Letter from a Stranger (38 page)

She nodded. He invaded Poland because he wants to get rid of the Slavic race. And also because he wants to extend the
Lebensraum
to the east. According to Prince Kurt, Hitler wants their land.

The ringing phone made me jump. I stared at it. The princess picked it up.
Ja, ja,
she said in German, and listened intently. Seconds later, in English, she said, I am here alone with Gabriele. When she had replaced the receiver, she looked at me. That was Prince Kurt. He is back in Berlin. Princess Arabella and the children have stayed in Switzerland. I nodded. He has found a house for them. The princess added, Well, it was in the cards. Perhaps the prince might want to eat. Do we have any food? she asked. A chicken Hedy made this morning, I said. Lettuce. Four potatoes. I won’t ask them if they are hungry, the princess said.

I stared at her.
They?
Is someone coming with Prince Kurt? She inclined her head. Two other men. We have to confer. The four of us. Make plans.

When the doorbell rang Irina went to open it. The prince came into the library, followed by two men in uniform. One was the nice colonel. Hans Oster. I did not know who the other one was. After Prince Kurt had greeted me affectionately, Colonel Oster came and shook my hand. Politely, like I was a grown woman. He then introduced the other man. It was Admiral Wilhelm Canaris of the Abwehr, the head of German Military Intelligence. A powerful man. Known as a savior and a saint to many. He had obtained the visa for Anita.

The admiral smiled at me in a pleasant way. He had a kind face, soft eyes, and was of medium height. He wears his enormous power with great humility, Princess Irina had once told me. I knew he was a good man. I decided I must leave them alone. I excused myself, left the room. Irina followed me. They will only have a drink, she said. Why don’t you eat something, Gabri?

I shook my head. I went upstairs carrying my glass of lemon tea. I sat down in the chair near the radio. It was mine. Arabella had given it to me for my birthday in June. I didn’t turn it on. I was thinking about Gretchen. She had been to see us this morning. She came once a month. To keep Irina informed about her health. She was five months pregnant after her encounter with the soldier at the Schloss. I was the one who had been lucky. I had not become pregnant, much to my relief.

Gretchen was a changed person. Apprehensive. Nervous. Diminished, somehow. The experience had frightened her. I felt sorry for her. She did not stay long. Irina gave her an envelope when she left. It was money from Arabella. A kind gesture from a good woman. Arabella felt a sense of responsibility. The assault had happened at her home. Gretchen was lucky in one thing. Her sisters lived in Berlin. In a street just behind the Tiergartenstrasse. They were willing to look after her. She was well taken care of, she had said.

For half an hour I listened to the BBC. I felt closer to Aunt Beryl when I did. We spoke occasionally. But sometimes the telephone lines were bad. Full of static. She was still waiting for me to come to London. I glanced at the door as it opened. Irina stood there. Her face was ashen. What is it? I asked. I was frightened. She looked deathly ill.

Princess Irina sat down in the other chair without saying a word. What is it? I asked again. After a moment she said, Oh Gabri, my friends are doomed. As I thought they would be. Hitler plans massive executions. Of the nobility, the aristocracy, the clergy, Catholic priests, political dissidents, Jews, and the Polish intelligentsia. They are all going to be exterminated. It will be wholesale slaughter. A bloodbath.

I gasped. But that’s not possible, I said. He can’t kill a whole country.

She stared at me unflinchingly. Look what he’s doing to the Jews in Germany, she said.

I was silent. I thought of my family and trembled inside. I was more afraid than ever for them.

Irina said, The invasion has been brutal. Unspeakable atrocities will now be committed. How do you know this? I asked. Canaris told us. He is sickened by this invasion, by what he has found out, and what he knows will inevitably happen. My Polish friends will die. She began to weep.

I went and knelt at her feet, took her hands in mine. They were as cold as ice. I didn’t know how to comfort her. I said, Maybe it won’t be that bad. It’s not possible to murder an entire nation. When she was silent, I asked softly, Is it?

Princess Irina Troubetzkoy lifted her head and stared deeply into my eyes. If you are the Führer, yes, it is possible. Do you know what C said to me? I shook my head. Before he left he said, Read
Mein Kampf
and believe it. Hitler has to be removed, she finished, her voice a whisper. He must be assassinated. If he is not he will destroy Germany.

These words terrified me. They had been here to plot tonight, those three men. With Irina. I was convinced of that. And I was afraid for her. I did not want anything to happen to my lovely Russian princess.

BERLIN

SEPTEMBER 3, 1939

On Sunday, two days later, Irina was a much happier person. And so was I. Once again we were glued to the radio in the library. We were listening to the nine o’clock evening news on the BBC, coming from London. At eleven o’clock that morning Britain had declared war on Nazi Germany. Six hours later the French government did the same thing. She had a smile on her face when she said, They will win the war. You’ll see the British will defeat Hitler. She believed more than ever that the Third Reich would tumble. And so did I. This belief gave us hope. And it kept us going through the bad years yet to come.

THE MARK BRANDENBURG

MARCH 6, 1940

We went back to the Schloss because Prince Kurt had asked Irina to check on the castle for him. Princess Arabella had returned to Switzerland with Christian and Diana. The prince traveled all the time as the envoy for Krupp. When he was in Germany he lived at his house in Berlin.

Irina told him we would go for a week or two. Not much longer. She wished to oblige Prince Kurt. She also decided we needed a change. There was an air of gloom and despair in Berlin. The streets were crammed full of Gestapo, SS, and Wehrmacht soldiers. Thugs were everywhere. The food shortages were getting worse. Many other necessities were gone. The Herr Baron and the Princess Natalie had returned to the house on the Lützowufer. The baron was planning to turn the wine and storage cellars into an air-raid shelter. He believed the British would soon bomb Berlin.

Before we left Berlin, Princess Irina phoned Gretchen. She told her the monthly visit had to be canceled. On impulse she asked Gretchen if she wanted to visit us. For a day or two. She accepted. We were both surprised. Gretchen told Irina she would come on March the eighth. It was a Friday. And that she would bring the baby. Gretchen had given birth at the end of December. The child was a few weeks premature. It was a boy. She called him Andreas.

Irina and I were alone at the Schloss except for Lotte, the cook. The two maids, Trudi and Giselle, had both left. They had gone to do war work in Berlin. Klaus, the gardener, and Stefan, the caretaker, were still working here. And their presence made us feel safer. The two men patrolled the estate twice daily. And by now the fence encircled the forests on their outer rim.

Immediately when we arrived Irina reorganized the Schloss. She closed off most rooms downstairs. Covered the furniture with dust sheets. She kept open the library, the small study, and the parlor. All the bedrooms were covered with sheets, and closed. Except for her room and mine. This lightened Lotte’s work. She had been cleaning since the two maids had left. Irina also hired Marta, the wife of the caretaker. She came daily to help out with the cleaning. I pitched in with the cooking. I wanted Lotte to teach me some of her specialties. We were busy for the first few days. Then Gretchen arrived. The baby was adorable. He had fat pink cheeks, blue eyes, and tufts of blond hair. He smiled, gurgled, and kicked his legs in the air. Lotte fell in love with him. We all did.

The kitchen was the warmest room in the house. We assembled there for most of the day. We had meals there as well.

There was no doubt in my mind that Gretchen loved little Andreas. Despite the circumstances of his conception. Yet she was odd in her behavior. I said this to Irina. The princess decided Gretchen was distracted, worried. Irina and I called the baby our “little dumpling.” We picked him up. Walked around with him. Nursed him. Cuddled him. Played with him. Brought fluffy toys for him. A lamb and a teddy bear found in Diana’s room. We gave him his bottle. We took him outside in his pushchair. For three days Andreas was the center of our lives at the Schloss. On the fourth day Gretchen disappeared. And so did Andreas.

We were used to small meals in Berlin. Lunch was a treat. Lentil soup, bread, and some of Lotte’s precious bottled fruit. Later, Irina went to work in the study. I stayed in the kitchen. Lotte was going to show me how to bake, make apple strudel. Gretchen took Andreas upstairs. For his afternoon nap. We never saw them again.

Gretchen did not bring the baby down for his bottle later that afternoon. I went up to her room. She was not there. Neither was the baby. But her suitcase was. And the baby’s things. I was puzzled. I looked for her all over the Schloss. I told Irina. Then Lotte and Marta. We began to search for them. Stefan and Klaus covered the estate. The gardens. The forests. The snow had melted. It was still cold outdoors. There was no sign of them. I went back to the Schloss. Checked Gretchen’s room again. Her topcoat was gone. And so was the baby’s coat, wool cap, and shawl. But where were they?

Irina was concerned. She phoned the doctor in the village. He had looked after Gretchen when she was raped. That was my idea. I said, Maybe she took the baby to see the doctor. She had not. Irina telephoned Gretchen’s sisters in Berlin. She was not there. Neither had they heard from her. Reluctantly Irina finally phoned the village police. There was only one officer now. All the others had joined the army. Officer Schmidt came to the Schloss. Listened to our tale. He searched the Schloss. The estate. Klaus and Stefan went with him. By now they were armed with flashlights. It was growing dark outside. And colder.

Gretchen and the baby vanished. In the blink of an eye. Gone. Just like that. None of us could imagine what had happened. It seemed she had simply walked out. And disappeared. Into oblivion. Her sisters came the next day. They searched every inch of the Schloss. From the attics to the cellars. Went to the doctor in the village. Spoke to the police officer. Went from house to house. Asking if anyone had seen a woman with a baby. Nobody had. So they said.

Irina and I fretted about Gretchen’s disappearance. For weeks. For months. For years. It was a mystery. One we never solved. We had many theories. And no way of knowing if any were true. And we mourned them and wept about Andreas.

My God, what a strange story, Justine thought, as she closed her grandmother’s book. What on earth could have happened to them? She was still frowning as she went into the bathroom to take a shower, consumed by this troubling story.

Forty-three

After her shower, Justine dressed and went for a walk in the garden. Her grandmother did this every morning, and she understood why. There was such beauty out here … the flame-colored Judas trees, the lilac-blue wisteria, and the masses of tulips. The latter were magnificent. Incomparable.

As she stood staring at them, taking in their brilliance, she suddenly realized how much back-breaking work had gone into their planting and care over the years. Gran had told her how hard she and Uncle Trent had worked, especially when they had first started growing the tulips. “It was a labor of love,” Gabriele had said to her the other day. “Trent had the same thirst for natural beauty as I did, and this garden became his real passion. And it was satisfying for me to see such beauty come into being. It was an antidote to all the ugliness I’d seen in my life.”

Ugliness, brutality, hardship, deprivation. All those things had dominated her grandmother’s life when she was a teenager. No wonder her work as a designer was so important to her, as well as gardening. Gabriele created beautiful fabrics, lovely rooms, exquisite paintings. These were the things that nourished her, counteracted all that darkness and suffering of long ago.

Justine sat down on the garden seat and stared at the Bosphorus and Central Istanbul on the other side. It was a beautiful May day. The sky was a crystal clear blue. The sun was up, bathing everything in its golden light. What a fabulous day.

For a moment Justine wanted to get up and go into Istanbul, stroll through the shops and boutiques. She had the urge to seek out meaningful presents for Gran and Anita and Michael. And Richard, Daisy, Simon, and Joanne. She had the need to do something to show them how much she loved them, cared about them. They were her family. Her treasured family. There was nothing better than that.

I’ll do it, she said to herself, jumped up and went back into the
yali,
intent on changing and going into the city.

Ayce came hurrying out of the kitchen and smiled when she saw Justine. “Your grandmother on phone,” she said, beckoning her to follow.

As she did so Justine realized she had left her cell upstairs on the bedside table. Picking up the receiver of the landline on the countertop, she said, “Hello, Gran darling!”

“Good morning, Justine,” Gabriele said. “I hope I’m not calling too early.”

“No, of course not. I’ve been up for a while, walking in the garden. The tulips are gorgeous.”

“They look their best at this hour,” Gabriele murmured.

“Gran, there’s something I want to say. I … I love you so much, more than I can ever convey. I’m glad you gave me the leather book to read
now,
didn’t leave it in your will. Because I am able to tell you how much I admire you, how proud I am to be your granddaughter. To be part of you.… I think you’re heroic—” She stopped abruptly. Her voice was shaking; she blinked back the tears.