9.
CHRISTMAS EVE WOULDN’T BE the same without a tree. The smell of fresh pine would evoke fond memories of Christmases past that would make them laugh, and, if only momentarily, forget the war.
Fabienne had cut down two small pine trees she’d found deep in the forest, putting the smaller one in the cottage living room and leaving Nancy to fix a few candles to the branches while they finished their duties at the house. She dragged the larger tree across the yard through the snow and into the kommandant’s kitchen.
As she lifted the tree to stand it upright, snow fell from its pines. “What do you think?” she asked Mamie.
Mamie dried her hands and eased a couple of the branches down. “With a bit of shaping, it will be perfect.”
Astrid came into the kitchen, Lakritze at her heels. He launched himself at the tree, and Astrid laughed. “Wow, it’s huge.”
The tree could fit through a doorway so it wasn’t that big, and it was quite spindly, but it was the best Fabienne could find without traipsing for hours, and it was better than nothing.
Astrid ran her fingers through the pine needles. “It’s real and it’s beautiful.”
Frau Neumann entered the kitchen. Seeing the tree, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkled. “Oh, how lovely.”
Fabienne smiled inwardly at Frau Neumann’s genuine happiness. If the magic of Christmas Eve didn’t lift their spirits, she wasn’t sure anything could. “We don’t have any decorations, I’m afraid. Just a few bits of candle for the holders. Where would you like me to put it?”
Frau Neumann looked at her daughter. “What do you think, Astrid? In the dining room?”
Astrid toyed with the lower branches, sniffed her fingers and nodded. “It smells strong, and like fresh air.”
“I just cut it,” Fabienne said. She’d hoped to have had the time to find a tree earlier in the month so they could enjoy the build-up to Christmas for longer, but Müller had given them additional cleaning tasks and unnecessary repairs to do, just for the hell of it.
“And it’s still got snow on it,” Astrid said. She plucked a small clump from a branch and ate it and brushed off the remaining flakes.
Frau Neumann laughed. “It hasn’t anymore.”
Fabienne dragged the tree through to the living room and lay it on the floor to the left of the piano, closer to the foyer, in the corner of the room. “I’ll go and fill a bucket with soil to stand it in.”
“What about the snow?” Frau Neumann said.
Fabienne planned to get a mix of soil, manure and stones from inside one of the cow sheds where the earth wasn’t as hard. “I’ll have to dig down deeper,” she said, enjoying the tease. She couldn’t tell whether Frau Neumann thought she was slightly, amusingly bonkers, or if it was a look of admiration that showed in her eyes. Christmas was Fabienne’s favourite time of the year, and she was high with anticipation of the gift she planned for Nancy that she’d wrestled with for the last couple of weeks.
Watching Astrid having fun with Lakritze now reinforced that she’d made the right decision.
She’d been monitoring the new litter of kittens with tortoiseshell-coloured fur and big green eyes, that had been born late in November. There had been six at the start and now there were two. The winter would probably have taken them as well if she hadn’t rescued them. She had put them in the empty woodshed with a bowl of milk and blanket and made up a litter tray. She was excited, and hoped Nancy would be too.
The war wasn’t going to get in the way of them making the most out of this one special day, as they had tried to do every year since it had started. The first year had been the hardest without their parents, but Fabienne had made a promise to herself and to their memory to celebrate the occasion as best they could, no matter what. She had managed to get hold of a small joint of meat, more bone than flesh, in exchange for eight eggs and some potatoes and a chunk of cheese from the cave. They would have the finest meal of the year and raise a toast to their good fortune. Because, even though it wasn’t a lot, it was more than most people had.
Frau Neumann, who had been staring at Fabienne, turned to Astrid. “How about a hot chocolate to celebrate Christmas Eve?”
Astrid squealed excitedly and sat next to the tree, while Lakritze dove onto the middle of it and pawed at the pine needles. She started to play a game with him, making the branches move so he attacked them.
Johanna went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine and made Astrid her drink. Warmed by Fraulein Brun’s kindness, she watched her go back out into the snow for them. She had done more than Gerhard to make Astrid’s Christmas memorable, and Johanna wished she could invite both Frenchwomen to stay for a drink with her. God knew, she was desperate for the company and, especially at this time of year, missing her family and friends.
She’d loved Christmastime as a child, and in Berlin with her own children when Ralf was a young boy and Astrid a baby. Singing songs around the log fire while drinking mulled wine and eating stollen, stockings hanging from the chimney waiting to be filled, children’s laughter, and dozens of presents under the tree. It was magical. The image reminded her of her mother, who she hadn’t heard from since moving here. She should write her a letter, if only to tell her she was still alive, and hope for the same in response.
She took their drinks into the dining room with a heavy heart.
“Will you play the piano, Mutter?”
She shook her head and handed Astrid the chocolate drink. “I’m tired, my darling.” It was an excuse and she hated herself for making it. She’d been obligated to play at social events in Berlin to show her allegiance to the Reich but privately, if she wasn’t allowed to play what she wanted, she had no desire to play at all.
“But you don’t play anymore.” Astrid gulped down the drink until the cup was empty.
Astrid didn’t push Johanna any further, but Johanna couldn’t stand being the source of Astrid’s disappointment. She was doing her daughter a disservice by not immersing herself in something that had previously given her such pleasure. She had to set a positive example of female strength, so that Astrid would grow up with the confidence to take on the world. Perhaps it would do Johanna good to rediscover some form of normality too, as Astrid had found with Lakritze.
She went to the piano and sat, allowing her fingers to be her guide. One of the joys of music was that even if the lyrics to a song were changed, as the Reich had done to so many, the scores themselves were not. She could imagine the old lyrics rather than the doctored version. She wouldn’t sing because that would give her away. She played “Silent Night” and then “O Tannenbaum”.
She hadn’t realised Fraulein Brun had returned, but when she stopped playing, the fraulein was standing in the doorway with a bucket filled with mud, and a stunned expression.
Fabienne had been brought to a halt in the kitchen by the beautiful sound and hypnotised into the living room in silence. Her mother hadn’t played as well as the kommandant’s wife. It had been Fabienne’s grandfather who had bought the piano for Mamie. Mamie had stopped playing after her husband died of a heart attack in 1912. They’d kept it tuned and well looked after until the war, and it had held its tune since.
Fabienne used to tinkle a bit, but Frau Neumann was exceptionally talented. She smiled at Fabienne, and Fabienne became aware that the music had stopped. She was sorry she’d interrupted.
“Do you play?” Frau Neumann asked.
Fabienne came forward with the bucket. “No.” She set it in the corner of the room and dug a pit in the middle of the mix with her hand. “You play beautifully.”
“Mutter’s the best in Berlin,” Astrid said.
Fabienne had been proud of her mother too. As she held Frau Neumann’s gaze, it was as if they held a secret between them. “I have no doubt about that.”
“It’s a wonderful piano,” Frau Neumann said. She stroked the light-brown wood with tenderness.
“Papy bought it for Mamie when they got married. He used to play a little, but it’s Mamie who is the talented one in our family. My maman played a little, and Nancy, when we lived here.”
Frau Neumann got up from the seat. “It’s such an important thing to have in our lives,” she said. “We would be nothing without the gift of music. Like art, it reaches into our heart, comforts us in our darkest moments, and unites us through its beauty.”
Fabienne sensed her loss as equal to her passion. “Let’s hope the war doesn’t take that from us too,” she said. Remorse tainted her smile.
Frau Neumann nodded. “Let me help you with that.” She started to cross the room.
Fabienne saw Müller before Frau Neumann.
“I’ll do that, Frau Neumann. It’s not a woman’s job.” He sneered at Fabienne. “You lift it and I’ll guide it,” he said. Fabienne held the top, and between them they put it in the pot. He stood and grabbed the top branches roughly. “You sort out the soil.”
It was no surprise that he wasn’t going to get his hands dirty. Fabienne pressed the mix firmly around the trunk, so the tree wouldn’t tilt.
Nanny entered the living room and cleared her throat. “I’m sorry to trouble you, Frau Neumann. I wanted to know if you were planning to go to the Women’s League meeting this evening?”
Fabienne watched joy drain from Frau Neumann, her gaze flitting as if unsettled by the invitation, and Astrid’s obvious disappointment as she watched her mother closely. Fabienne had heard about the meetings that were attended by the German women to propagate messages from the Reich. She couldn’t imagine Frau Neumann wanting to be party to them. From what she’d seen of her interaction with her daughter over the tree, she guessed Frau Neumann would rather spend the evening with Astrid and playing piano.
“I have a bit of a headache coming on, so I’ll skip this one.”
Frau Neumann avoided the nanny’s stern stare, and Fabienne noted her hands were trembling. She smiled inwardly at the rebuff, though it had clearly cost Frau Neumann a lot to reject the invitation, and she shifted her attention from Nanny, who looked as though she had something to say about Frau Neumann’s decision, to Müller who, with deadly smiling eyes, looked as though he was taking note of an indiscretion, and it would give him immense pleasure to inform the kommandant.
Frau Neumann kept her focus on Nanny. “Hauptmann Müller can take you.”
“I am under orders—”
Fabienne hadn’t seen Frau Neumann as fierce as she looked now, with her arms tight to her sides, her hands clenched into fists. She wanted to watch Müller squirm, but he didn’t seem to bat an eyelid. Though Nanny blinked repeatedly as she watched.
“And I am telling you. You will take Hilda into town and wait for her until the meeting is finished. Her safety is important to us all. My husband will be back soon, and he is more than capable of looking after me and Astrid.”
Müller clicked his heels, bowed his head, and retreated into the foyer. Nanny left the room.
Fabienne wondered if Frau Neumann felt as she did, that they had intruded in more ways than one and had stolen from them the one small treasure that was a shared moment in which the war didn’t exist.
“Will that be all today, Frau Neumann?” Fabienne asked. “I put the candles and holders on the kitchen table. I thought you might like to dress the tree with Astrid.”
Frau Neumann gave her an apologetic smile. “Yes, of course. I don’t expect to see you tomorrow.”
Fabienne thought she saw a quiver in her lips. “If you are sure?”
Frau Neumann cleared her throat. “Yes. I can manage for a day.”
Her smile spoke of sadness and Fabienne sensed her loneliness. She went into the kitchen. Mamie draped a cloth over the tap.
Frau Neumann appeared suddenly behind them as they were about to head out the door. She went to the fridge and took out a bottle of Riesling and a jug of home-made berry cordial. She looked at Fabienne, then at Mamie. “Take these, celebrate together.”
Mamie reached out hesitantly and took the offered gifts. “Thank you, Frau Neumann. That’s very kind.”
Frau Neumann nodded and went back into the dining room. “What shall I play next?”
It sounded to Fabienne as though she was trying to be cheerful for Astrid, although her voice had a strange, slightly broken lilt that touched Fabienne. She wished she could stay and listen to her play – wished they could just sit and talk, woman to woman.
Instead, she and her grandmother walked across the yard in silence and Mamie entered the cottage kitchen via the back door. Fabienne went to the woodshed and gathered the kittens inside her coat. When she entered the kitchen, Mamie had poured them both a glass of wine, and Nancy was sat at the table with a glass of cordial. The sweet sound of carols playing on the gramophone in the living room filled the space. Lit candles flickered on the tree. Just before midnight they would pray together, since the curfew stopped them celebrating with a traditional midnight mass in church.
Nancy finished her drink, leaving a ribbon of red across her lips. “That was amazing.”
She looked happy, and Fabienne wanted her to hold onto the feeling forever. “I’ve got something for you,” Fabienne said, unable to contain her excitement.
The two kittens popped their heads out of the top of her coat. Nancy’s face lit up, brighter than all the stars in the sky. She approached the kittens and gently stroked their tiny heads, her smile beaming as they started to purr.
Fabienne’s heart swelled with love. There was no better feeling than this, and if it turned out to be their last Christmas, it would be the most memorable one.