had run its course now that Margit had her longed-for daughter at last. Without the backing of the family business, Holger and Margit would never have been able to afford such a large family.

  Soon after their marriage Holger had returned to the Front, where he had been so badly wounded that his right lower leg had had to be amputated, which restricted the sort of work he could do in the carpentry workshop. It was because of this that Richard’s father had found him jobs that did not require him to stand on his feet for too long, including taking on the bookkeeping. This had turned out to be a smart move, as Holger had quickly demonstrated a good ability with figures and a shrewd business acumen. Even six years earlier he had warned against keeping too much liquidity in the accounts because of creeping inflation, and thanks to this advice and a number of sound investments, including the purchase of a large area of land used for forestry outside the city, the carpentry business had come through the bleak times relatively unscathed.

  This success had helped Holger come to terms with his disability, because without it, he would never have turned to bookkeeping and they would certainly have fallen victim to the crippling inflation and been forced to declare insolvency, along with so many other businesses. Richard and his father were of one mind on this – Holger was a godsend for the family, not only for the successful running of the business but also for his positive outlook on life: he always made the best of every stroke of fate, even when it was hard, and never more so than after the death of Richard’s brother, Georg.

  All this was racing through Richard’s mind as he stepped into his attic room and set about lighting the stove, as the nights were already turning cold. As always, he paused to look at the framed photograph on the wall near the stove. He remembered all too well the day it was taken. Twelve years ago: September 1914. He’d been thirteen, while Georg had just turned nineteen and received his marching orders. The photo showed the whole family: from the left, his father, then Georg in uniform – his face proud and happy because he had no inkling how little honour there truly lay in dying for the fatherland – then came Richard, with seventeen-year-old Margit to his right, and finally, on the end, Mother.

  Richard sighed deeply, closed the lid of the stove and sat down at his desk to study, but he couldn’t concentrate on his books.

  If his brother hadn’t died, he probably wouldn’t have studied medicine. Instead, on completing his carpentry apprenticeship straight after school, as his father had wanted, he would probably have studied history of art, as he’d always hoped. But Georg’s agonising death had made Richard determined to play a part in preventing anything like this from happening again in the future. He was astonished that his father had made no protest when he’d announced that, instead of qualifying as a master craftsman and later taking over the business, he wanted to study medicine.

  ‘I know you’ll do the right thing,’ his father had said, giving his son a warm pat on the shoulder. ‘We’ll find other ways of keeping the business in the family, and I’ll be very proud of you. Show those smug doctors’ sons the kind of material the Hellmers are made of!’

  ‘Solid mahogany,’ came Richard’s swift response, making his father shout with laughter.

  He’d known from the very first day that he’d made the right decision. Medicine meant something to him, as did the contact with people, so it was easy to ignore his fellow students’ mockery and the silly remarks about his background. He kept quiet about his own carpentry training but lent a hand in his father’s workshop when the business needed him.

  After registering Dr Engelhardt’s reaction, he was glad he’d kept this secret, even though he couldn’t help being offended that he had to hide his skill at this respectable trade, as if it were some kind of flaw in his character. He wanted to be judged on all of his achievements, not just his academic background.

  Fortunately, Paula seemed quite different. She saw him as he was, shared his opinions, but was also able to put forward her own views, and do so eloquently. He’d never met a woman he could talk with so openly, a woman with whom he had so many interests in common. On top of that she was exceptionally pretty, with her dark blonde hair and emerald eyes. He’d met her only a week ago, but already he knew this was a woman worth courting and fighting for – that had been clear to him right from their first visit to the café together, when he’d seen her eyes light up and reflect his own passion as he talked of art and psychiatry. From that very first evening he’d had to admit to himself that he’d fallen head over heels like a schoolboy. Her image had stayed in his mind and their outing today had further strengthened his feelings. No matter how much Paula’s father looked down on him, he would show Dr Engelhardt that he was worthy of his daughter in all respects, of that he was absolutely determined. And anyway, the Hellmers were fashioned from solid mahogany and that was more noble, more enduring and harder than any German oak.

  Chapter 6

  For Paula the next few days passed in a mixture of euphoria and guilt. Every thought of Richard filled her with a joyful anticipation and sense of excitement that stole her appetite and left her in a daze, and yet at the same time she saw her father’s uncertainty growing, not so much because of Richard but because of his fear of change. Since the death of his wife, his beloved daughter had become his entire life and now here she was, working towards her professional independence as well as making room in her heart for another man. Paula had to acknowledge that her feelings for Richard were making her father jealous. This became increasingly obvious when his scepticism persisted in spite of the fact that Frau Koch’s investigations had revealed only the best about the Hellmer family.

  ‘This is a hard-working, well-respected family of craftsmen,’ she related on the evening prior to the film premiere Paula was so excited about. ‘They have a lot of customers, and if the young Herr Hellmer can take time away from his studies on a Saturday, he works alongside them so they can fulfil all the orders.’

  Dr Engelhardt’s eyebrows raised more than a little. ‘That doesn’t say much about the quality of the work. Everyone should stick with what they’re trained for. An aspiring doctor cannot do the work of a carpenter’s lad – that can’t possibly produce a decent result.’

  ‘Well now,’ said Frau Koch, leaning forward in an almost conspiratorial pose, ‘so far as I can gather, his father insisted that he complete his apprenticeship before starting at the university, so he’s actually fully qualified.’ She lowered her gaze before continuing, ‘And what an advantage that would be! He’d be able to do a few useful jobs around the house later, in his own home, wouldn’t he?’

  Paula stifled a smile. Frau Koch was clearly on her side and continually sang Richard’s praises. Dr Engelhardt only rolled his eyes, as he’d long seen through his housekeeper’s remarks.

  ‘I suppose you’re telling me I should be grateful that in Richard Hellmer I’m getting the perfect son-in-law?’

  ‘Father, it’s really not like that yet,’ Paula said, hastily intervening. ‘I’m only going to the cinema with him!’

  ‘That’s how it always begins. With your mother and me, it was the opera.’ He heaved a sigh. ‘Are you at least seeing something sensible?’

  ‘But I’ve already told you – it’s Faust with Emil Jannings as Mephisto. You can’t get much more sensible than that.’

  Her father murmured something and then, looking rather bored, reached for his newspaper. ‘You should know.’

  Paula hesitated, wondering if she should leave it at that, but then decided not to let him get away with it so easily.

  ‘Papa, which opera did you visit with Mama when you realised how you fel
t about her?’

  A smile lit up his face. ‘I already knew when I bought the tickets for our box. It was the premiere of Gernot, by Eugen d’Albert, one of those typical German stories of tragedy, heroism and glory, but your mother loved it.’ His expression softened at the memory. ‘Faust with Emil Jannings seems far more fitting and highbrow.’ Then he turned back to his paper, while Frau Koch gave Paula a victorious little thumbs-up sign from behind his back.

  The following evening, Richard collected Paula in the car again. Half of Hamburg seemed to be out on the town, and Richard had to hunt around for somewhere to park. In some ways the tree frog looked rather forlorn amid the superior black saloon cars that flaunted the wealth of their owners, but in others it seemed to Paula a perfectly suitable vehicle for them both: the tree frog symbolised her and Richard’s fight for their place in society, based on merit rather than gender or background. And as a motor car, it was just as good as the fancy models delivering men in cashmere coats and women in mink stoles.

  The newly opened Capitol on Hoheluftchaussee was one of the most extraordinary buildings Paula had ever seen. The Expressionist façade was decorated in terracotta, while inside it was as high and wide as a cathedral. The foyer, too, clearly showed that no expense had been spared by its creators. Silesian marble, artistic wood panelling in walnut and extravagant gold decoration invited closer examination. Even more impressive than the foyer was the auditorium itself, with over twelve hundred seats. Red was the dominant colour: a red curtain concealed the huge screen, the orchestra pit and the stage; all the seats were upholstered in red with gleaming gold frames, while every box was decked out in ebony and embellished with magnificent panelling.

  ‘Impressive, eh?’