Woman in the Shadows Read Free Page B

however, Udet had been dragooned into the service of the Reich. At Goering’s insistence he had been appointed head of the Technical Division of the Luftwaffe. He was supposed to be too busy overseeing aircraft manufacture and development to waste his time stunt flying, but still he couldn’t resist it. He was coming into the studio later that week to discuss filming
The Pilot’s Wife.
    “Generaloberst Udet! What fun for you! We saw him flying at the Olympics. Such a clever man. Will he be performing any of his stunts?”
    “Of course. We’ve got a day’s filming out at Tempelhof.”
    The fact that Udet’s stunts were to be filmed at a real airport, in the real sky, was unusual. Hardly anything was shot on location now. All movies were filmed in the studio. It was as though the Nazis wanted to present their fictional world, perfect in every way, without any interference from the real world and all its complexities.
    “Then I shall make certain to see it.” Magda speared a slice of lemon and suspended it in her tea. “And I’m grateful you could spare time in your schedule to see me.”
    “It is a pleasure, Frau Doktor,” said Clara neutrally. But her mind was racing. She took a bite of sponge cake and waited for Magda to come to the point.
    “I have a little request for you. About a party I’m hosting on Saturday. I wondered if you might like to attend?”
    A party at the home of the Propaganda Minister? Clara could think of nothing she would like less. And no offer harder to refuse. “How kind of you.”
    “I have an ulterior motive, I’m afraid. There are some English guests. Their German is not quite as proficient as one would hope, and I think they find conversation quite exhausting. As you have an English father, I thought you might be able to speak to them and make them feel relaxed.”
    “I would be delighted.”
    “Excellent.” Her mission accomplished, Magda glanced around restlessly, as if in search of small talk. Her fingers hovered over a biscuit, then withdrew. “And how is your family? You have a sister, don’t you?”
    “Angela.”
    “Perhaps I will meet her one day. I imagine she is most interested in the country where your mother grew up. Your mother’s family came from…where was it again?”
    “Hamburg.”
    “Ah yes.”
    Clara wondered how long these cordialities would continue. Their words hung between them like mist drifting over deep waters. Frau Goebbels avoided her eye, tapping her fingers on the arm of her chair like a pianist trying to recapture an elusive melody.
    “I wonder…” ventured Clara. “Could I ask who these English friends are?”
    “Oh, didn’t I say? You know them, I think. Unity Mitford and her sister Diana.”
    The Mitfords. Diana and her younger sister Unity were notorious in London for their fascist sympathies. Diana had caused a scandal by leaving her husband to set up house with Oswald Mosley, the darkly handsome leader of the British Union of Fascists, whose rallies were frequently opportunities for violent clashes between his gang of black-shirted followers and their opponents. Though Clara had indeed met Diana and Unity, they were Angela’s friends really, part of a set that adored fancy dress, cliquish societies, and wildly extravagant parties. How curious that their politics should share some of the same characteristics.
    “We’ve met, yes. But it was a while ago.”
    “Diana’s a Mosley now, of course. She married her husband last year in our apartment in Hermann-Goering-Strasse.”
    Magda’s face softened as she recalled the occasion. “They wanted a quiet ceremony, you see, because Mosley’s first wife had only recently died. So they decided to marry here in Berlin, and the Führer graciously agreed to attend. Diana wore golden silk. Unity and I were her witnesses. Afterwards we drove out here for lunch, down by the lake, and my little girls presented her with posies of wildflowers. We gave them a twenty-volume set of the works of