The Women in His Life

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  Willy gasped, ‘Look what he did to Mr Mandelbaum’s store front—’

  ‘Hurry, Willy! Hurry!’ Theodora hissed, and catching Willy’s hand in hers she turned, dragging him with her, and together they ran in the other direction, away from the apartment building and Mandelbaum’s jewellery shop, and out into the Kurfurstendamm.

  As they hit this street they immediately saw that havoc was starting to break loose everywhere, and so they went on running as fast as they could, their feet pounding the pavement until they reached the lamp post where Willy had parked his motorbike earlier. They were thankful and relieved to see that it was perfectly secure and had not been touched, but they knew they had reached it just in time. The two of them clambered on, their breathing laboured as they settled themselves on the saddle.

  ‘Hold tight!’ Willy ordered, and she wrapped her arms around his waist as the bike leapt forward and headed down the Kurfurstendamm at breakneck speed.

  Vans and trucks were now pulling up all along this wide avenue lined with shops and cafes and apartment buildings. Stormtroopers, rowdies and thugs were spilling out, brandishing hatchets, guns, clubs and truncheons. Like fevered maniacs they were rushing in every direction, smashing the windows of Jewish-owned stores, throwing goods out into the street, destroying the fronts of cafes and hacking at the doors of apartment buildings. Combined with the ear-splitting noise of shattering glass were the sounds of splintering wood and the blood-curdling cries of triumph from the frenzied mob led by stormtroopers.

  Theodora was shaking. Holding onto Willy tighter than ever, she shouted in his ear, ‘Faster! Faster! Get us out of here!’

  He did not bother to respond, simply gunned the bike forward with a screeching of tyres, and within minutes they were leaving the Kurfurstendamm behind them. Willy was making for the Stülerstrasse, which flowed into the Tiergartenstrasse where the Westheim mansion stood. It was there that Theodora lived and worked as the nanny to young Maxim.

  They were on the Fasanenstrasse now.

  Just ahead of them was the lovely old Central Synagogue, and as they approached it they were horror-struck. The building was being completely demolished by thugs and stormtroopers, who were breaking all the windows and setting it alight with flaming torches.

  Willy accelerated his speed considerably, dangerous though this was, and shot ahead, racing through the melee and away from this scene of violent wholesale destruction. But not before they had seen the scrolls of the Torah and the ark of the covenant lying amongst the debris in the street. And alongside were torn prayer books and shawls, and all were being trampled underfoot by the wild mob who were shrieking with hysterical laughter, and shouting obscenities about Jews to each other.

  ‘I can’t believe they’re burning down the synagogue,’ Theodora wailed in Willy’s ear, and she began to sob and pressed her face into his back.

  Willy desperately wanted to stop in order to comfort her, but he did not dare, not until they were out of this area and in a safer part of Berlin. With a terrible relentless-ness he pushed the motorcycle harder, as hard as he could, and eventually he was cutting across the Kantstrasse and speeding down the Budapesterstrasse. This was a long and curving avenue which led directly into the Stülerstrasse. With enormous relief he saw that the latter was quiet, entirely deserted as he entered it; in fact, it might well have been on another planet, so peaceful was it. And so he slowed his speed at last, finally came to a stop. After braking, he parked by the side of the road in the shadow of some trees and jumped off the bike.

  Theodora was still weeping, now shaking her head from side to side, her hands pressed to her streaming eyes. ‘God forgive me! God forgive me for denying my heritage, for denying my religion, for denying myself and all that I am!’

  Willy took her to him, and she sobbed uncontrollably in his arms, cleaving to him. He stroked her back, trying to calm her.

  Eventually, he said with great gentleness, ‘God does forgive you. I know He does. You saved us, didn’t you? With your quick thinking and your cheek. You’ve got a good Jewish kop on your shoulders, Teddy. And chutzpah. A lot of chutzpah. That’s what saved us.’

  ‘I shouldn’t have denied we are Jews,’ she whimpered. ‘It was wrong, Willy.’

  ‘It saved us. And that’s all that counts.’

  She drew away from him slightly, looked up into his grave face, asked tearfully, ‘Why, Willy? Why? Why are they doing this? And why are they burning down the synagogue?’

  He was briefly silent, and then he said in a voice that was anguished, ‘The Nazis have turned prejudice into hatred, and tonight we are witnessing a Nazi rampage against us and our homes, our businesses and our places of worship. They are torching, vandalising and desecrating everything that belongs to Jews, because they hate us with a terrible, terrible vengeance.’

  ‘Oh Willy.’

  He held her close to him again so that she would not see the sudden tears misting his eyes.

  Theodora was trying to stem her sobs, heaving and catching her breath in little spasms, and after a short while she was quieter, in control. ‘Willy?’

  ‘Yes, Teddy?’

  ‘They want to murder us all,’ she whispered against his shoulder.

  He did not respond. He knew she was right. And he was afraid.

  NINE

  Theodora felt considerably safer once she was inside the Westheim mansion on the Tiergartenstrasse.

  She locked and bolted the door behind her, and then leaned against it, trying to compose herself. She was no longer wracked by sobs, the tears had dried on her face, but, nonetheless, she was still disturbed and upset. The violence she had just seen on the streets, the ferocity of the attack on the synagogue, were indelibly imprinted on her mind forever. And, like Willy, she was frightened.

  After taking several deep breaths and steadying herself, she walked quickly across the black-and-white marble foyer, the metallic click of her heels against the marble floor the only sound in the huge and silent house. Obviously everyone was sleeping soundly, unaware of the riots outside. The mobs had stayed away from this exclusive residential district, occupied mostly by wealthy Gentile families, and had apparently concentrated their attacks around the area of the Kurfurstendamm, at least as far as she knew.

  An antique porcelain lamp on a chest to one side of the Gobelin tapestry had been left burning for her, by Frau Westheim, upon her return from the dinner at the British Embassy, she had no doubt about that. It illuminated her way up the grand staircase.

  When she reached the landing at the top of the stairs, she turned on the lights and made her way along the main corridor. She stopped at Maxim’s door, stood listening, then opened it gently and peeped inside.

  The tiny night-light on the bedside table made a faint glow, and it comforted her to see that the child was sleeping so peacefully. Closing the door carefully, so as not to awaken him, she swung around, and, rather than going to her own room which was next to Maxim’s, she stepped over to his parents’ bedroom instead. Lightly, she rapped on the door.

  She waited several moments, and was about to knock again, when the door was opened by Sigmund dressed in his pyjamas and a dark silk robe.

  Taken by surprise that it was she, and not one of the servants, he stared at her, frowning. ‘Theodora! What is it? What’s wrong? You’re as white as chalk.’ He squinted at her worriedly in the dimly-lit corridor.

  He was about to say something else, when Theodora put her finger to her lips, shook her head, and glanced over at the child’s room. ‘Shhhh,’ she whispered, ‘we don’t want to awaken Maxim.’

  Sigmund nodded his understanding, opened the door wider, and ushered her into the bedroom.

  Ursula was out of bed and slipping on her peignoir, worry clouding her smoky-blue eyes.

  When she saw Theodora’s white face and the shock in her eyes, the girl’s distress instantly communicated itself to her. ‘Teddy, whatever is it? Why, you’ve been crying. What has upset you so?’

  Theodora st
ood in the centre of the extraordinarily beautiful bedroom with its green watered-silk walls and many exquisite objects and great works of art, and wondered where to begin, how to tell this refined and aristocratic couple about the hideous violence and destruction she had just witnessed out there in the centre of the city. And for a second she could not find the words.

  She stared at Ursula. Her mouth trembled.

  Ursula returned the girl’s unblinking gaze, her eyes puzzled, her expression one of concern. Theodora was her charge, whom she had taken into her home three years ago, after the death of Frau Rosa Stein, Teddy’s mother and widow of Doctor Johann Stein. Until his death in 1933, the doctor had been the Westheim family’s physician for many years, and devoted to them. When Teddy had come to live with them at the age of sixteen, Ursula had been fulfilling a death-bed promise to Teddy’s mother to look after her until she came of age, or got married. Ursula took this promise seriously, and although Teddy was Maxim’s nanny, the girl was treated with great kindness and consideration, and was almost like a member of the family. Her welfare was of importance to Ursula and Sigmund.

  Now Ursula said gently, ‘Teddy dear, please tell us what has happened to you.’

  Theodora nodded, and words began to tumble out of her, a little breathlessly and in a great rush. ‘Out there. In the streets. The Nazis have gone crazy. They’re doing terrible things. Demolishing Jewish property. Smashing store windows, cafe fronts. Battering their way into apartment buildings. And they’ve burned the Central Synagogue. Burned it to the ground. I saw them doing it with my own eyes!’

  ‘Oh dear God! Dear God!’ Ursula cried. Her face lost all of its colour. She turned ashen, and an internal shaking seized her. Reaching out, she got hold of the back of a chair to steady herself, and that sense of dread, which she had pressed back for weeks, rose up in her and lodged like a stone weight in her chest.

  Anxiously she looked at Sigmund. They stared at each other disbelievingly. They were appalled and aghast at what they had just heard, and considerably alarmed.

  Turning back to Teddy, Ursula said, ‘Thank God you weren’t hurt. You’re not, are you?’

  ‘No, I’m not, Frau Westheim.’

  ‘You weren’t out alone tonight, were you, Teddy?’ Sigmund interjected.

  ‘I was with Willy, Herr Westheim.’

  ‘Willy?’ he repeated, his gaze quizzical.

  ‘Professor Herzog’s son,’ Ursula cut in swiftly. ‘He’s studying at the university, and he’s been taking Teddy out on her days off for about a year.’

  ‘Yes, of course, now I remember.’ Sigmund focused his bright blue eyes on Teddy again. ‘How did you get home? How did you manage to get through the demonstrations unscathed?’

  ‘On Willy’s motorcycle. He drove like a maniac. But he had to. It was awful, frightening, especially on the Ku’damm and the Fasanenstrasse.’

  ‘Oh Teddy, Teddy,’ Ursula said, her voice low and strained, ‘I’ve warned you not to stay out late at night. These are terribly dangerous times we’re living in.’

  ‘I know. And I’m sorry, Frau Westheim. I know you worry about me. But Henrietta’s birthday party went on much longer than we expected. We kept trying to leave. Finally we got away around midnight. The havoc was just starting to break loose.’

  Ursula frowned, thinking that their unimpeded journey across the rioting city was something akin to miraculous, and she probed, ‘No one bothered you? Stopped you? Shot at you?’

  ‘No, not when we were riding the motorbike. But… well… there was a little incident as we left the apartment. Willy accidentally barrelled into a stormtrooper outside the Mandelbaums’ building, and he grabbed hold of Willy, started to question—’

  ‘Stormtrooper!’ Ursula’s eyes opened wider. She brought a hand up to her mouth. Civilian mobs were one thing; the involvement of stormtroopers meant something entirely different—and much more threatening.

  ‘Yes, a stormtrooper; Theodora said, and speaking swiftly and graphically, she recounted exactly what had transpired between herself and the Nazi when she had rushed out to confront him on the street. And she did not leave out one single detail.

  Ursula was aghast throughout this recital, and when Teddy had finished, she exclaimed, ‘What you did was terribly, terribly dangerous! The consequences for you and Willy could have been disastrous. Horrendous. The stormtrooper could have beaten you up, or killed you. What’s perhaps even worse to contemplate, he could have dragged you both to Gestapo Headquarters for questioning. People who have been made to take forced trips to the Prinz Albrechtstrasse haven’t always come out of there alive. And if they have, they’ve often been mindless wrecks because of the torture inflicted on them.’

  Teddy went cold, realising that everything Ursula Westheim said was true. She bit her lip, responded quietly, in a chagrined voice, ‘I just reacted… without thinking. I was certain my insolence and superior manner would convince him I was not Jewish. I was right about that, Frau Westheim, and he really did believe my father was in the SS, and that he was a friend of Himmler’s.’

  ‘Teddy did what she thought was the best thing, I’m absolutely sure of that, and certainly she used her wits,’ Sigmund said to Ursula. Then he glanced across at Theodora and shook his head. His kindly eyes were grave when he murmured, after a slight pause, ‘I don’t think you should tempt providence again. It might not work a second time.’

  ‘Yes, now I realise that,’ Teddy admitted. ‘Willy was scared when I was shouting at the stormtrooper. Scared for both of us, he told me later.’

  ‘And where is Willy?’ Sigmund asked. ‘Is he downstairs?’

  ‘No, he went home. His father’s away and he was worried about his sister Clara being alone in their flat.’

  ‘But it’s dangerous out on the streets; Sigmund responded with a show of concern. ‘You should have insisted that he stay here tonight.’

  Ursula said, ‘I’m certain Willy is all right, Sigi. He lives not far from here, just behind us, near the Landwehrkanal.’

  ‘Willy must be safely home by now,’ Teddy asserted, and explained, ‘It would only take him a few minutes on the motorbike, and everything was quiet in the neighbourhood when he dropped me off.’

  Sigmund went across to one of the windows, parted the silk draperies and anxiously looked down into the Tiergartenstrasse. He saw that the street below was indeed empty, and this reassured him that the boy had undoubtedly made it home easily and without running into trouble. Nevertheless, he swung around, and gesturing to the phone on Ursula’s writing desk, he said, ‘I think we will all feel much better, Teddy, if you ring Willy.’

  ‘Yes, Herr Westheim,’ Teddy replied and did as he asked, walking over to the small desk and dialling. The phone in the Herzogs’ apartment was picked up after only two rings, and Willy was on the line. ‘Yes?’ he said warily.

  ‘It’s Teddy here,’ she answered. ‘Herr Westheim asked me to ring you up, Willy, to check that you’d arrived home all right.’ He told her that he had done so without any sort of incident and without seeing one single person, then they said goodbye.

  Teddy replaced the receiver, turned to Sigmund. ‘He’s fine, he said he got home in a few minutes. The streets around here are quiet, Herr Westheim.’

  Sigmund nodded. His immense relief showed on his face.

  ‘Stormtroopers,’ Ursula said and looked at Sigmund, then addressed Teddy. ‘So apparently the Government is no longer simply turning a blind eye to these anti-semitic demonstrations. Now, seemingly, it is actively involved in them.’

  ‘That’s the way it looks! Teddy responded. ‘I saw a lot of stormtroopers on our way home. They were leading the mobs—’ Theodora broke off as a wave of nausea unexpectedly swept over her and she brought her hand up to her eyes. She swayed slightly on her feet, and wondered if she was going to faint.

  Ursula ran to her immediately, put an arm around her to give her support. ‘Come, Mein Kind,’ she murmured, ‘come, my child, take off your things and let’s
sit down until you feel better.’ She helped Teddy remove her coat and tarn o’shanter, mothering her as she would Maxim. Taking hold of her hand, Ursula led her over to the fireplace where a few embers still glowed in the grate. Glancing over her shoulder at Sigmund, she said, ‘I think a glass of cognac would help Teddy. Her hands are icy.’

  ‘Of course. I’ll get it right away.’

  Sigmund strode into the adjoining room. This was his upstairs study where he sometimes worked, and where there was a small but well-stocked liquor cabinet.

  Meanwhile, Ursula and Teddy seated themselves on the chaise and Ursula continued to hold the girl’s hands, rubbing them between her own, trying to warm them.

  Theodora looked at her suddenly, and exclaimed, ‘They were so vicious when they smashed the synagogue, set fire to it. I couldn’t believe such a dreadful thing was happening.’ This scene stood out with such agonising clarity in her mind that she began to weep, and the tears rolled down her cheeks unchecked.

  Ursula brought her hand up to Teddy’s face, and gently wiped the tears away with her fingertips, and endeavoured to comfort her.

  Sigmund was back within seconds, carrying a silver tray upon which there were three liqueur glasses of brandy. ‘I think we all need a drop of this,’ he said, coming over to the chaise, offering the tray to his wife and Teddy.

  Theodora took a big swallow of the brandy and she felt the warmth of it in her throat at once. She took another swallow, and put the glass on a nearby table, looked from Ursula to Sigmund. ‘Thank you,’ she said softly, her expression one of deep gratitude. ‘Thank you for being so kind to me always.’

  Sigmund had tossed back his small glass of cognac in one quick gulp, and now he said, ‘I must go and make several phone calls… to Hedy, to make certain she and my mother are all right. I’m absolutely positive they are, out there in the Grunewald. Sigrid, of course, is in Hamburg with Thomas on business, so we don’t have to be concerned about them. And then I must reach the night guard at the bank, check out the situation in the Gendarmenmarkt.’