Stardust

Stardust ~ Section I

By Ulrike and Cindy C

Posted on Saturday, 7 July 2007

Stardust (Words by Mitchell Parish and music by Hoagy Carmichael, c. 1929)

And now the purple dust of twilight time
Steals across the meadows of my heart
Now the little stars, the little stars pine
Always reminding me that we're apart
You wander down the lane and far away
Leaving me a love that cannot die
Love is now the stardust of yesterday
The music of the years gone by.

Sometimes I wonder why I spend
The lonely nights
Dreaming of a song
That melody haunts my reverie
And I am once again with you
When our love was new
And each kiss an inspiration
Ah, but that was long ago
Now my consolation
Is in the stardust of a song

Beside a garden wall
Where stars are bright
You are in my arms
That nightingale tells its fairy tale
of paradise where roses grew
Though I dream in vain
In my heart it will remain
my stardust melody
The memory of love's refrain.

Ah, but that was long ago
Now my consolation
Is in the stardust of a song

Chapter One

Walther von Eltow, formerly of Rittergut Kaehlau, a country house in the Königsberg area of East Prussia, was very proud of his family background. He often took down a Bible that had the Eltow history inscribed in it and admired his own handiwork.

Walther von Eltow, born 1st March, 1894. Married 15th July, 1918 (after the war, of course), Elisabeth, daughter of Johann Schenk, of Hanover (d. 1933).

The children were listed as Elisabeth (Elsa), b. 1st June, 1919; Anna, b. 9th August, 1920; a son, christened Walther Wilhelm, born and died on 5th November, 1923; and Maria, b. 20th November, 1925.

Added later behind Maria's name were "Married, 16th December, 1934, Karl, son and heir of Karl Waldung, of Mannheim." He also added the day his wife had died. After that was a history of the ancient family of von Eltow, ending with "heir presumptive, Wilhelm Walther von Eltow," even though there was no longer anything for Wilhelm to inherit.

The sad truth was, the war had diminished both the wealth and influence of the von Eltow family, leaving Walther and his two unmarried daughters, as well as his solicitor, Herr Schäfer; the solicitor's daughter, Frau Lehm, who was a friend of Elsa's; and Frau von Raetter, an old associate of the family, to eke out a living in a small flat in Heidelberg.

This was a sacrifice for Walther, or so he kept reminding everyone, because he had lived a life of privilege before the war. Truth be told, he had been running the von Eltow name and fortune into the ground for more than a decade, ever since his wife had died. Where she had been able to humor him and hide his failings, as well as practice economy within the family, he had been left to his own devices after her death, giving Elsa free rein over the household.

Frau Freya von Raetter, the elder Elisabeth's oldest and dearest friend, had attempted to provide some guidance for both Walther and Elsa, but they had refused her wise council. This friend and Walther had never married, despite being close neighbors for thirteen years, although he would never have left Königsberg without her when they were forced to flee from their home in 1945, threatened by invasion from the Red Army.

Freya, who had been well-provided for by her husband until that point, had no need to remarry, but it was thought that Walther prided himself on not taking a second wife for his daughters' sake. Elsa was his favorite, being the most like himself, and a handsome girl. They got along splendidly. He cared little for his other daughters, although Maria had become more important to him after moving to Heidelberg, where she was the wife and daughter-in-law of two respected gentlemen. But Anna, the one who kept food on the table and a roof over their heads, was no one to her father and sister, because she had a job in the officer's club at the American army base. She was, however, Freya's favorite.

A few years before, Anna had been a pretty girl, but now her delicate features were beginning to fade. Too thin from poor nutrition as well as working more hours than she probably should, Anna was an embarrassment to her father, who valued good looks above everything else. Maria was less of an annoyance because she was married, taken care of and did not live with them. Elsa, of course, would one day make a brilliant marriage. Of that, he had no doubt. In the meantime, he and Elsa continued to live almost as if nothing in their circumstances had changed, and were a serious strain on Anna's patience, even though this was the one quality she had in abundance.

It was thought at one time that Elsa would marry her father's heir, Wilhelm, but he had chosen, instead, to wed a woman of large fortune, made possibly in trade, and then had disappeared during the war. Walther was angry for his daughter's sake, but their disappointment was soon overshadowed by the larger threat of invasion. They had escaped with little but their lives, but were lucky to be together still, and to have a roof over their heads and regular meals -- it was more than most people had, after all. Still, despite moving closer to Maria "until the trouble was over" and not having gone back since, Walther never gave up hope that he would one day return to Gut Kaehlau, and resume his place there.

No one who knew him well found it surprising that he did not see the need to adapt to his new living conditions. He considered it beneath his dignity to be living in a two-room flat with not only his daughters and a family friend, but also his ex-lawyer, who was still waiting for his "Persilschein"* and therefore unable to procure lodgings of his own. Frau Lehm, who was Elsa's friend, must be tolerated of course, but Herr von Eltow did not see why he should share his room with Herr Schäfer. The only reason why he had not sent Schäfer packing yet was that he, like Anna, contributed to their livelihood. Men being scarce, even Herr Schäfer, who would have loathed getting his hands dirty in the old days, had got a job as an unskilled worker at a local construction firm.

"My dear Herr von Eltow," Herr Schäfer said one evening after dinner, while Anna and Frau Lehm were doing the washing-up. "We simply must cut back on our expenses."

Elsa looked up from her movie magazine (so that was where the money for next Sunday's roast had gone, Anna thought bitterly), and asked, "But how?"

Frau von Raetter was quick to answer that question. "We have drawn up a list, Anna and I."

"Anna? Why Anna?" Elsa protested. "Why didn't anyone ask me?"

Because I am the one who earns your keep, Anna thought but did not say anything. Had anyone watched her, they would merely have noticed that she was scrubbing a plate with more vigor than necessary. But, as usual, no one paid any attention to Anna.

Walther looked over the list and put it back on the table with an imperious gesture. "That's impossible," he exclaimed. "Are we to forswear every comfort in life?"

"We might have to, you know, if we do not take care," Freya von Raetter said cautiously. "I am speaking of cutting back on unnecessary expenses in order to afford necessities."

"Such as?" Elsa asked snappishly.

"Food," Anna suddenly said, fed up with her sister's lady-of-the-manor behavior. "Coal. Electricity. Warm clothes for the winter."

"Well, I did buy myself a hat last week," Elsa pointed out.

"Exactly. I hope it will keep you warm when the winter comes," Anna said, and turned back to the pot she was scrubbing. She had to hurry up, or she would be late for work.

"It's disgraceful, the way we are living here," Herr von Eltow complained. "That things should come to such a pass! That the master of Gut Kaehlau should have to live in this....this rat-hole! It's disgusting!"

"We are lucky to be alive," Freya von Raetter said. "Everything will get better soon. We are just going through a rough patch. Let it not be said, Herr von Eltow, that you, a gentleman of the best Prussian stock, will give up in the face of the first difficulty in your way! We will go back, never you fear!"

"Once they stop the rationing, things might get easier," Herr Schäfer said. "Our money might be worth something at last."

Anna laughed. "I suppose it might, provided we had any," she said. "The bad news is, my wages will remain the same and my American cigarettes** won't take us anywhere anymore."

"I don't like you accepting gifts from the Americans," Herr von Eltow complained.

Anna refrained from telling her father that it had been those gifts that had often put food on their table -- and not just theirs. He would not understand.

"I don't like you working for them, either," Herr von Eltow continued.

"Perhaps if others in this household got a job I could afford to stay at home," Anna retorted.

Herr von Eltow regarded his second daughter with disfavor. She had become loud-mouthed -- positively shrewish -- ever since she had started working in that bar. That, in combination with her unsightliness was enough to put any man off. It would be hard to get rid of her, he supposed.

"Get a job?" Elsa asked. She sounded as shocked as if Anna had told her to go and sell herself at the nearest corner.

"But Elsa surely cannot go looking for a job. She was brought up to be a lady!" Frau Lehm protested.

Anna sighed. One could not have put it more delicately. The truth was that they all had been brought up to be ladies -- to be absolutely no use to anyone. Even if Elsa tried, she would not get a job. She had no qualifications whatsoever. Neither had her father. The only jobs they would probably get were menial ones, and those were precisely the ones they considered beneath them. She would have to continue working her hands off to feed and clothe them until she dropped dead. She could have been well out of this, Anna thought, had she refused to listen to her father in the year '40. But she had obeyed him, and now she would be stuck with him and Elsa till eternity. She began to put the crockery away, shutting out the others' conversation as well as she could, thinking of the might-have-been.

* Persilschein: German slang. In post-war Germany, it was a document stating that a person had not been involved in the Nazi war crimes. "Persil" is the name of a detergent; a "Persilschein" was a document that washed your name clean. Without it, you could not open a business or get lodgings of your own (and lodgings were in short supply then).

** Cigarettes were a sort of alternative currency in post-war Germany (until the currency reform in June 1948 that is).

Chapter Two

Posted on Saturday, 14 July 2007

It was a quiet night at the officer's club, leaving Anna time to visit with some of the regulars, including Lt. Morrow, a junior officer who had a sweetheart back in America.

"I have a new picture of Justine," the young man told her as she wiped the bar in front of him with a damp cloth. "Want to see?"

"Yes, I would like that." Anna thanked one part of her privileged upbringing, and that was the language lessons her mother had thought important. If she had not been able to speak English, she would never have gotten this job, and her family would have likely starved.

Lt. Morrow had just pulled a wallet out of his pocket when a group of drunken men piled in the doorway.

"Anna!" the ringleader of the group called, recognizing her after squinting toward the bar. "Four beers, sweetheart!" He led his stumbling group over to a table and they all laughed uproariously when one man tripped over a crack in the Quonset hut's* wood plank floor.

Anna rolled her eyes at Lt. Morrow, but did as she was requested, and expertly poured four mugs of the local brew. Dealing with drunken officers was nothing new, and she had long practice in avoiding groping hands as she passed around the glasses. This time, however, the man who had tripped fell forward and knocked her arm, sloshing beer into his lap.

"Dammit, girl! Look what you did!" he exclaimed, standing and raising a hand to her.

"I..." Anna was frozen in one spot, too frightened to move.

"Leave her alone, Johnson," Ringleader said. "Do you really want to hit our best barmaid?"

"Pretty little thing, ain't she?" another one asked in a slurred voice.

"Anna?" There was disbelief in Ringleader's reply. "Not really. But she's a good girl. Back down, Johnson, before someone calls an MP*."

Johnson did as the other man requested, but not for long. When they called for another round, he made a grab for Anna's backside. With a wild-eyed expression, she turned on him, but said nothing.

"What?" he sneered. "Don't like it? Rather have one of those German pansies, toots?"

"Leave her alone, Johnson," Lt. Morrow said, appearing suddenly behind Anna.

"Gonna make me, lieutenant?" Johnson taunted. "I think these captain's bars say I outrank you." He made a big show of pointing to his shoulder, and one of the other men snickered.

"Makes no difference to me. Some people would say those bars are undeserved, especially when you spend more time in this one than where you should be, which is in bed, sleeping it off."

"I'll go, if I can take this little honey with me." Johnson eyed Anna up and down.

"Go back to the bar, Anna," Morrow said quietly in her ear. "Get your purse and wait by the back door."

She slid out from between the two men, who had drawn a few onlookers. There might have been more, had the place been more crowded. She could only thank goodness that this was a light night, even if there was nothing easy about it. But she did not go to the door. She stood behind the bar and watched as Morrow and Johnson traded insults, praying that she would not lose her job, that Morrow would not throw the first punch and that the military police were otherwise occupied.

Suddenly, Johnson backed down as a lieutenant colonel came in through the door and headed toward the bar, seemingly oblivious to the scene in the center of the room. Morrow hesitated, not wanting to turn his back on Johnson, who was known in the whole unit for being an unsavory character and very likely to make use of an unfair advantage.

But Johnson was a coward, when all was said and done. While he felt no compunction in bullying anyone he believed to be unable to stand up for themselves, even in his drunken state he did not wish to get into trouble with Lieutenant Colonel Ogilvy. So he sat back down, contenting himself with throwing darkling glances at Anna and Lt Morrow and muttering vicious threats under his breath.

Anna exhaled -- for the first time ever since the trouble had started, it seemed -- and turned to Lieutenant Colonel Ogilvy with what she hoped was a brilliant smile.

"Good evening, sir," she said. "Whisky and soda, as usual?"

"Please," the Lieutenant Colonel said pleasantly.

Anna took a bottle of Scotch whisky from the shelf behind her, and poured some of it into a glass. Though she tried to act as if nothing had happened, her hand trembled considerably. The Colonel would have had to be blind not to notice it.

"Are you OK?" he inquired as Anna filled up the glass with soda and put it on the counter in front of him.

"Yes, I'm fine, thank you," Anna said.

"Are you sure?" The Colonel gave her a searching look. "Those drunkards over there didn't make a nuisance of themselves, then?"

Not for the world would Anna have done anything to get Lt Morrow into trouble, much as she would have wished Johnson to get what he deserved. But it had been her own fault -- she had spilt beer on Johnson, and that had started him off. So she merely shook her head and smiled, downplaying the incident and indicating that she could handle the affair without anyone's assistance.

Anna felt a touch on her shoulder, just as Lt Morrow finally returned to the bar. It was Martha Jaennicke, who was in charge of the kitchen.

"Anna, I need you for a moment," she said in German. Martha was a massive woman, very tall and buxom, with a voice like a drill sergeant and a language that would have put a hardened sailor to the blush. She was in her late forties, and had been employed not only for her skill in the kitchen but also for her expertise in dealing with impertinent soldiers. Martha had been known to drag rowdies outside single-handedly.

"I've been married twice; I know how to hit a man where it really hurts," she had said one memorable evening; and everyone acquainted with her knew that those words were not an empty threat. Everyone treated Martha with the respect born of naked fear.

"Listen, girl," Martha said. "I think it's better if you don't go near that table any more tonight. I'll deal with them, just you see." With a nod of her head, she indicated the table with the drunken officers.

"But you've got enough work to do in the kitchen," Anna protested. In spite of her reputation for fierceness, Martha had a heart of gold and Anna did not want to take advantage of Martha's kindheartedness.

"You'll help me in there, won't you?" Martha said gruffly. "It's either that or off you go. We won't take any risks -- I don't want a brawl in here."

"I can't go home," Anna said. "I'd lose my job if I did."

"Not if you're ill," Martha said. "Anyone looking at you would believe you if you said you were. There's no flesh on those bones of yours! I could look after the bar, and Hermann can work in the kitchen alone -- if I keep looking in on the lazy bastard, that is. It's a quiet evening, we'll manage somehow."

Hermann was Martha's sixteen-year-old son, who toiled in the kitchen under her firm guidance. He was a good lad, but Martha was hard to please. She shared the fate of many women -- she was a war widow, twice over. Her first husband had been killed in action during the early days of the War, her second one in Stalingrad***. Like Anna, she had a family to support, though in her case the family consisted of four children -- her youngest was six years old, the eldest, Hermann, was sixteen.

Anna shook her head. "No, Martha, I can't leave," she said. "That would only make them think I'm afraid of them, and they'd never stop picking on me. I think they'll behave as long as the Lieutenant Colonel is here, and if I'm lucky they'll leave before him. We will be fine as long as I keep away from their table, I think."

"As you wish," Martha said. "But stay away from those idiots over there."

"I will," Anna promised, and turned back to the gentlemen seated at the bar, asking Lt. Morrow if he wanted another drink.

The remainder of the evening passed without any difficulties. Martha dealt with the boisterous troublemakers, and a combination of her basilisk stare and her salty vocabulary soon made them go away. It took more than a couple of drunken Americans to get the better of Martha Jaennicke.

By midnight, only Anna, Martha and Hermann were left in the club, and so Martha locked the door and turned to Anna.

"Time for our nightcap," she said and, with a couple of curt orders, sent Hermann into the kitchen to clean up. She produced a bottle of wine from a cupboard under the counter -- her personal supply -- took two glasses and filled them to the brim.

"There you are," she said, and handed one glass to Anna. "Down with it. You need a stiff drink tonight -- too bad I couldn't get my hands on Schnapps, you could do with some tonight."

Anna laughed. "Do you want to get me drunk? I'll have to walk home later."

"A glass of wine won't kill you," Martha said. "Nor would a Schnapps or two. Though maybe it would," she said, subjecting Anna to close scrutiny. "Hard work and not enough to eat. What you need is a husband to take care of you. I can see that no one else does."

Martha was not known for diplomacy. She spoke her mind freely, and Anna did not mind. It was obvious that the older woman cared for her. Since Anna had started working with her they had become friends.

"And where do I get one of those?" she asked, taking her tone from Martha. Though she never used the coarse language her friend was famous for, she was less guarded in her speech when she was around.

Martha laughed. "Good question."

"I could give Captain Johnson a go," Anna continued, laughingly. "He seemed to be interested."

"I don't say he wouldn't like to have a go," Martha said, waggling her eyebrows. "But I don't think he'd marry you."

"I wouldn't have him if he were a millionaire," Anna said, and added, mimicking her father, "I was made for better things."

"There are a lot of things better than that one," Martha agreed. "A man who'd raise his hand to a woman? Better stay single for the rest of your life. - It's a tricky thing, finding a husband. I wasn't a good hand at choosing mine, you know, so I can't tell you how it works." She squinted through the kitchen door to make sure her son was out of earshot.

"Between them, they'd have made one perfect husband," she confided to Anna. "Heinz, my first, was good in bed but no use once he got his lazy butt out of it. Otto was just the opposite. Hard-working but ever so boring. I only married him for the children's sake anyway -- the boys needed someone steady to look up to. Steady he was, but God he bored me to tears! - I've got to say this in their favor, though, they both treated me well. God rest their poor souls, both of them." Martha drained her glass, and took up the bottle again. "Another one?" she asked. Anna shook her head.

"You wouldn't have put up with any other treatment than the best," she said with a short laugh. She could well imagine Martha ruling her entire family -- including her two husbands -- with a fist of iron. It was not the kind of marriage hers would have been, Anna believed. She lacked Martha's decision of character, and her strong personality that quenched everyone else's beside it. In her case, the stronger and more energetic character had been his.

Martha lit herself a cigarette. "I'll have a look round for you," she announced. "There must be some bloke somewhere that suits you."

Anna smiled, but didn't say anything.

Later, when Anna left the club for the night, Morrow was waiting out in the alley behind the hut for her. His cigarette glowed red in the darkness.

"Are you all right?" he wanted to know. "Didn't get fired? Didn't start any more fights?"

"I am not the one who started the fight," she stiffly replied, walking past him.

"Wait up!" he cried, coming off the wall and falling into step with her. "I was just kidding! Can I walk you home?"

"It is after curfew," she reminded him.

"I'll get permission. It's dangerous for you to be out so late."

Anna was out this late and walked home by herself all the time, but Morrow seemed so persistent, she sighed and accepted his escort. He made a quick detour to some office or other, telling her to wait for him by the gates. She did, and he was not long in joining her. After they were allowed out onto the street, Anna set a brisk pace, almost daring the lieutenant to keep up with her. When they reached a certain section of town, a row of seedy bars and other places with adult entertainment, Anna stopped.

"We must walk quickly through this part. No stopping," she warned. He agreed and they moved fairly fast past a few bums and people standing in the open doorways of establishments, sending a cacophonous hodgepodge of music into the street.

When there were only a few more doors left to pass, Anna was brought up short by a laughing couple leaving a bar, the man's arm slung around the girl's shoulder. But it was not their presence that stopped her as much as who they were. Luise Waldung, Maria's sister-in-law, and a person Anna thought she would never see again in her lifetime. Fritz Wingendorff, the man she had almost married in the year ‘40.

*Quonset hut -- A lightweight prefabricated structure of corrugated steel that could be shipped anywhere and assembled without skilled labor. Based on the Nissen hut developed by the British during World War I and used widely in WWII.
**MP -- Military police.
*** Stalingrad, now Wolgograd -- city in Russia, known for the disastrous defeat of the 6th German Army in 1943.

Chapter Three

Posted on Sunday, 22 July 2007

Anna's first impulse was flight. She did not want Fritz to see her like this -- a shadow of her former self. Then she realized how ridiculous the notion was. Her running away would draw their attention to her as sure as anything. If she stayed, quietly, where she was, there was a chance they would not see her, or at least not know her.

There was no such luck, though. First, Lt Morrow put his arm around her shoulder and asked her what the matter was. Then Luise turned her head into her direction and immediately recognized her.

"Anna!" she cried and, with a laugh, came up to her. Anna suspected Luise had had a drink too many -- though she was a merry person as a rule, there was something almost reckless about her that evening. However, Anna thought wistfully, that might also have something to do with Luise's companion. She had herself spent many an evening with Fritz Wingendorff, and had many fond memories of these occasions. But that had been a century ago, or so it felt, sometimes.

"Anna von Eltow! What a surprise!" Luise eyed Lt Morrow curiously and giggled. "Where are you going?" she asked.

"Home," Anna said curtly, wishing Luise would go away and leave her alone. But the damage was done -- Fritz had realized who she was. Anna noticed his eyes on her, and even though she was no mind reader she could clearly imagine what he must be thinking. He had found her outside a disreputable tavern late at night, in the arms of an American soldier. The picture was complete. There was a look of utter disbelief in his eyes, as well as a contemptuous glitter. He despised her, as much was obvious. Anna did not blame him.

"What, already?" Luise laughed. "The night is young!"

"I'm on my way home from work," Anna said with what dignity she could muster, hoping against hope that Luise -- and, more important, Fritz -- would believe her.

"I had no idea you worked such late hours," Luise said. "How dreadful! On the other hand you'll be able to sleep late tomorrow. Why don't the two of you join us for a drink or two?" She gave Lt Morrow a brilliant smile. "I'm Luise Waldung," she said, in English, and extended her hand.

"Hello, Miss Waldung," Lt Morrow said, and shook her hand. "I'm Lt Morrow."

"This is Friedrich Wingendorff," Luise said and signed to her companion to come closer. "Meet Lt Morrow," she said. Fritz smiled at the American officer and greeted him affably enough.

"And Anna von Eltow, my brother's...." Luise broke off and turned to Anna with a frown. "What's schwägerin in English?" she wanted to know.

"Sister-in-law," Anna said. "My sister is married to Luise's brother."

"Pleased to meet you," Fritz said. He did not seem inclined to let on that they had met before -- for which Anna was immensely grateful. The ensuing explanations would have been too painful. This encounter was bad enough as it was.

"So, what do you say to going for a drink with us?" Luise demanded, in German.

"I'm sorry, Luise, but I can't," Anna replied. "I'm tired, and the only thing I'm looking forward to tonight is my bed."

"What about you?" Luise asked Lt Morrow. "Drink?"

Lt Morrow smiled and shook his head. "Sorry," he said. "Another time perhaps."

"I don't want to go home yet, Fritz," Luise said, looking up at her companion with an adoring gaze. Anna noticed he did not return the look. She could feel his eyes on her, instead, and she shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another.

"I think you have had enough, Luise," he said, still staring at Anna. "Your family might be worried about the lateness, and I would not have you go against their wishes for the world."

Did Anna detect a hint of sarcasm in his voice?

"You are right, Fritz. You are always right. But you must come see us soon, Anna. Maria could use your help with young Karl and Walther, and we always enjoy your company. Anna is very useful," Luise said in German.

"A regular martyr to her family, I am sure," Fritz agreed and this time, Anna flushed, his obvious sarcasm not wasted on her.

Luise tugged on his arm and propelled him off toward a flashy Mercedes 170 V. Anna and Lt Morrow watched them drive off with a loud squeal of tires.

"Nice folks," the lieutenant said in an uncomplimentary tone.

"She is young," Anna replied, feeling a need to excuse Maria's sister-in-law.

"He is not. Cradle robber," she heard him add under his breath. It was not an expression she had heard before, but she understood what it meant, and could not help but agree. Luise had just turned nineteen, and Fritz was thirty-six, almost double her age. What was he thinking? Surely there were women of a more suitable age around?

Evidently Luise had spread the news of meeting Anna in front of a bar, accompanied by an American officer, and it did not take Walther long to arrange for Anna to take three weeks' leave from her job. Even though Anna had protested that they needed her pay, he packed her off to Mannheim, claiming to both the base and to Anna that Maria had greater need of her time. It was hoped that her American would forget her, but Anna only agreed after three-year-old Karl, who had a curvature of the spine, begged her on the telephone to please come. Not until she got off the train in Mannheim did she realize Luise being with Fritz Wingendorff was no accident or chance meeting.

"His sister and brother-in-law, who was an admiral in the Kriegsmarine*, have rented a home near the Waldungs and he is staying with them." Maria informed her sister of this after Anna was installed in the apartment over the Waldung butcher shop, where Karl and his family lived. She had found Maria lying on the sofa, the radio playing Billie Holiday's "The Man I Love" (but how ironic, Anna thought), and the boys being quiet in their bedroom. "He struck up a conversation with Karl at the shop and discovered we are from Königsberg. Did you know he used to visit that area during the war? I vaguely recall the name..." Maria rattled on about the Kraffts, their brother and the Waldungs, and Anna prayed her sister would not recall exactly why she should remember his name.

Once she had settled in, the boys, who were twins, came out asking for food and Maria said she would not mind a drink if Anna would make it for her. Anna, upon rummaging about in the kitchen, had not missed the fact that the liquor cabinet was better stocked than the refrigerator. It was a disquieting thought.

"You had probably better do the marketing while you are here," her sister said languidly, making a face at the cup of tea brewed for her. Anna went back into the kitchen, but a stray movement caught by the corner of her eye, and the clink of a bottle on a cup made her wonder if Maria was making ‘peppermint' tea with a bottle of schnapps.

"I feel so ill today," Maria called when she had returned to her place on the sofa. "Take the boys with you to the market."

Anna gave young Karl a sympathetic smile, knowing he might have a difficult time of it if they were gone long. They would only buy what they needed, then, to make it a shorter excursion. A longer trip would have to wait until Maria was well enough to keep an eye on her sons.

Anna made a short list on the back of a vodka label with a pencil stub she found in a drawer, tied a scarf under her chin and grabbed a basket.

"Shall we get this over with?" she asked her nephews.

They went downstairs first, to say hello to the elder Karl and order some meat for their meal. Despite rationing elsewhere, at least no one in the Waldung family was going hungry.

"Sausages!" the boys requested and their father indulgently said he would wrap them up and have them ready when they returned. He also gave Anna some money.

"I know you would not have received any upstairs," he said grimly. "These will be accepted, fortunately." He handed her a fistful of coins.

They went to the greengrocer and bought an onion and some apples, and the baker called the boys by name and gave them pastries while Anna purchased bread. Another store yielded a bottle of milk and a bit of cheese to toast for breakfast.

By time they returned to the butcher shop, young Karl was in pain; Anna could tell by the lines etched around his eyes and lips, although he did not complain. When they saw Henriette Waldung, Luise and Karl's younger sister, in the shop, she sent Walther to help his brother up the stairs as much as he was able.

"Luise, it seems, has made a conquest of Friedrich Wingendorff," Henriette bubbled once the boys were gone. "We are to have him to dinner tonight!"

"We are all invited!" Karl added expansively, handing Anna her packet of sausages.

"Tonight?" her hand refused to flex and the brown paper-wrapped meat dropped to the floor. "Oh, dear, how clumsy of me!" She bent to retrieve the parcel just as a wail was heard from upstairs.

"That sounds like Maria!" Henriette exclaimed. "I'll see you tonight," she quickly told Anna and her brother, and all but ran from the shop.

Anna picked up the sausages and said she would discover what was happening. When she got there, Maria was crying over young Karl, who was lying on the sofa.

"What did you do to my son?" she demanded of Anna. Her breath was heavy with schnapps. Anna didn't dare light a match.

"We went to the market and came home," was her calm reply. "You told me to take him. Are you all right, schatz**?" she asked her nephew while Maria insisted she had not said those exact words.

"I'm all right, Tante Anna, just tired."

"We are invited to dinner with the family tonight," Karl senior said, coming in the apartment door.

"But I can't!" Maria wailed. "I have to stay! It is always my luck that if anything agreeable is to happen, Karl may attend but I have to remain at home! I tell you, I am not equal to it! And I do so wish to meet Friedrich Wingendorff!"

"There will be other opportunities," Karl said, giving his wife an unsympathetic glance.

"I will stay home with the boys," Anna offered, not at all eager to be confronted once more by Fritz and his sarcasm. Or Luise and her sly innuendos.

"Why, you could stay, couldn't you?" Maria asked, as if the thought was the most ingenious thing she had ever heard. "You do not have my sensitive feelings, after all."

"I suppose that I don't," Anna agreed, effectively shutting Maria up and getting out of the dinner at the same time.

"Are you sure you want to stay at home babysitting, Anna?" Karl asked. "You're our guest, not our servant, no matter what some people may think..." He gave his wife a reproachful look. "...so please don't feel obliged to stay."

"I am quite certain," Anna assured him. "I'll enjoy having an evening almost to myself for a change. I've got the radio, and a book, and a whole bathroom to myself. I'll be perfectly happy."

Maria, realizing that she had shown herself in a very bad light, added, "I knew you would not mind being left alone! Not after being cooped up with dozens of people in that flat in Heidelberg, certainly. It will be such a treat for you! -- If anything happens, you know you can send for us; you can give us a ring and we'll be back in a jiffy. Not that I think anything serious will happen -- you know I couldn't enjoy myself if I had any fears on that score. I know Karl will be in the best hands with his favorite aunt."

The elder Karl winked at Anna and said dryly, "You're quite right, love. It'll be a treat for Anna."

"Besides, if I'm any judge, Anna hasn't got a proper stitch to wear," Maria added as a clincher to her argumentation.

"You mean she couldn't borrow one of your dresses?" Karl asked.

"Borrow one of my - ? If that isn't men all over! Take a look at her -- does she look as if she could wear one of my dresses? It'd fall off before she'd have left the house; there's nothing to hold it up for her."

"I see no fault with Anna's figure," Karl said. "Plenty of stuff to keep her dress where it's supposed to be."

"Why not start a harem while she's here?" Maria snapped. She did not seriously consider Anna a rival, but praise to anyone but herself set her off in a fit of jealousy. Her sister was no exception.

"Thank you, love, but one wife is quite enough for me," Karl said. "I'll have to go back to the shop now, and no doubt you'll want to get ready for that dinner at my parents'. Thank you for babysitting, Anna. I'm in your debt."

Anna disclaimed once again -- she did not mind staying at home; she would be very comfortable, and she hoped Karl and Maria would have a pleasant evening. She then picked up little Karl, who had witnessed the entire scene, carried him to bed and read a story to him to calm him down. She liked her brother-in-law, but why he and Maria should start bickering in front of their children was something she would never be able to understand.

*German Navy during World War II

** "schatz" -- literally "treasure" -- an endearment.

Chapter Four

Posted on Friday, 3 August 2007

Things were very peaceful by the time Maria and Karl had left. Anna was left to herself, and after having checked on her two nephews -- who were fast asleep -- she drew herself a bath. It was a luxury she could only rarely indulge in -- with six grown people living in their flat, there was neither the time nor enough warm water for all of them. The fact alone that they had a bathroom in their flat was a privilege. Still, Anna usually washed herself very quickly, and made sure she got out of the bathroom before any of the others wanted to get in. She succeeded, most of the time. Elsa hardly ever considered the others, though, which was why she usually occupied the bath in the evening. She hated being "rushed".

This was heavenly, Anna thought as she settled down in a tub full of warm, scented water. It was strange how one never appreciated things until they were gone. As a child, she would have been only too happy if her nurse had forgotten about that daily bath, and now she wished she could have one every day again.

Anna missed her home, Gut Kaehlau, the fields and woodland surrounding it. The lake where she and her sisters -- and probably every child in Kaehlau village - had gone swimming every summer. The sea, which had only been a couple of miles away, so one could see it from the top of the tower of Kaehlau church. Her mother, who had been laid to rest in the graveyard next to that very church. All those people who had worked for her father, and who had always had a smile and a kind word for Fräulein Anna whenever they had seen her. The orchard where they had picked apples every autumn, baking them in the nursery fire later in the evening -- they had tasted so sweet, too. Anna was sure there would never be any apples as sweet as those.

She sighed. If she went on in that manner, she would start thinking like her father -- that they would return one day, when she knew that they wouldn't. Not ever. Kaehlau was history, a memory, nothing more. She had to look into the future, no matter how bleak it seemed. It couldn't be any worse than what she had been through on her way here, in January 1945 when everything had changed.

Until then she had been the privileged daughter of a gentleman. Not overindulged, certainly, but she'd had everything she had ever wanted. She had been someone, a daughter of the Great House, someone who was respected in the village. When her mother had died and Elsa had taken over the household, people had still often turned to Anna for directions, and Anna had done whatever she could to keep the household running, young though she was. Elsa, although nominally in charge of everything, had never shown much interest in what was going on, as long as she could go on regular shopping trips to Berlin and rig herself out in the latest style.

Then the War had started, and even though people in their area noticed very little about it at first, things had begun to change. Young men of their acquaintance were enlisted in the army, and often enough their families received telegrams soon afterwards, notifying them that Herr N.N. had died the hero's death for Führer and Country, and that surely this was something to be proud of. Only no one ever was. Anna had witnessed hatred in the eyes of their mothers, and anger in their fathers' eyes, and pain -- heartrending pain -- but no pride. As the number of fatalities among her acquaintance increased, Anna began to wonder how the cause could possibly be worth this. Surely, Germany was winning on every front, but for what purpose?

She had no one to share her doubts with. Her father would have been horrified if she had mentioned these thoughts to him; he would have called her a traitor. How could any daughter of his not play along with the rules? Especially Anna, the good girl, the one he had entered into the local BDM* squad in 1933 along with her sisters, as soon as he had found out who'd won the elections (and a brilliant stroke of genius he had thought that had been -- to show his allegiance by signing up his daughters for girl scouts)!

How could anyone possibly think that the Führer could be wrong? Wasn't Germany strong? Weren't they victorious? There was nothing anyone could do to stop the Germans -- nothing but the enemy within, backstabbers like Anna who attacked the German soldiers from behind. Yes, people would have to make sacrifices, but who'd complain as long as it was for the Greater Good of the People?

Of course Anna's father was not the only one who said so. This kind of talk was everywhere, especially when people expected to be overheard. There were whisperings that sounded slightly different, of course, but they faded by the day -- especially when it became known that many whisperers went missing. It was no wonder then that Anna turned even more quiet than she had been before, that she kept her rebellious thoughts to herself, and that she went about her duties in and about Gut Kaehlau in her calm, unassuming way instead. Perhaps if she did what was expected of her, if she ignored the world around her, if she was careful not to betray her thoughts, she would get through the war unscathed.

Then she had met him. Kapitänleutnant Friedrich Wingendorff, a native of Lübeck, but in the spring of 1940 he was staying with his brother Eduard in Königsberg. He had been a war hero -- had been wounded when saving two sailors' lives during the campaign in Norway. There had even been a report about his deed of heroism on the "Wochenschau"**, and he had then been sent off to recuperate with his family. His parents both being dead, he had chosen to go to Königsberg, where his brother was stationed as a military padre.

The girls had all been mad about him, Anna remembered with a smile. Naturally -- he was good-looking, and lively -- bordering on the audacious, actually -- and there was the additional charm of his Navy uniform and the fame attached to his person. He was energetic, and determined, and quite swept Anna off her feet.

She had never been able to understand why he had singled her out; why he had asked her, of all those girls present, to dance on that May evening in 1940.

"Why me?" she had asked him laughingly as they had waltzed across the dance floor.

He had merely grinned at her and asked, "Why not you?"

Unable to think of an intelligent retort, Anna had merely smiled.

He had smiled back, and had said, "Can you blame me for wanting to get to know you? Not with that smile you can't."

At first, Anna had merely thought him an accomplished flirt. He had flattered her, in a joking way that had made her laugh. But in the course of that first evening, she had got to know a more serious side of his character -- a side she had liked very much. He had told her some more about himself, about his family and his upbringing. His father had been a government official in Lübeck, of a genteel but impoverished family. He had an engineering degree, but had been obliged to earn the money for his studies by working in the dockyards of his hometown during his vacations. When he had finished his studies, he had enrolled in the Navy -- feeling that he would be called upon to do his civic duty he had decided to follow his own inclination as far as possible. His brother-in-law had been a Captain in the Navy already, and had assisted him in his advancement.

The fuss everyone had made about his person, after his appearance in the "Wochenschau", had sometimes embarrassed him. He had not considered himself a hero at all -- he had said he would have been the first to admit that his conduct had been foolhardy, and that he had expected to be court-martialled rather than celebrated and promoted.

"I guess it is the kind of story people like to hear," he'd said. "Which is why I was pardoned for the moment, but I daresay they'll keep a close watch on me in the future."

"Why? What was wrong about saving those two men?"

"Nothing, except that I counteracted some orders to do so," he had laughed. "A foolish thing to do, you will agree, especially since I might have been killed along with those two. But before you cast me for the role of public hero I must tell you that I didn't think of any danger until afterwards, when I was being yelled at by the Captain. It was he who pointed out what might have happened. And then he told me there'd be consequences. You should have seen his face when he found out what the consequences were."

Anna had laughed along with him, and when they had parted that first evening she had been halfway in love with him already. They had danced the last dance -- a slow waltz -- together, and he had asked her whether he would see her again. She had told him she hoped he would -- but had been too shy to make an assignation. It had seemed rather impossible to her that he should be seriously interested.

But Fritz Wingendorff had not been deterred. He and his brother had turned up at the lake the next day -- having found out that Anna had planned to picnic there with some friends -- and had naturally been invited to join their party. When he'd left her that evening, they'd had a date -- he'd asked her to go to the movies with him, and Anna had been only too happy to accept.

He had borrowed a car for the occasion -- no mean feat in those days, when petrol was rationed and the Army confiscated most of the private cars for military purposes -- and had driven her to Königsberg to see Heinz Rühmann*** in "Bachelors' Paradise". They had shared their first kiss that night -- and that memory alone made Anna's heart beat faster. From that evening on, they had been almost inseparable. They'd fallen in love with each other, deeply, irrevocably; they had begun to confide in each other, and share thoughts that they would not have dared to share with anyone else.

When Fritz had received his orders to board the Torpedoboot he was to command within two weeks, he'd asked Anna to marry him, and she had accepted. She had not worried about the shortness of their acquaintance. There was a war going on, and many couples married quickly -- one might not get another chance if one waited, and besides why should anyone wait if one was as certain of each other's love as they were?

Fritz had been very optimistic -- true, he was not rich, but his pay would enable him to support a wife, and she could go and stay with his sister in Kiel until he returned -- or in Kaehlau, if she preferred that. Once the war was over he would come back, and get an engineering job in the shipbuilding industry -- those jobs were highly paid, he'd said, and they would be able to afford everything of the best. Anna had loved to listen to those plans of his, and had believed every word he had said.

Things could have been perfect, had it not been for Anna's family. They had not been in favour of the match, and had not kept their opinions to themselves.

The light suddenly flickered and went out. Another blackout, nothing new. Still Anna shuddered -- the water had gone cold, and so she quickly washed and got out of the tub. In the dark, she groped for a towel to dry herself off, and put on her bathrobe. Then she went into the kitchen, where she knew she would find some matches, and lit one of the candles Maria kept in the broom cupboard for emergencies. She took the candle back to the bathroom with her, and while she braided her hair she subjected her reflection in the mirror to a critical inspection. She was ugly, she thought. Her looks had been quite passable once, but even now in the flattering candlelight Anna could find nothing about her that a man could find remotely attractive. He would probably think he was well rid of her, she thought bitterly. Why should he waste a thought on a woman who'd grown old and haggish before her time, if he could have someone like Luise Waldung? Why should anyone?

Considering the hopes she'd had for this evening, Anna thought as she once again looked in on her nephews before turning in, it had been rather bleak. She blamed Fritz for it. Of all the places he could have gone, why had he chosen Mannheim, and why had he struck up a friendship with her brother-in-law's family? God had a pretty wicked sense of humour, Anna thought.

* BDM -- "Bund Deutscher Mädel" ("German Girls' Association") -- National Socialist girls' association, with the aim of indoctrinating young girls with Nazi ideology. It was basically expected of girls to join up, just as much as it was expected of boys to join the HJ ("Hitlerjugend"). Still, some people were less eager to sign up their children than others.

** Wochenschau: "Newsreel" shown at the beginning of every screening at a cinema -- Propaganda material, most of it, certainly not the entire truth.

*** Heinz Rühmann was the most popular German comedian in the 1930s and 1940s. He disappeared from the movie screen for a while after the War, only to return as a brilliant character actor in the 1950s, and continued to be successful until his death in 1994. He is considered one of the greatest German movie actors of all times.

Chapter Five

Posted on Monday, 3 September 2007

Anna's avoidance of Fritz Wingendorff was to be merely temporary. The next day, she got a call down in the shop from Karl's family. Fritz was to come to dinner once more, and bring his sister and her husband, the admiral, with him. Frau Waldung, having summoned Anna to the phone, insisted that her Karlchen would be up to visiting his grandmother if he were kept quiet and still all day. Anna was fond of the elder Waldungs and agreed that young Karl and Walther would be well-rested and able to accompany them.

"I don't like to speak badly of Maria," Frau Waldung said, although that did not seem to stop her from confiding in Maria's sister. "But she lets those boys run wild. I love my grandsons dearly, but what is she doing all day? When they visit us, oh, the stories they tell! Surely you could talk some sense into her, Anna. We all know how sensible you are."

Thanks, Anna thought dryly.

"Anyway, Karl wants to speak to you."

Anna began to protest, but Herr Waldung was already projecting his booming voice into the receiver.

"You missed a good dinner last night, Ännchen!" He always spoke to Anna as if she were the same age as her nephews. "Brilliant fellow, this Wingendorff. Says he met you once in Königsberg! I imagine, with the war and all, you might not remember..."

Anna was not given a chance to reply.

"You might want to speak to that sister of yours. Drinks like a fish!"

Anna blushed, catching her brother-in-law's eye from across the shop. Could everyone hear?

"Let me talk to her, Vater!" Henriette sounded as if she had shoved her father aside to speak to Anna. "I didn't get much of a chance to speak to you yesterday," she said apologetically into the phone.

Anna stifled a sigh.

"You must come tonight -- we are so looking forward to meeting Fritz's family! An admiral, only think! But Anna," she added, and more softly, "You must tell Maria not to monopolize the conversation. Poor Mutter, trying to get a word in edgewise last night. It was disrespectful! I know you and your sister were raised with better manners!"

"My turn!" Luise sang. "Really, Anna, you must come! Too bad you could not invite that handsome American you had with you the other evening... We always seem to have a lack of eligible men at the table! I don't even care that he's American." She laughed merrily. "You obviously don't."

"You have an American boyfriend?" Herr Waldung boomed. "Ännchen! You never said a word! It took Luise to tell us!"

"I say, good for you!" Henriette was on the phone once more. "Keep him by all means!"

"What about Heinrich Hayter?" Anna queried. Henriette and her boyfriend had been on again and off again for a couple of years.

Henriette giggled. "What about him? We're off again, and if Luise thinks she can keep Fritz all to herself, she has another thing coming!"

"He is a very good catch," Frau Waldung interjected. "Made Kapitänleutnant, even if he did spend the last months of the war in a prison camp. Can you imagine? The poor man! Well, at least the Russians didn't get him. The English were quite decent to him, I've been told."

Anna blanched. She had no idea Fritz had been a prisoner of war.

"We won't keep you any longer," Frau Waldung said. "Just be sure to bring the boys tonight. I will let them listen to the radio in the other room while we dine."

Anna smiled at what was perceived as a treat by her nephews' grandmother, despite the fact that Maria and Karl had a radio of their own -- which was on almost all day. She decided to take some of the boys' toys and picture books with her too, just in case they got bored. She knew Maria wouldn't think of that. She never did.

"The boys will like that," she said. "Though I daresay they will like your apple cake even more. Their Großmama's pastry has a very special place in their hearts from what they tell me."

"Oh, the poor dears! I'll see what I can do," Frau Waldung said. Though the Waldungs were pretty well off, even they found it difficult sometimes to obtain the ingredients for their dinners, fond though they were of company. "I could do some carrot cake, I suppose. They will like that as long as no one tells them there are carrots in that one. Or the potato one ..."

Anna laughed. "I will not tell them there are carrots or potatoes in the cake," she promised. "And your carrot cake is delicious, Frau Waldung."

"Then it is settled. You are coming along to dinner, and you will bring the boys. Karl will come over with his car and pick you up, so the boys won't have to walk."

"I am looking forward to it," Anna lied, and put the receiver back.

"So they did persuade you to come?" Karl asked her.

"Well, I don't think they would have heard it if I had said no," Anna said laughingly. "I'll go back upstairs now -- Maria isn't feeling quite the thing, and the boys need their lunch."

"So do I," Karl said, grinning.

"The boys includes you as well," Anna said. "I hope roast potatoes and a fried egg will suit you."

"Almost perfect," Karl said. "I love roast potatoes"

The door opened, and a customer came in. Anna made use of the opportunity to escape upstairs, if escape one could call it. Maria was upstairs, after all, and would no doubt complain about having been left alone for hours -- even if the phone call had not taken any longer than five minutes.

Anna caught herself trying on every single one of her dresses that evening before she decided what she would wear. Not that she had many to choose from -- there were two she considered "good" dresses -- such as would be suitable for a dinner party -- and they had been worn so many times already that "good" was a relative value. "Good" simply meant "better than the other two".

When Anna had bought the dress she finally put on, it had been poppy-red. In the meantime, it had faded, like its owner, Anna thought as she pinned up her hair. She had also had to alter it, to fit it to her figure -- Maria had been right, there was not enough of her left to keep a dress where it belonged. She had had quite a spectacular figure once, or so she had been told. Now it closely resembled a beanpole -- Anna was rather tall, and very thin.

"Herr Wingendorff was not very complimentary about you," Maria told her as Herr Waldung drove them to his family home in the outskirts of Mannheim. "He said you were so altered he hardly knew you when he met you the other day."

"Not a very gentlemanly thing to say," Herr Waldung agreed. "But he's an outspoken fellow. He doesn't mean to hurt anyone."

"No, I am sure he does not," Anna said quietly. "And he is right -- I have changed."

"We'll fatten you up a bit while you're here," Herr Waldung said. "Just wait and see, Ännchen. A holiday and plenty of food will do wonders."

Anna laughed. As if fattening was what she needed to solve all her problems.

Fritz and his sister and brother-in-law had already arrived before them. They had bought a house across the street from the Waldungs' old villa, and had walked over to their neighbors' house. Fritz greeted Anna politely, but without betraying any particular interest in meeting her. Admiral and Frau Krafft, however, were delighted to make her acquaintance.

"I am told it was you, and not your sister, whom my brother met in East Prussia during the war," she said. "Eduard was so full of praise -- so when I heard you were related to the Waldungs I simply had to meet you."

"I am sure I have done nothing to deserve his praise," Anna said, blushing and wondering how much Sophie Krafft knew about her and Fritz. Fritz's expression gave nothing away.
"How is your brother?"

"Oh, he is fine." Frau Krafft laughed. "Only just married, and he has recently taken over a parish in Travemünde. Which is almost home for us -- our family is from Lübeck, you know?"

"I do ...your brother told me, once." Luckily Anna did not have to say which of Frau Krafft's brothers had shared that particular piece of information with her. "I am glad to hear Herr Wingendorff is doing so well." Anna smiled; glad that she had found something they could talk about without touching the dangerous subject of her long-standing acquaintance with Fritz.

"This is my husband, Reinhard Krafft. He used to be an admiral during the war, but he is not in the navy any longer."

The former admiral shook hands with Anna, and said, laughingly, "And I'm feeling like a stranded whale sometimes, without the sea."

"As long as you do not look like one, I have no objection," Frau Krafft laughed.

No one could have looked less like a whale, Anna thought. The admiral was rather short and wiry, with dark hair that was going grey at the temples. His eyes were sharp and keen, though there was also a humorous twinkle in them. It was difficult to determine his age, though Anna guessed him to be in his early fifties, a good fifteen years older than his wife.

"If Frau Waldung keeps feeding us the way she does, I might, before long," he said, chuckling. "I have yet to meet a better cook -- apart from my Sophie, that is." He put his arm around his wife's waist and pulled her towards him. "I can't resist anything that comes out of her kitchen."

Anna smiled. "I will take your word for it, Admiral," she said.

"Oh, don't call me Admiral, for God's sake. I've no right to that rank any more," he said. "Besides it's so formal, and I don't like pretty girls to be on formal terms with me. I've been a sailor for too long to allow that." He grinned.

"You know, Herr Wingendorff," Frau Waldung said, turning to Fritz, "I did not realize it before, but you knew my son Richard."

Fritz gave her the blank stare that Anna knew so well -- the one he reserved for occasions when he did not wish people to guess his thoughts. "Did I?" he asked.

"Oh yes, he was on your ship once -- the Panther."

"I see -- I do remember now," Fritz said. "Able seaman Richard Waldung - of course. He is your son, ma'am? I had no idea. I am sorry I forgot about him, but he was not with us for more than six months."

"The poor boy," Frau Waldung said. "You seemed to be such a steadying influence on him -- he wrote home very often, and admired you a great deal I thought. Such a shame he should have been transferred -- I am sure he'd still be alive today if he had not."

Anna noticed the glance that passed between Fritz and the admiral, before Fritz said, "Quite so, ma'am. It seems a shame. -- I had no idea he died, though. My condolences, ma'am -- it must have been a great loss to anyone who knew him."

It was nothing but a polite phrase, Anna realized, but Fritz had said it out of respect for the feelings of a doting mother who had lost her son, and spent the following minutes talking to her about the Richard Waldung whom, Anna thought, he had probably been at pains to get rid of. Finally, Frau Waldung rose, feeling refreshed by Fritz' sympathy, and invited them into the dining room to partake of dinner.