Love in the Shadows

8.

GERHARD WAS LATE HOME again. Every evening had been the same in the three months since they’d arrived, as was his dismissal of both Johanna and Astrid. When she didn’t feel invisible, which was most of the time around him, she felt like an inconvenience.

She sat at the piano, lifted the lid and ran her fingers lightly across the surface of the keys, glancing at the photo of Ralf. How she would love to play but what with worrying about her son on top of everything else, her heart wasn’t in it. If her husband had changed so much over the last two years, she didn’t want to think what might have happened to her precious and impressionable boy. She stared out the window, the snow gathering on the ledge as a blizzard swirled outside. Christmas was fast approaching. Not only was it clearly not going to bring the end of the war, but as a time that should be rejoiced, shared with family, fun and laughter, song and celebration, it would inevitably be another let down for Astrid. How could Johanna make it special for her?

“I’m hungry, Mutter,” Astrid said. She was sitting on the floor playing with Lakritze, who had become cuter and more playful. He followed Astrid like a sheep and Astrid loved him to bits, which lightened Johanna’s heart a little. She was grateful to Fraulein Brun for making Astrid happy, and she’d enjoyed the fraulein’s courage. She wished she could tell her as much.

She closed the lid over the keys and went into the kitchen. “Fraulein Brun, I think it best if Astrid eats now. I will wait for the kommandant.”

“I will see to it right away.”

Johanna returned to the dining room. Müller hovered on the threshold to the foyer. A shiver snaked down her spine as he stared at her, undressed her. He had an air about him she didn’t like, didn’t trust. She felt disrespected, violated and powerless, even though he hadn’t done anything to her. “You are dismissed, Müller.”

“I am under instruction from the kommandant to keep guard over you, Frau Neumann. It is a job I take with the utmost seriousness. And the kommandant would not be pleased if I failed in my duties.” He smiled.

She detested that he made her feel like a prisoner in what was supposed to be her home. She straightened her back and held his gaze. “And I said you may leave.”

He continued to contest her with his stare, until eventually he clicked his heels and saluted. “Very well, I will wait out of sight, Frau Neumann.” He went towards the back of the foyer, under the stairs.

Knowing he was there, she couldn’t relax.

Fraulein Brun entered from the kitchen with a plate of food. “Where would you like this, Frau Neumann?”

Johanna pointed to a spot at the table and addressed her daughter. “Come along, darling. Dinner is ready.”

Fraulein Brun crouched down and tapped the floor with her fingers. Lakritze ran to her and attacked her hand playfully.

Astrid laughed at the kitten’s antics. She sat and quickly ate the meat stew and potatoes.

Fraulein Brun stood up, and the kitten bounded towards Astrid and attacked her feet as she swung them under the chair.

Astrid squealed and reached down, and he pawed her hand.

The brief step into normality was heart-warming.

Astrid jumped down from the table and picked up Lakritze. “I’m going to my room.”

Once Astrid had gone, Fraulein Brun turned to Johanna. “Can I get you a drink?”

Johanna nodded. “Wine is in order, I think.”

Fraulein Brun returned quicky and held a glass out to Johanna and for a moment the look they shared was as intimate as anything Johanna had ever experienced. She took the glass, and her fingertips lightly grazed the back of Fraulein Brun’s hand. The bruises she’d sustained when “fixing the sink” had healed – she suspected Müller had been the cause of them, but she hadn’t been able to ask in front of Müller – and she was thankful no new marks had appeared in the months since.

Johanna’s breath hitched at the contact and her heart raced, and then she burned with anger.

“Frau Neumann?”

She jolted at Müller’s voice and turned towards him. How long had he been standing in the doorway? What had he seen? Her heart thundered heavily and her hand trembled around the glass.

“The kommandant is here,” he said. He clicked his heels and went to greet him.

“Would you like me to serve the food now or after your drink?” Fraulein Brun asked.

Johanna shook her head. “Go home. I will serve us tonight.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Now go, before my husband overrules my decision.”

Fraulein Brun nodded. “We made you a bean stew. Both pots are on the stove.”

Johanna waited until the back door closed before heading into the kitchen to fetch a bottle of wine. She poured her husband a glass and handed it to him as he entered the dining room. Müller stood to attention in the foyer, watching through the doorway into the room.

“Can we dismiss him, please?” She glanced in his direction.

“You may go,” Gerhard said. He took a slug of his wine, almost emptying the glass. He took off his hat and tapped the snow from it and placed it on the sideboard. “Where’s Astrid?”

Johanna refilled his glass. “She was tired. I sent her to bed. I hope you don’t mind.”

The lie slipped effortlessly from her tongue. She would rather their daughter didn’t get to see his moods; better to let her hold on to the childhood images of him that she hoped Astrid would remember. Though she wondered if it was already too late. She took a sip of her wine and sat at her seat at the table, the furthest from him.

He sat at the head, as always, and looked around the room as if deliberately avoiding eye contact.

“How was your day?” she asked, since he seemed to have nothing to say.

“My day is not of concern.” He finished his drink and poured himself another.

How did she broach the topic of Müller with him? Her heart pounded harder than it had when the officer had almost caught her concern for Fraulein Brun. If either Müller or Gerhard suspected she was fraternising, she could be shot as a French sympathiser, even though she had done nothing wrong except for perhaps showing empathy for another human being’s suffering.

She straightened her back in the seat. “Astrid has had a good day. Lakritze has cheered her up no end.”

“Hmm. When are we going to eat?”

She went into the kitchen, served the food onto their plates, and brought them back to the table.

“Where are the Frenchwomen? This is their job, not yours.”

She set the plate in front of him. “I thought this might be nice for a change.” She had hoped to talk to him about Christmas and whether, since they were together this year and hadn’t been for the previous two, they might spend some time together as a family to celebrate. That, and to talk about Müller.

He started eating without regard for what she’d said.

She picked at her food, even though it tasted good. “Is it necessary for Müller to be here?” she asked.

He stopped the fork before it got to his mouth and placed the cutlery on his plate. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, slid his tongue back and forth across his teeth, smacked his lips. “Do you think he would be here if it wasn’t?”

She lowered her eyes to her food. “I don’t like him.”

Gerhard stood up quickly, flinging his chair backwards. She trembled inside and hoped it didn’t show. “He’s not here to be liked. He is here to protect you and Astrid.”

She stood up and held his gaze. “He scares me. Is that what you want?”

“Fear is the antidote to stupidity,” he said.

“Really? You want your daughter to be brought up fearing every man she meets? Müller is a bully.”

“Hauptmann Müller is a decorated officer who is held in high esteem.” He stepped towards her, pure rage in his eyes.

“Then surely he should be out there fighting the war rather than here monitoring my every move. It’s like we’re in a prison, Gerhard.”

He slapped her across the face before she had time to move away. Without thinking, she slapped him back. “Don’t you dare raise your hand to me,” she said, her insides shaking with rage and regret. She would not let him bully her, no matter the cost. Her knees threatened to buckle when he put his hand on his pistol. “Go on, shoot me. Then you will have to explain to our daughter that you murdered me.” She started to sob. “What has happened to you, Gerhard? This is not who you were.”

He relaxed his grip on the handle of the gun and averted her gaze. “This is who I need to be for us to win the war, Johanna. You would rather Germany lost? You are ignorant and na?ve, and you think the women who work here…” He pointed in the direction of the kitchen. “You think they wouldn’t kill you in an instant?”

Johanna shook her head. “You are wrong, Gerhard. War makes men crazy. I do not need a guard in the house, and I do not want Müller anywhere near either of us.” She could hardly say she didn’t want him near the Frenchwomen, though she was sure he had inflicted the injuries on Fraulein Brun the day after Johanna had arrived, and that alone was a good-enough reason to get rid of him.

“Müller is staying. Get used to it.” He picked up his glass and filled it. “By the way, you should know we are expected for dinner with Generalmajor Bauer and his wife on New Year’s Eve.” He looked at her. “Remember, not everyone will be tolerant of your opinions, Johanna. The generalmajor will not be as forgiving as me if you challenge him.” He turned with his glass and left the dining room.

She slumped onto the seat and stared at the picture of his father on the wall. If she had known Gerhard would turn out just like him, she would never have married him. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and even though she wanted to scream she felt too deflated to respond with such force.

The plates of food had barely been touched. Lakritze and the chickens would feed well on the scraps tomorrow. She finished her glass of wine and poured herself another. Once she’d finished the bottle, she took everything through to the kitchen. She would leave the dishes for the Frenchwomen. She was sure they wouldn’t mind.

As she lay in bed, in the eerie silence the snow had created, she couldn’t stop thinking about the way Fraulein Brun had looked at her, the yearning for understanding in her dark brown eyes that had touched Johanna deeply. She recalled the softness of her skin and strength in her hand, and the memory triggered the same electric response as she’d had then. She hadn’t felt anything like it before. It left her vulnerable, caught her off guard. What to do with such feelings?

She might be afraid of what Hauptmann Müller was capable of, but that paled by comparison with the connection she had with the dark-haired, dark-eyed fraulein. She would have to guard her emotions well and keep an appropriate distance from Fraulein Brun, so as not to give Müller anything to be suspicious about. He was one of those officers who didn’t need a reason to inflict pain on others; he probably sought pleasure from it, and that made him the worst kind of dangerous.

She closed her eyes and allowed her thoughts to drift. The least Johanna could do was to repay Fraulein Brun’s kindness towards her and Astrid. It cost nothing to be kind, and she wanted Astrid to know compassion rather than just the hate they were surrounded by.