And what, Gudrun asked herself, will mother do with it?
She worried over it as she donned an apron and set to work. They’d been told at school, time and time again, that seditious literature had to be handed in to the police at once. Gudrun remembered, at the time, trying to decide what counted as seditious; the definitions they’d been given were very broad, too broad to understand. Her mother would show the leaflet to her father and then… and then what? Who knew what her father would do?
The door opened. Gudrun looked up, just in time to see Kurt sneaking into the kitchen and making a beeline for the cookie jar. She hissed at him threateningly – their mother would be furious if he spoiled his appetite before the main meal of the day – and chased him back out of the kitchen. He raised his hands in mock surrender as he retreated; Gudrun was tempted to ask him why he wasn’t in the barracks, but swallowed the thought as she realised he might well have seen the leaflets too. Who knew what the soldiers had made of them?
And he might guess I had something to do with them, she thought, as she put the chopped vegetables into water and put the pot on the stove. He knows Konrad’s a cripple – and unlikely to survive.
Her mother came back downstairs, muttering under her breath, and bustled into the kitchen, issuing orders with all the determination of an army officer. Gudrun pushed her fears out of her mind and set to work following them, silently grateful that her mother was doing her fair share of the work. One of her friends who’d married young had told her that the mother-in-law did nothing, apart from issuing instructions and moaning when they weren’t followed to the letter. Gudrun had privately determined she wouldn’t be marrying anyone unless they moved into a private home, well away from the in-laws. She hadn’t been looking forward to the argument with Konrad…
She sagged against the table as it struck her, again. There wouldn’t be any arguments with Konrad; there wouldn’t be anything with Konrad, ever. He’d die in a hospital bed, his life support cut off, or he’d remain a cripple for the rest of his life. The nurse had talked about brain damage. Gudrun was no doctor, but she knew that brain damage could be impossible to repair. His body was still alive, yet his soul might have fled long ago.
“Gudrun,” her mother snapped. “What’s got into you, girl?”
“I’m sorry,” Gudrun said, pulling herself upright. “I… I’m just tired.”
Her mother gave her a considering look. “You had better go to bed early, after you’ve taken Grandpa Frank his dinner,” she said, finally. “You’ll be useless if you go to the university without a good night’s sleep.”
Gudrun was tempted to protest that she worked hard at home and at the university, but she kept that thought to herself as she heard the front door open. The one time she’d complained about having to do all the chores herself – her brothers were allowed to get away with leaving their rooms messy – her mother had pointed out that she needed to develop the skills to be a good wife and mother. There was no point in having the same argument a second time.
She looked up as her father entered the kitchen. He was wearing his green uniform – he normally changed at the station – and looked grim.
“I’m going to have to go back to the station tonight,” he said, after he gave his wife a hug and kiss. “The captain wants us all on duty.”
“I’ve got something to show you,” his wife said. She looked back at Gudrun. “Get the food on the table, please.”
“Yes, mother,” Gudrun said, feeling a chill running down her spine. “Beer?”
“No beer,” her father said, quickly. “Just coffee, please.”
Gudrun nodded and turned away before her father could see the guilt written all over her face. He’d always been good at spotting their lies, when they’d been children; Gudrun and her brothers had learned long ago that it was pointless to try to deceive their father. Did he know, she asked herself, that she was worried about something? Or was he too wrapped up in his own troubles to worry about hers?
“I told you not to read it,” her mother said, loudly enough for Gudrun to hear her even though the walls. “I told you…”
She picked up the pan and carried it through the door, into the dining room. Kurt was standing at one side of the table, the leaflet in his hand; their parents were standing at the other side, glaring at him. Gudrun kept her eyes lowered as she put the pan on the table, then looked up to see Kurt holding out the leaflet. She took it, only to have it snatched out of her hand by her father.
“Father,” Kurt said.
“I will not have this… this seditious crap in my house,” her father snapped. He stuffed the leaflet into his pocket and glared at his son. “And showing it to your sister was unwise…”
“It concerns her,” Kurt said, calmly.
Gudrun looked up at him. “What does it say?”
“None of your business, young lady,” her mother said. “Go back and bring in the meat!”
“It says that soldiers who have stopped writing are crippled or dead and the government is covering it up,” Kurt said. “Soldiers like Konrad…”
Gudrun felt her mouth drop open in shock. Kurt had guessed. He had to have guessed… and he’d given her a cover she could use to protect herself, if she wished. Now she’d have an excuse for knowing about Konrad’s injury.
She turned to her father. “Konrad is wounded?”
“His name isn’t mentioned,” her father said, crossly. “Whoever is passing out these leaflets used BDM girls as pawns. They’re monsters.”
“Show me the leaflet,” Gudrun demanded, angrily. It wasn’t a tone she would have normally dared to use, but she felt she could get away with it now. “I need to see.”
“No, you don’t,” her father said. “Everyone who sees one of these leaflets is going to be in deep trouble.”
“Including us,” Kurt said, coolly. “Where did it even come from?”
“I found it in the letterbox,” their mother said. “I don’t know who brought it here!”
“Whoever they are, they will be tracked down and punished,” their father snapped. He stamped his foot angrily. “They’re telling lies!”
“I haven’t heard anything from Konrad in months,” Gudrun said, careful not to look at her father. He might see the lie written on her face. “His family hasn’t heard anything from him either.”
“He would hardly be the first young man to be more interested in fighting than writing,” her father said. He sounded as though he was trying to be reassuring, but couldn’t quite pull it off. “Why, when I was a soldier, there were times when I didn’t write to your mother for weeks. The postal system was so disorganised that I sometimes got three or four letters from her in a single packet and had to be careful to read them in order…”
“And father was less than pleased you weren’t writing,” her mother added. “He told you off for it when you came home on leave.”
“Konrad promised he would write to me every week,” Gudrun said, feeling a sudden lump in her throat. “And then he just stopped!”
“Maybe he found someone else,” Siegfried said.
Gudrun blinked in shock. When had he entered the room?
Kurt slapped the back of his head, hard. “Shut up,” he snapped. “Or I’ll make damn sure that the only girl who will ever look at you will be an ugly old bitch…”
“Kurt,” their mother thundered.