All the years her family had patronised the hotel, all the money they’d spent, and yet tonight they were invisible, shuttled into a corner, until André came down to the lobby and rescued them.
Liese had blushed when she saw his frown. Paul had greeted him with overdone delight and swept ahead of André into the restaurant as if he was still king of it. He had behaved in his usual exuberant fashion, dispensing waves and blowing kisses and moving too quickly to see how they were taken. The maître d’, who had run the restaurant since Liese had needed a high chair, waved them to a table tucked into the shadows. Paul thanked him effusively for respecting their privacy. He laughed away the long wait between courses and pronounced the empty bread basket a good thing for his waistline. Liese couldn’t tell whether his performance was brave or deluded. From his increasingly fixed smile, neither, it seemed, could André.
‘Perhaps we should order coffee, balance out the wine?’
Otto motioned to another waiter too busy to notice.
‘Let me arrange it. They seem rather stretched.’
André rose with a bow for Margarethe and a smile for Liese that shivered with promises. He was so ridiculously handsome, with his dark blonde hair and eyes the blue-green of sea glass. And still as enamoured with her as she was with him, or so his whispered asides suggested.
Liese watched him walk away, his stride unhurried, his smile for the waiter generous, and momentarily forgot the embarrassments that had come before. Then Paul opened his mouth and reminded her.
‘I told you it would work. A good dinner, a cosy chat. We’ll have an order out of him before the brandy arrives.’
‘This is madness – you do know that?’
Paul put down the fork heaped with the chocolate cake he was trying to tempt Margarethe into eating.
‘Excuse me?’
Once the icy stare would have stopped her, but Liese was long past being the good little girl trying to please her father. That had ended two years ago in his office.
‘Were you listening to yourself? Haus Elfmann is untroubled? The last show was a hit? What show? André’s not the fool you’re treating him as. He must know we’ve not had a collection out in a year, that we’re barely able to trade anymore.’
She expected fury, or at least indignation. Instead, Paul’s lower lip disappeared like a child caught out in a fib.
Liese pushed her dessert plate away, her stomach churning. When would her father start living in the same world as the one she was forced to navigate?
‘How did you even persuade him to come to Berlin? What lies did you tell him?’
Paul poured another glass of wine before Otto could move the bottle. His face was as red as the lobster he’d guzzled.
‘Don’t get high-handed with me, Miss – the salon’s still mine; you’ve not pushed me out yet. And there was no persuading because there was no need. We exchanged some letters. He mentioned the illness that kept him out of Germany last winter, and the worries over Austria that kept him away in the spring. He assumed he’d missed our shows. I don’t know what news they get in France about the way things are being done here, so I didn’t correct him. No persuasion and no lies. I didn’t need them. Unlike you, Monsieur Bardou still respects who I am.’ He not only looked like a child, he sounded like one.
Margarethe slammed down her glass and glared at her daughter.
‘Apologise to your father, young lady. I warned him a little responsibility would go to your head and now here’s the proof.’
A little responsibility. Liese ignored her. Her father’s smile was so smug and self-satisfied it was hard not to slap him.
‘What did you think would happen when André came? Even if, by some miracle, he doesn’t recognise that the dresses we have left are a year or more out of date, he’ll see that the salon’s deserted. He’ll speak to his other clients. You do know he’s going to find out the state we’re in?’
Paul swatted her away as easily as he’d dismissed André.
‘But he won’t. Didn’t you hear me lay the groundwork? If anyone says anything negative, we’ll call it the jealousy I’ve already mentioned. As for the salon: we can tell him it’s being redone and bring the dresses here. You can retrim them and your mother can model them. He’ll place an order and then, when I get word to the Party about the valuable international business we’re still doing, they’ll beg us to begin showing our collections again. I’ve thought of it all; I didn’t even need Otto!’
He bowed to the table and sat back as if he was expecting applause.
Otto stayed focused on his wine glass. Margarethe broke into coos at Paul’s cleverness. Liese couldn’t think of a single reply. She didn’t know whether to be grateful her father had finally, if uselessly, acknowledged the business was in serious trouble or scream at his unshakeable bravado.
‘I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings, but I think something’s wrong.’
André’s return was such a welcome distraction it was a moment before Liese registered his words, or his frown.
‘Forgive me being away from you all so long. Herr Lindgen was insistent about explaining the changes at Wertheim and I couldn’t dissuade him. While we were talking, the waiter brought him a message. There’s trouble spreading round the city – a riot, from the sound of it – although that is surely unthinkable. Except the other tables appear to be getting the same news.’
Otto scrambled to his feet, his first thought clearly the same as Liese’s. Not unthinkable: Michael and the protest he’d been promising since the summer.
Liese craned round, expecting to see the restaurant emptying, its well-fed diners running in fear of baton-wielding communists. No one had moved. The waiters still circled; people were laughing. She thought she heard a toast celebrating ‘a lively and long-needed night’.
‘It can’t be that serious. No one looks concerned.’
‘Then why is Vogel running over as if he’s got wheels strapped under him?’
The maître d’ was at the table before Liese could find Otto an answer.
‘Monsieur Bardou, forgive me, but your guests need to leave.’
‘Why?’ Liese jumped in before André could speak.
Vogel didn’t look at her. ‘There is a disturbance.’
‘Then surely we’re safer staying here? No one else is moving, so I assume that’s what you’re encouraging the other diners to do?’
This time, Vogel looked straight at Liese. He didn’t offer a smile or a more soothing tone. Echoes of Hertie’s prickled her spine.
‘That isn’t possible. Not in your case. I’ve asked for your car to be brought round to the garage and would suggest you make your way there at once. Monsieur Bardou, as our guest, this difficulty doesn’t involve you. You are welcome to stay here, or retire to the lounge, where coffee is waiting.’ Vogel bowed and was gone before anyone could work out a response.
André stared from one to the other. ‘I don’t understand. Why would he treat you so rudely?’
‘Because we’re Jewish.’
Liese shrugged as André’s eyebrows shot up at the bluntness of her answer. She ignored Margarethe’s horrified gasp. There was a strange relief in saying the words and nothing to lose by continuing.