She could see him adjusting his indignant outburst. He did have feelings for his grandparents and their home in Forres. This time his tone was less sullen. ‘So when are you going?’
‘Late September, I think.’
‘I’ll have three months left at school. That means Christmas with Karl and Renate.’
‘Yes, of course. That should be fun.’ She smiled at him, glad he had decided to behave like an adult after all. ‘You are very much my young man now. You remember your father left a sum of money which you will receive on your twenty-first birthday?’
Otto looked thoughtful. ‘I may need it then. Once communism is defeated, I can start to study medicine.’
Hilda smiled. His attitude might have irked her earlier, but he was a good boy at heart and she knew he would like to follow his father’s profession in due course. ‘Otto, you make me proud. Come here.’ She lifted her book and placed it on the fireside table. She opened her arms to him.
They hugged for a moment, and his show of affection warmed her. Otto smiled at her, perhaps realizing his plans had met with her approval. His arms tightened around her and he whispered quietly, ‘Give my love to Grandmother and Grandfather. I miss them.’
She patted his back. ‘Of course I will, Otto. Of course I will.’ Nevertheless, a tear was visible in her eye and a lump formed in Otto’s throat.
Chapter 3
The Gestapo Demands
The doorbell rang one Saturday afternoon. Hilda was ironing one of Otto’s brown shirts, making sure his arm creases presented correctly and firmly in the right place. She was delighted to find that the visitor was Karl. He kissed her cheek as he entered, throwing his hat on a hall chair immediately afterwards.
‘Carry on, Hilda. Don’t let me stop you.’
‘I’m ready for a break,’ she said, skipping through to the kitchen to make coffee.
‘No second thoughts about us taking Otto?’ Karl called out to her.
‘No, none. Of course not,’ she said then wondered. ‘I thought it was settled. Renate is comfortable with the arrangement, isn’t she?’
Karl followed her into the kitchen and reached for cups and the sugar bowl from the cupboard.
‘We’d both have Otto to stay any time. That’s not my worry,’ he said placing the bowl and cups on the table.
‘Something else on your mind?’ She clutched the handle of the coffee percolator, a little apprehensively.
‘A couple of things have been bothering me. One is Otto’s lack of regular education because of his frequent Hitler Youth meetings. It runs on strict activity lines. There is no time for proper education. It’s certainly not like the Boy Scouts.’
‘No, they banned them two years ago. How Otto loved the Scouts.’
‘Yes, I know he did. However, I am even more concerned about what happens after the Hitler Youth. He told me he’ll be with the 7th Hamburg Motorized Unit.’
Hilda stirred a spoonful of sugar into Karl’s cup. ‘It’s almost certain that they are drafted into the army at that age,’ she said. ‘It’s pretty well unstoppable. Otto told me as much. He reckons he’ll only be with you for a short while.’ She tapped the side of the teaspoon against the lip of the cup.
‘Hilda, it’s not that he’s naive or gullible. He’s going with many other boys, and they are all in the same situation. But I’ll tell you one thing I am certain of.’
They sat opposite each other in the warm kitchen. Hilda slid the coffee cup across the table to her brother-in-law.
‘Thank you. Mmm,… that is good. Yes, there can be little doubt we are heading for war. The allegiances that are forming are another matter for concern. Hitler sees Britain as Aryan and is quite opposed to a communist nation taking over Europe. He assumes Britain will not oppose him. I hope that is the case too. However, it is a long way from certain. We cannot be sure.’
Hilda could not fault Karl’s conclusion. The future looked bleak. Once more, the nations sharpened their swords, she thought.
‘That is why I think you should consider staying in Scotland as long as you can, or at least until we see which way the wind is blowing. You follow me?’
She bit her lower lip. ‘And how long should I be away?’ she asked.
‘You could help run the family hotel for a while. I am sure your parents would appreciate that.’
The idea caught her off-balance, but it was a pleasing one, for the moment anyway. ‘How long do you think the authorities here will let me stay?’
‘Hilda, I think you’ve forgotten. You have an additional status, haven’t you? You remember what troubles it caused last time there was war when you did not have dual nationality. I think you could put it to good use now.’
A smile came over Hilda’s face. ‘Then a one-way ticket for the time being?’ ‘Exactly.’ Karl smiled, pleased with her decision.
Hilda booked passage on a ship sailing from Hamburg to Aberdeen on Friday 30th September 1938 and began to gather her luggage together. She would take as much of her own property as possible to Scotland, travelling with a full suitcase, a small black bag and her handbag, while sending two large trunks ahead. She sorted out what she would need in Scotland. Especially as the days were heading towards winter, she rationalised.
She made a seminal decision: she would place the house in Otto’s name when he turned twenty-one. That was not so many years away, and she was not sure, when or if, she would return.
One day she started a notebook of instructions for Otto, about cooking, laundry and shopping. First, she covered the book in greaseproof paper, then in leftover wallpaper from the lounge, which Willy had quite recently redecorated. On the front cover, she wrote in bold ink: OTTO’S BUCH Kochen; Bugelservice, Waschen und Einkaufen. Satisfied with her work, she opened her oboe case and began to play a piece by Mozart. During the allegro section, there was a knock at the door. She stopped playing immediately; perhaps it was Renate or a friend for Otto. She ran to the door.
When she opened it, the blood drained from her face and her heart began to flutter.
‘Oh. Herr Eicke. I was not expecting you.’
‘No, Frau Richter. I have been standing outside your front door for the past few minutes. You play Mozart particularly well.’
‘You know your music, Herr Eicke,’ she said, showing him an appreciative smile.
‘Only that it is Mozart. You will have to enlighten me as to which piece you were playing.’
‘It was The Hostias from Mozart’s Requiem in D minor K626. The oboe does not usually play it, of course. I was adapting from the choral part.’
‘Ah… I see.’ Herr Eicke entered the house uninvited. Hilda stood aside to let him in. He stepped over one of the suitcases with an exaggerated high step.
‘The sitting room is on the left, Herr Eicke.’
He opened the door and strode with purpose into the centre of the room. ‘I intended to see you before you returned to Scotland. Sorry I was too busy to visit you sooner.’ He held his hands behind his back, and she heard one hand tapping the other impatiently.
‘You knew I was returning to visit my parents?’ she asked, her throat as dry as the desert.
‘Yes, of course. I knew you were about to leave,’ he said as he took out his handkerchief and polished his glasses. Hilda saw him as an older man without his spectacles on.
‘If my wife and I go on holiday, as we did to Bad Liebensel last year, we each take one case. That is more than sufficient. I see you are packing two trunks.’ He pointed towards the hall.
‘I am taking quite a lot as you can see, to make the house less congested.’
His eyes lingered on the cases. ‘I see. Yes, Otto told me. Well, in fact, he did not. It was a change of address for his next of kin that alerted me to your intentions to travel. Not just a short visit abroad, I suspect. He has named Karl and Renate Richter as his guardians.’ He paused for a moment to let his information sink in. ‘A little unusual, perhaps?’