The Snake and the Serpent

Munich 1932

Even the oxygen felt like it was on hold, waiting. The waiting had driven the girls outside. Having escaped the house, they were now relaxed on the sloping lawn, basking in the sun. Helene wanted to be outside with her girls, free, not suffocating. waiting for him. She shook her head and clenched her teeth.

Laughter broke her thoughts; she refocused. The girls were chalk and cheese. Her youngest, Michele, the tomboy, was playing with the gardener’s dog. Tug of war. Who’d win? Tough call. The dog was bigger, but that wouldn’t stop her. You could see the determination on her face, as she dug her heels into the ground. In contrast, Natasha was sitting on the grass, leaning on one of the old trees. Her eyes closed as if asleep or relaxing. Helene’s hand pushed against the lead trim of the window, opening it more. She sat on the bay window ledge and managed to lean out so that she could feel the wind on her face.

Natasha’s eyes opened. She sat upright. Her head flicked to the right. Helene followed her eldest daughter’s gaze. Nothing. What was it? A car appeared between the trees that lined the driveway, followed by another and another.

He was here.

Helene shot a look at Natasha. Had she noticed her glare? You could never tell with that girl, far too alert for her age. If the eyes are the windows to your soul, Natasha’s were fortified, no one could penetrate them. Helene got up. She wished she had Natasha’s skill; it would come in handy sometimes. It would come in handy now.

***

If he were honest, Friedrich felt sick. He hadn’t been able to eat all day. Saliva flooded his mouth, but he couldn’t swallow, he was trying, but couldn’t. This was stupid; there was nothing physically wrong with him, just nerves. Everything was how it should be. Helene had organised that. The only thing that could go wrong now was. The nausea came back. Maybe that was the problem. Could he ruin it? He wanted so much to be in this, to be part of it, but if he felt like this now, could he?

Friedrich looked towards the photograph of his men in the trenches, all smiles in the chaos. It calmed him. The new Germany would be for them. He glanced around his study. It was too grand for his liking, the war had changed things, changed him. The dark oak sideboards and panelling felt oppressive. The literature, which lined the walls, amplified the divide between him and his men. Why should there be a difference, they had given all they could, all we could. But Germany had lost so much with the Treaty of Versailles and now the depression. Everyone needed a win, to be led out of this darkness, to feel the pride, to realise what made Germany great. It was the German people; they knew how to right the country, how to make it strong. Europe had no right to tell them what to do, to keep them small, in debt, not allowing industry to grow. He looked back at the photograph. There was no class system in the trenches and there would be no class system in the future and the future Germany would reclaim what was theirs, what was ours. He smiled. Enthusiasm came back, followed by the nerves. They would accept him, they would understand.

***

Helene walked down the stairs as the butler collected the guest’s coats. She didn’t recognise most of the group. Her old university professor hung back from the main group with another tall military man. Both acknowledged Helene and then analysed the others. Although confident and proud in their official uniforms, the rest of the group stepped aside to allow a shorter man in a beige overcoat through, lining an imaginary path for him to follow. His dark hair looked like it was patchy as he incessantly tried to smooth it over his skull. A small, squashed moustache rested on his lips. Alert eyes roved around the area and finally

moved up the staircase to Helene. There was a challenge in the stare, a nod, and then he moved through to the study. Yes, thought Helene, change had arrived. She didn’t like him. She didn’t trust him, and she definitely didn’t want him in her house.

***

Friedrich had been busy since the meeting. His life seemed to consist of working at the Party headquarters and then working in his study. It felt endless; so much to do. So many reports to assess and proposals to review.

Michele burst into the study. ‘Papa, I want to play.’

‘I’m busy.’ Friedrich said. ‘I’ll play later.’

‘No, you never play later. You never play at all.’

Michele’s bottom lip curled, she stood with her arms crossed, her eyes defiant as ever, staring up at her father. He kept working. She grabbed a book off the shelf and dropped it on the floor. He ignored her. She did it again, and again, until there was a little line of books along the floor.

‘Michele.’

She walked up beside him and started poking his arm. Then she grabbed his jacket and started pulling at it.

‘Michele.’

She didn’t stop. His patience was running out. He couldn’t focus, the noise, the interruption, the constant barrage. That was enough. He threw down his pen and turned to her, his anger about to explode.

Michele looked at him; her eyes glazed and a tear spilling down her cheek.

‘I miss you, Papa.’

The image melted his anger. He lowered his hand, and wiped away her tears, then lifted her onto his knee. She snuggled into his chest, and he hugged her.

‘I love you; you know.’

He stroked her hair.

‘I know,’ she said. ‘I love you too, that’s why I miss you.’

‘I’ve been busy.’

‘You’re always busy, always working.’

‘I have a new job now. It’s very important. I’m the boss of the police.’

‘I know, but don’t forget about us, don’t forget about me, Papa.

He glanced at his desk. His head was spinning with population statistics and location reports. He looked into Michele’s eyes, they were glistening, her eyelids were swelling and there was a quiver in her bottom lip. No, the reports could wait. The work was to make a better country for his family after all.

He stroked Michele’s cheek. ‘I have a very important job for you.’

She smiled and nodded.

‘You need to go and get your mother and sister and tell them that we’re going for a–’ he paused, ‘–picnic.’

Michele’s eyes lit up and she jumped off his knee and skipped out of the room singing.

‘We’re going on a picnic; we’re going on a picnic.’

***

Helene sat out on the blanket watching her family. This was what she missed. Friedrich was running around the field with Michele and Natasha, playing tag. He looked younger than normal. Out here, there was no stress; it was as if there was no one else in the world but them. Helene closed her eyes to plant the image firmly in her mind. She opened her eyes to mass laughter as Friedrich fell over and the girls attacked him with tickles. Helene smiled, oh how I miss you Friedrich.

He managed to wriggle free and ran over to Helene.

‘Now it’s your turn.’

He started tickling her and the girls joined in.

‘Stop!’ she giggled. ‘Stop, I can’t breathe.’

They all stopped to catch their breath.

‘Oh, Papa,’ said Michele, ‘I miss this, I miss the fun! When can we do it again?’

‘Soon,’ Friedrich said. ‘Soon.’

***

‘Wake up,’ Anneliese said, as she drew the curtains.

Michele shielded her scrunched up face with the blankets and muffled, ‘I don’t want to.’

‘Come on.’ Anneliese jumped on the bed and started bouncing on it.

The covers came down to reveal a grumpy face and folded arms. Anneliese stared grumpily back, but neither could keep a straight face for long and they both laughed. Michele tried to snuggle into Anneliese for a hug and a little extra sleep.

‘I know what you’re doing,’ Anneliese smiled as she got off the bed, ‘you have to get up.’

Anneliese walked out of Michele’s room and to Natasha’s. She gave a soft knock before entering.

‘Are you awake?’

‘Yes,’ Natasha replied, looking up from her book.

‘Breakfast is ready downstairs.’

‘You really do spoil us,’ said Natasha as she put the book on the bed. ‘Sometimes you act like a servant, and you know you aren’t.’

‘Your Mother does pay me.’

‘Don’t be silly’ Natasha said. ‘I get paid for chores too, does that mean that I’m a servant? I go to the parties like you, and my family joins in for dinner and–’

‘Stop’ Anneliese said, ‘you’ve made your point, and I’ve made breakfast, so go eat.’

Anneliese closed the door laughing. Natasha was right, she didn’t have an official role. Anneliese met Helene just after the war when Anneliese was six. Her mother had just died, and her father struggled with her headstrong personality. Helene took her under her wing. When Michele was born, Anneliese helped and slowly became more and more involved with the family. Now she felt like the older sister, even though she still lived with her father.

After taking the children to school, Anneliese walked along the road to the local bakery. Just ahead of her she saw some brown shirts standing outside a Jewish shop barring people from entering. They smiled at her as she approached. She was lucky. The way she dressed, and her look allowed her to pass as a German rather than a Jew. But she didn’t want to get too close, just in case. She crossed the street to the local bakery. She could never go past it without stopping in. The scent of baking was enticing, and before she knew it, she’d been drawn inside.

‘Hello, Anneliese,’ said the short, plump man behind the counter. ‘What will it be today?’

‘Hello, Herr Schmidt.’

Anneliese looked at the small cakes, her tastebuds started to water. ‘The pink one please.’

She felt like a little kid in a confectionary store.

‘This bakery is a bad influence on me.’

‘Me too,’ he replied, laughing.

She headed to meet her brother in the local square. Was that yelling? She ran. There was chaos. Police were surrounding a group of people, there was yelling and pushing. Others trying to run away, some trying to fight their way out. She could see Yosef in the group.

A chill rose through her body.

‘Yosef.’

Yosef turned around searching for his sister. He looked confused. He tried to get out of the mob, but people were pushing him back.

‘Anneliese.’

There was terror in his eyes: she froze. Slowly her brain caught up and saw who was in charge. Friedrich. She started running towards him.

Friedrich yelled, ‘Go home.’

‘He’s my brother, Friedrich. Let him go.’

Her shock turned to fear, then anger, and a rage fired through her.

Yosef tried to reach her, but they pushed him into a truck.

‘He’s done nothing wrong.’

Friedrich looked through her. Anneliese scanned the crowd for her brother again. Her breath caught in her throat. Everyone was moving. Just glimpses.

‘Let him go,’ she shouted, not at Friedrich, but everyone, anyone, anyone at all. ‘Let him go.’

‘I’ll talk to you later,’ Friedrich said, pushing her out of his way.

The push caught her off balance and she fell to the ground. He turned and got into a truck. Anneliese was frantic; there was a scream. It made her shudder. Then she realised she’d made it.

‘Anneliese.’

‘Yosef, what’s happening? Where are you going? Where are they taking you?’

The truck started to drive away, ‘I don’t know, I don’t know; help me, Anneliese, Anneliese.’

‘No, no, no,’ was all she could say.

She stared at the trucks after they had vanished. Silence, confusion, and emptiness, both she and the courtyard felt, empty. The only sounds heard, was the steady fall of water from the fountain and her sobs. She was dizzy and stunned.

Scared of going home, alone, Anneliese got up out of the dirt. Her hand smudged the tears across her face. She rinsed her hands in the water.

What? Why? Her brain was fuzzy, can’t focus. Can’t think. I need. Talk to someone. She turned and staggered to the bakery.

Anneliese collected the girls after school, trying to act normal. Michele beckoned Anneliese to her room.

‘What’s wrong?’

Michele indicated her to sit.

‘Nothing.’

‘That’s an awful smile, what’s wrong?’

A tear ran down Anneliese’s cheek, she loved the girls they were like family. She didn’t want to lose them too.

***

Friedrich was home early today. There was something he had to do. Something he’d been putting off for some time. He took a deep breath. Anneliese was like a daughter. But she wasn’t, no she was not. She was not a daughter. The party constantly reminded him. He looked up and saw Natasha coming down the stairs.

‘Get Anneliese.’

He turned and walked into the study.

Natasha walked back up the stairs towards Michele’s room. There was sobbing. She paused and listened.

‘It’s Yosef,’ Anneliese said. ‘He was arrested today in town.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know?’

‘Well, I could ask Papa to…’

‘No.’

‘Why?’ said Michele. ‘He’s a big boss; he may be able to help.’

‘I don’t want you to talk to your Papa.’

‘Why?’ Michele asked. ‘That’s silly, why not talk to him?’

Anneliese just shrugged.

‘Why?’

Anneliese hesitated.

‘He arrested Yosef.’

Michele looked at Anneliese for a minute, confused.

‘Why?’

‘I talked to Herr Schmidt, and he said that groups of people are being arrested.’

Michele looked quizzically at the bed, then to Anneliese.

‘I still don’t understand. Why arrest Yosef? What has he done? What groups?’

‘Different types of people, but,’ Anneliese paused. ‘most are Jewish or Communist.’

The door opened.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Natasha, coming inside. ‘Father wants you.’

Anneliese caught her breath and looked at them both.

‘Wait,’ Natasha said, pulling them together. ‘I want a hug.’

They all huddled together.

Natasha joined them, ‘We’ll always be family, you do know that; we’re here for you.’

Michele whispered, ‘sisters forever.’

They all nodded.

‘I love you both,’ Anneliese said.

Then she turned and walked out of the room.

Michele turned to Natasha.

‘I don’t understand, make me understand.’

‘I don’t think I can,’ said Natasha.

***

Helene walked upstairs to Michele’s room. Opening the door quietly she found Michele on her bed crying.

‘What’s wrong?’

She gave her daughter a hug.

‘Anneliese, I miss Anneliese.’

‘Why, where’s Anneliese?’ Helene said.

‘Papa sent her away,’ Michele said, ‘because Papa said she was bad and that I shouldn’t talk to her.’

‘What?’

‘Because her people aren’t good, shouldn’t be here and she was telling lies about the people Papa arrested yesterday. But – I miss her.’

Helene pulled her daughter towards her.

‘Why doesn’t Papa like Anneliese anymore? It’s not fair.’

Michele’s eyes betrayed her anger.

‘I don’t know, I don’t know.’

She stroked Michele’s hair until she was asleep. Helene quietly made her way out of the room and downstairs. Then she walked straight into the study.

‘What – you don’t knock anymore?’ Friedrich said, although he didn’t look up from his papers.

‘It appears the rules of this house have changed,’ Helene retorted. ‘Talk to me about Anneliese. Why was she dismissed?’

‘She’s a bad influence, putting ideas into their heads,’ he said leaning back in the chair.

‘Better than someone else, putting ideas into their heads. Why now?’ said Helene.

‘I cannot have someone like that, on my staff.’

‘Like what?’ said Helene, ‘A Jew?’

‘Well. Yes. If you want to put it like that.’

‘I cannot believe you. Your politics are not to come into this home.’

She was shocked. What was happening? She could feel her temper building up. It took all her willpower not to cry, slap him, shake him, or something, anything.

‘The children will be educated in the true ways of Germany, like the true breed they are,’ Friedrich stated and looked back at his papers.

‘Like hell they will,’ she said as she stormed out slamming the door.

Friedrich looked up. He didn’t like it either. But why could she not see that, not support him. There couldn’t be one rule for him and one rule for everyone else. He sighed, he’d had to do it, he just had to, damn it.

***

Helene had to get out of the house. She went to the car and drove. Thoughts were racing in her head; how did this happen? What had happened to Friedrich? I don’t even know him anymore.

She was driving on autopilot, until suddenly she recognised the area. A two-storeyed house stood before her, small but impressive. Bordered by old trees, it had a small stream running through the back of the property. She couldn’t see it, but she knew. Helene parked and made her way to the door. She paused, then pressed the doorbell and waited. Nothing. She pressed it again, no reply. She pounded the door with her fist to knock, but instead of making a sound it simply opened.

‘Hello.’

Light filtered through the doorway into the foyer.

‘Anneliese?’

There was eerie silence. She walked up the stairs to Anneliese’s room. It was chaotic: the furniture was out of place, papers and clothing were on the floor. Helene tried to make sense of it all. She ran out of the room, pushing doors, screaming, and the more she ran the more she felt a cold chill creep through her. Suddenly she stopped, and gulped for air, she couldn’t breathe. Helene pushed the back of her hand over her cheek and across her eyes, to wipe away tears.

‘Anneliese, Anneliese.’

Slowly she lowered herself on to the bottom steps and leaning her head against the wall and cried. What’s happening?