The Women in His Life. Barbara Taylor Bradford

The Women in His Life - Barbara Taylor Bradford


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let themselves out of the Mandelbaums’ apartment and Willy closed the door behind them; pausing on the landing, he took hold of Theodora’s shoulders and gently turned her face to him. ‘So, we have an understanding, Theodora? You will meet me under the chuppa and become my wife?’

      She nodded solemnly and her expression was serious, but her light green eyes were shining and they danced with happiness. ‘Yes, Willy. Yes to both your questions, and I shall write to my Aunt Ketti to tell her. As my only living relative she’d want to know that I’m … engaged … to be married.’

      ‘That’s true. And I shall inform my father, when he gets back from Frankfurt, and I shall also tell him that I can’t go to America. Not without you. We’ll have to get a visa for you, Teddy. I’ll stay in Berlin until we can both go to Brooklyn to my Uncle Nathan’s.’

      She smiled and nodded and took his hand in hers and together they went down the steep flight of stairs and crossed the vestibule of the apartment building.

      As Willy opened the door leading into the street, Theodora stiffened alertly, grabbed hold of his arm. ‘Listen! Isn’t that the sound of breaking glass?’

      ‘You’re right, it is. I hope it’s not a burglar trying to get into Mr Mandelbaum’s jewellery shop. I’d better go and see. Wait here.’

      ‘No! Don’t go out, Willy! It’s dangerous!’ she cried.

      He paid no attention to her warning, hurried into the narrow street, where he immediately collided with a stormtrooper who stood staring up at the building.

      The stormtrooper grabbed Willy by the shoulder and swung him to one side. ‘Hey you! Watch it! Watch where you’re going, you clumsy dolt!’

      ‘I’m very sorry, sir,’ Willy said politely, struggling to break free from the man’s grip, but it was tenacious. ‘Please, let go of me.’

      On hearing this request the stormtrooper tightened his hold, peered at Willy in the pale light coming through the door’s transom from the vestibule. ‘Why should I let go of you? You might be a Jew for all I know. Is this a Jewish house? Are you a Jew?’

      Theodora, who had been listening with growing alarm behind the door, could no longer contain herself. She rushed outside before Willy had a chance to answer – and perhaps unwittingly say the wrong thing altogether.

      ‘Let him go!’ she yelled, drawing to a stop right in front of the stormtrooper. ‘Let him go at once!’ she repeated, her voice rising shrilly. ‘We haven’t done anything.’

      ‘You have if you’re Jews. Are you stinking shitty Jews?’ He grinned sadistically and twisted Willy’s shoulder back so far Theodora cringed and sucked in her breath.

      Willy was stoic. He gritted his teeth and he did not cry out once, despite the sharp pain.

      ‘Come on, confess it,’ the stormtrooper snarled, ‘this is a Jewish house, and you’re both Jews.’

      ‘We are not Jews! What kind of a thing is that to say!’ Theodora exclaimed. And with immense hauteur she drew herself up to her full height of five foot five, and glared at him. She was as bold as brass as she faced him down unflinchingly.

      ‘My name is Theodora Marie-Theresa Schmidt and this is Wilhelm Braun, and we’re both good Catholics and good Germans.’ She gulped, took a deep breath. ‘And good Nazis, yes, we are indeed that. Heil Hitler!’ She thrust her arm straight out in front of her in the Nazi salute. ‘Heil Hitler! Long live our magnificent Führer! Long live the Third Reich!’ She saluted again.

      The stormtrooper gaped at her in astonishment.

      And so did Willy. When she had rushed out into the street his heart had almost stopped and he had been terrified, more for her than for himself. But now he knew she was going to get away with this act because of her insolence, her aggressiveness and her effrontery. He’ll believe her, Willy thought, because he’s certain no Jew would dare to confront him like this, or shout at a Nazi stormtrooper the way she is shouting at him. Her anger and her arrogance were so perfectly simulated, and she spoke with such conviction, who could doubt that she was telling the truth? It was quite a performance she was giving. Willy marvelled at it, and at her audacity.

      Theodora continued to rail at the man. ‘You’ve got a flashlight in your hand,’ she bellowed. ‘Shine it on us. Shine it on Willy. Go on, do it! You’ll see he’s not a Jew!’ Before the stormtrooper could stop her she leaned forward and snatched the flashlight out of his hand, turned it on and levelled it at Willy.

      Willy held his breath, once again petrified for her, for them both.

      ‘Take your hat off, Willy!’ She spoke so authoritatively, he did as she said, pulling off his hat with his free hand, whilst praying under his breath.

      ‘Look at him!’ she ordered the stormtrooper. ‘Look at him! Willy has sandy-red hair and more freckles than you’ve ever seen on anybody, and hazel eyes. Is that a Jewish face? No, it’s an Aryan face.’

      Dramatically, she turned the flashlight on herself.

      ‘And just look at me. I’m the Nordic type personified.’ She pulled her long hair over her shoulder. ‘See, I have fair hair and green eyes and skin the colour of a rose. Do I look semitic? Of course I don’t, because I’m not.’

      At last the stormtrooper found his voice. ‘Looks can be very deceptive,’ he snapped. Nonetheless, some of the harshness and bluster had gone out of him, and he seemed uncertain in the face of her anger and her torrent of words uttered in such superior and confident tones. But he continued to hold on to Willy, even tightening his grasp.

      Theodora drew closer and said with icy imperiousness, ‘What you say is true. Looks can deceive. And perhaps you are not all you appear to be. I said Heil Hitler before. Why didn’t you respond in the same way, as you’re supposed to? I hope you’re a loyal Party member.’ She threw back her shoulders proudly, and tossed her head, spoke more arrogantly than ever. ‘My father is SS Gruppenführer Schmidt. He is a good friend of Reichsführer Himmler. He knows him very well.’ Summoning every ounce of her nerve, Theodora now waved the flashlight in front of the startled stormtrooper’s face. She stared at him, as if committing his face to memory. ‘What’s your name, corporal?’ she asked, her eyes narrowing.

      The stormtrooper reacted as she had expected he would, furiously pushing her arm away. ‘Get that light out of my eyes!’ he yelled, and leaning towards her he grabbed the flashlamp from her with great roughness.

      Unperturbed, Theodora said, ‘Did you hear me, corporal? My father is a friend of Himmler’s, and he’s a powerful man in the SS. He’s not going to be happy when he knows we’ve been detained by you in this way. I asked you your name, corporal. So, what is it?’

      It was apparent the stormtrooper had believed everything Theodora had said thus far, and this second reference to Himmler, who was head of the SS, seemed to both frighten and galvanise him. Abruptly he let go of Willy.

      Instantly Theodora took hold of Willy’s arm and pulled him close to her side. ‘Come on, let’s go,’ she said.

      ‘Yes, you’d better get off,’ the stormtrooper exclaimed sharply, stepping back. ‘Go on, go home! A lot’s about to happen. Soon it won’t be safe on the streets. We’re after Jews tonight.’ As he said this he laughed raucously and slapped his thigh, as if it was a huge joke, and, without so much as another word or a glance, he turned from them indifferently, walked on down the narrow street, shining his flashlight on other shop windows.

      Willy gasped, ‘Look what he did to Mr Mandelbaum’s store front –’

      ‘Hurry, Willy! Hurry!’ Theodora hissed, and catching Willy’s hand in hers she turned, dragging him with her, and together they ran in the other direction, away from the apartment building and Mandelbaum’s jewellery shop, and out into the Kurfürstendamm.

      As they hit this street they immediately saw that havoc was starting to break loose everywhere,


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