The Defeated Aristocrat Read Free Page B

lines next to his own and von Braunsch’s names. The officer before them had signed out at eight forty-five. He settled on eight forty-eight. Conscious of making a doubly fraudulent entry, he scribbled the time next to his and von Braunsch’s names and left quickly, before the clerk returned.
    Mouth dry, heart beating a military tattoo, he straightened his helmet and walked out of the main gate. Delivery checked, the duty officer was exchanging jokes with the coal merchant. Blau counted himself fortunate. He’d infringed regulations but there’d been no one around to notice his crime, apart from the officer who’d been too engrossed to give him more than a cursory glance.
    He doubted the man would be able to identify him even if asked, because under their helmets, which were slowly – very slowly – being replaced with smaller steel headwear, all officers looked the same. Or so his mother insisted.
     
    Munz Platz, Konigsberg, Saturday January 4th 1919
    Lilli didn’t wake until eight o’clock, two hours later than usual. The first thing she did was telephone her assistant, Lotte, to warn her she wouldn’t be in the office until mid-morning. Afraid of aggravating her wounds, she moved slowly. It took her twice as long as usual to wash, dress, brush out her hair and pin it into a chignon at the nape of her neck. She re-read the note Bertha had given her over a cup of coffee, considered and dismissed the idea of telephoning the police.
    Since she’d succeeded her father as editor of the Konigsberg Zeit , she’d been inundated with hoax tip-offs. Principally sent, or so she suspected, from men employed by the Zeit’s rival, the Konigsberg Sonne , who thought a woman had no business working as a journalist, much less an editor.
    She unlocked the turret room on her way downstairs. Not wanting to see Dedleff or endure a repeat performance of the blubbering apology he’d made the last time he’d beaten her, she didn’t look inside.
    She entered her father’s apartment and went directly to his room. She knocked on the door and took a moment to compose herself after her father’s nurse shouted, ‘Enter’. Forcing a smile, she opened the door. The smell of soap lingered in the air. Her father had been washed, shaved, and dressed for the day in plain blue linen pyjamas. He kept his striped nightshirt for the night. He looked clean, comfortable, and cared for, but whenever she saw him she was beset by a pang of conscience that she wasn’t the one looking after him. Although he couldn’t have made it plainer after his first stroke that he would prefer her to manage the newspaper than turn herself into his nurse.
    ‘Good morning, Sister Matthew.’ She greeted the nun who was feeding her father coffee from an invalid cup with a spout.
    ‘Good morning, Frau Gluck. Sister Luke said we had a good night. Slept all night, didn’t we?’ She raised her voice as she addressed Lilli’s father.
    Lilli cringed. Her father had lost the use of his legs and his right arm after the first stroke and his ability to speak after the second, but he hadn’t lost his faculties, or his hearing, and she could read irritation in his expression, especially when the sister referred to him in the plural.
    ‘You look well, Papa. Sister Matthew and Sister Luke are doing a fine job of looking after you.’
    Her father picked up the newspaper from the bed with his left hand and waved it.
    ‘I’m going, Papa. The paper will be out on time.’
    ‘Don’t concern yourself about us, Frau Gluck. As soon as we’ve finished our coffee Ernst will read the paper to us. I enjoy listening as much as your father. The highlight is always your editorial.’
    ‘Thank you, Sister Matthew, you’re very kind. See you this evening, Papa.’
    Lilli was glad to leave. It was hard to see the strong man who had loved her unconditionally since birth, guided her through childhood and assumed the role of both parents after her mother’s death, reduced to a