Berlin: A Novel

'No time,' she told him. She lay awake until long after midnight, thinking. Nadja Horn echoed Erik in different words. 'Well, yes, you've tricked your way into this little speaking part. And I'll hand it to you, you did it very cleverly. But it doesn't make you an actress just like that. Finish drama school, learn the classic roles, and if you're good success will come of itself. So long as those brown goblins don't wreck everything first.' Nadja made no secret of her opinion of the National Socialists. She poured more tea. Are you happy with him, child?'

'He's the best man in the world. Nadja — what did Queen Louise look like?'

'Since when have you been so interested in history?'

'Since Conrad Jung started planning a movie about her.'

'Oh, don't start on about that again. Put it out of your mind.'

'Louise of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, wife of Frederick William III of Prussia. Born 1776. Mother of Frederick William IV and William I. Napoleon was greatly impressed by her noble bearing after his victory over Prussia.' Karin had been reading her up in the big Brockhaus encyclopaedia. 'She must have been very beautiful,' she said dreamily. 'She died when she was only thirtysix. I look older than I am, don't I?'

'What are you planning?'

Karin had thought it all out. 'Jung will be shooting Love and Duty for three more weeks. Then he'll be cutting the film. During that time he'll go home to his family on the Scharmiitzelsee only on Saturdays and Sundays. He'll be staying in town during the week. He has an apartment on Lehniner Platz, right behind the Comedians' Cabaret. I'm going to pay him a surprise visit there in the character of Louise. Will you help me, Nadja?'

'You're out of your mind.'

'But what could happen? He can only throw me out!'

Nadja Horn never drank sweet tea, but now she put sugar cube after sugar cube in her cup. After the sixth cube she burst into a peal of laughter. 'That's the craziest story of the year,' she gasped. 'Let's rope in Manon Arens,' she added, quietening down.

Marion Arens was a hunchbacked, elderly spinster who had been costume designer at the Schauspielhaus since time immemorial. An Empire line dress, pale blue trimmed with grey,' she decided, and found her visitors just the thing among the stock costumes, with all its accessories. 'Good luck, little one,' she chuckled, looking up at Karin, who towered above her.

Roland-Roland, star hairdresser at the Komische Oper, did the historic hairstyle and diadem. He paid a special visit to Nadja's apartment. He had not been let in on the secret. Have fun at your fancy dress party,' he said to Karin.

Nadja looked Karin over. You make an enchanting young queen,' she pronounced, as if sizing up a racehorse. She put a long black evening cloak around her protegee's shoulders. 'Karin Rembach doesn't suit you. You need a new name.'

'Verena van Bergen,' Karin suggested. 'Remember?'

'Of course I remember. Right, why not Verena van Bergen? It sounds Aryan and aristocratic. Just what those brown goblins like. Break a leg, my dear.'

A taxi drove Karin to Lehniner Platz. Conrad Jung opened his door, and didn't recognize his visitor. 'May I come in?' she asked.

'Who are you? What do you want?'

She put back the hood, let her cape fall to the floor, and stood straight and tall before him in her pale blue Empire dress. Her shining eyes rivalled the diadem in her hair. 'I ask it not for myself, Sire,' she said in a warm voice. 'I ask it for Prussia.'

He was amazed. Now he knew who she was. 'Karin Rembach, am I right?'

'Verena van Bergen from now on.'

He scrutinized her with admiration. 'Well staged, Verena van Bergen,' he said appreciatively. All the same — why should I give you the part?'

Karin undid a clasp. The dress sank to the floor. She was naked underneath it.

'This is why,' she said with a little smile.

'You're a quick learner. Congratulations on Queen Louise.' Erik de Winter had come back from Vienna to take a bow at the premiere of Conrad Jung's Love and Duty at the Gloria Palast. 'Shall we see each other after the showing?'

'I'm afraid not.' Some instinct warned her against going to the party after the premiere when both her old and her new lover would be there. 'I have an early-morning driving lesson. I've already ordered my car, a wonderful new convertible, black and yellow with spoked wheels. I still can't believe I can afford such things. Please don't be cross, Erik.'

Another time, then.' He was a good loser.

She embraced him, her lips close to his ear. 'Thank you,' she whispered. 'Thank you for everything.'

'Take it easy, please, Fraulein Rembach. Let the clutch in slowly. That's right. Light pressure on the accelerator at the same time, treat it like a raw egg.,

The raw egg suggestion didn't quite work, for the driving school car shot abruptly forward and nearly mounted the pavement. Karin was clinging to the steering wheel, but not going straight ahead. The driving instructor calmly put things right. 'There, now take your right foot off the accelerator, left foot down on the clutch again. Keep the clutch pressed down. Now put the car into second gear the way we practised on the dummy model. No, don't look down. Look forward, the way you're going. Good, that's right. Left foot off the clutch, right foot down on the gas. Drive straight ahead. Now, the third and last gear. Clutch, change gear, accelerator.'

An architect called Speer had knocked a breach through the sea of buildings in West Berlin to lay out a street from the Brandenburg Gate to Adolf Hitler-Platz. It was wide enough for marches, parades and thousands of spectators. This was the street where the driving instructor had chosen to practise. Karin rounded the Victory Column and made for the Brandenburg Gate. As long as she could concentrate on steering without the distractions of letting in the clutch and changing gear, she was all right.

'Well done,' said her fellow-pupil from the back seat. 'I'm Isabel Jordan: she told Karin after the driving lesson. She was a slender, dark-blonde woman with grey eyes, taller than Karin and a few years older.

And I'm Karin Rembach.'

'Your first lesson, wasn't it? I've had five already. My husband insists. He says he's tired of driving me to my dressmaker. But really he'd like me to drive him about so that he can study his files on the way to court. He's a lawyer, you see.' Isabel Jordan went on chatting cheerfully. 'What do you do, Fraulein Rembach?'

'I'm a movie actress. I've just ordered my first car.'

'Congratulations. My husband has lots of you movie people among his clients. There he is. Come on, we'll drive you home. Darling, this is Karin Rembach. She's an actress.'

'Verena van Bergen, surely?' Dr Rainer Jordan kissed Karin's hand. 'Conrad Jung's Queen Louise. You're the talk of Babelsberg.'

'It's my stage name,' Karin explained to her new acquaintance.

'So you're a real film star! When does work on the movie start?'

'Next week. Shooting will take almost a year.'

'If the Great Powers don't come to some agreement on Poland we'll be in the middle of a war by then,' Dr Jordan prophesied.

'Don't listen to him. He's a professional pessimist. You must come and have dinner with us some evening soon. I'll call you.'

A guttural voice with an accent that could have belonged to a suburban Viennese pimp issued from the radio set in the dressing room. 'There have been exchanges of fire since 5.45.' It was Friday, 1 September 1939. The German Army had marched into Poland.

'So now we're in the shit and no mistake.' Grethe Weiser turned off the radio. The director had given the popular actress the part of Countess Thann, a lady in waiting who told the young queen home truths in a downto-earth Berlin accent. Karin liked her colleague. She didn't mince her words outside her role either.