One Last Summer (2007) Read online

  I rely completely on Brunon. Papa always said that he is the best steward Grunwaldsee has ever had. He knows more than anyone about the estate. I am glad that he is too old to serve in the army because in place of the able-bodied men who have been conscripted, we have been given girls from the land army and Polish civilians.

  The land army girls have been billeted with the families of the men who are away fighting. At first it was difficult, but once the wives realized that they would get paid for lodging them they agreed to take them.

  We housed the Poles in some of the older cottages Papa always meant to renovate but for various reasons never did. Their food allowance is less than ours, but I have supplemented their rations. They were nowhere near enough for farm workers.

  Brunon told them to make the cottages as comfortable as they could, and gave them wood to repair the doors and windows as well as some of the old furniture we had in the attic. They have done a good job; the cottages now look better than they have done in years.

  It took a while but now, at last, everything seems to be going smoothly, although we have to keep the groups entirely separate because the German girls look down on the Poles and never miss a chance to belittle them. We received a directive from the Gauleiter’s office stating: ‘All Germans must treat the Polish workers in the Reich with an attitude which corresponds to our national dignity and the aims of German policy.’ I was confused when I read it but Brunon says it is a warning that we must not get too friendly with the Poles. They needn’t have bothered to send us the paper. I barely have time to see my own family.

  The harvest this year will be a good one, but we will not make much money because three-quarters of it has been requisitioned by the army and we have to sell it to them at the prices they have fixed. But it will be a small sacrifice if it means a swifter end to the war.

  So many have been killed in France during the last two weeks, including four boys from my orchestra; Peter was one of them. Dear Peter who was so much fun, if a torment and a tease at times. Mama and Papa von Letteberg received the telegram three days ago, but he died on 30 May. It was a great blow to both of them, as it will be for Claus. My poor brother-in-law; we were related for such a short time.

  I haven’t yet come to the reason why I have picked up my pen after all this time.

  My son, Erich Peter Claus von Letteberg, was born at two o’clock this morning, two days after our flag flew from the Arc de Triomphe and our soldiers paraded up the Champs-Elysées.

  The birth was agonizing. The doctor gave me as much morphine as he dared, and if it hadn’t been for Minna and Mama von Letteberg I think I would have died, but when it was over and I saw my darling son for the first time, I couldn’t believe it. A beautiful, blond, blue-eyed boy, so alive, angry and perfect, and exactly like his father, or so Mama and Papa von Letteberg assured me.

  They drove down from Berlin to see me as soon as they received the news of Peter’s death because they wanted to tell me themselves. It was thoughtful of them and truly made me feel like their daughter. And they stayed when I went into labour soon after they arrived.

  They dote on little Erich. Poor Peter was killed before he became an uncle. Claus had already written agreeing that if we had a son he was to bear my father’s name but I also called him Peter after his brother.

  I know Claus tried to get leave but I was glad he didn’t, because he would have come home to hear my screams filling the house for two days and nights. Papa von Letteberg told me that no German soldier could be spared from the big push into France, but he used his influence to telephone Claus to tell him that he has a son.

  Claus said that now the English and French armies have surrendered and Germany has freed Europe from the presence of the Allied forces, he wants me and his parents to visit him in Paris. Papa von Letteberg said it is out of the question for him, but not for me and Mama von Letteberg.

  Poor Mama von Letteberg; all she wants to do at the moment is nurse Erich and talk about Peter. He has been buried in France so there won’t be a funeral, only a memorial service for him.

  As for me, Claus will have to wait until I am well again. The doctor warned me that as Erich’s birth was such a difficult one it will take me at least two years to recover; besides, Erich is far too young to travel. I am glad that I have an excuse. Perhaps I will feel differently about seeing Claus again in a month or two. Although I don’t think so.

  As I look at my son sleeping beside my bed in the cot that was used for Greta, my brothers and me, I pray the war will end soon and that there will never be another one. The thought that eighteen years from now Erich could be conscripted and killed like Peter makes me want to gather him into my arms and hide him from the world, so he will never know hurt or pain.

  FRIDAY, 23 AUGUST 1940

  A train travelling from Paris to East Prussia via Berlin

  I am returning to Grunwaldsee after spending two weeks with Claus in Paris. Since he has been promoted to colonel it is impossible for him to get leave. I wasn’t sorry until Greta arrived in Grunwaldsee at the beginning of the month with Helmut Kleinert, a distant relative of Papa’s second cousin. She announced that they were staying for two weeks because they needed a holiday, although why she thinks that they deserve one more than the soldiers at the front escapes me.

  Greta was as irritating and catty as ever, and wherever I went in the house or on the estate, she followed, so I finally accepted Claus’s invitation. I told Mama I could go because Greta was there to look after her.

  Greta met Helmut in Berlin. She was transferred to the BDM headquarters there at Easter. She and Helmet celebrated their engagement with their fellow workers, which is just as well, given the food situation at Grunwaldsee. Papa would have approved of Helmut – he is a quiet and pleasant enough boy – but he would have hated Greta’s vulgar engagement ring. Greta told me she had chosen it herself. I would have been ashamed to admit it. I wouldn’t have the courage to wear such an ostentatious diamond, especially in these days of wartime austerity.

  Helmut’s father manufactures armaments and has used his influence to secure a staff post in Berlin for his son, which means that Helmut will never have to fight at the Front. Greta always did look after her own interests to the exclusion of all else, even the welfare of the Fatherland.

  When I left Grunwaldsee I was worried about taking Erich to a city that might be bombed, but there was only one air raid warning the whole time we were in Paris and that was a false alarm. I remained with Claus for fourteen days – and nights. It was such a long way to travel he insisted it would be ridiculous of me to make the effort for less time. I only agreed because I didn’t want to return to Grunwaldsee until Greta had left. That way I could go back to running the estate without worrying about organizing formal dinners and entertainments for her.

  If Greta’s attitude is an example of what’s going on in Berlin, it’s time everyone there took notice of what’s happening in the rest of the country. Everything is in short supply – food, clothing, petrol. Sometimes it is impossible to find your allocated ration of food, and heaven only knows it is small enough. Yet Greta and Helmut carry on as though there isn’t a war. They assume that we have limitless supplies of meat, butter and eggs just because we live in the country.

  Irena said her father is so short of labour to run his building business that he has asked the authorities for prisoners of war. I wouldn’t like to have English and French prisoners at Grunwaldsee. I would be too afraid that they would sabotage our efforts to increase production.

  I have written about everyone except Claus. The best reason for our marriage is sleeping in his pram beside me. Claus used his rank to get us a carriage to ourselves, in case Erich came into contact with someone with a contagious disease. It couldn’t have been easy, even for a colonel. All the trains are crowded and travel warrants scarce, but Claus, like his parents, adores our son and would do anything to protect him, even use his rank to gain privileges, something he would never do for himself or on
my account.

  For the first time I saw a touch of tenderness on his face when he kissed Erich goodbye. I think we have a strange marriage. It is nothing like Irena and Wilhelm’s. Wilhelm has only managed two leaves since his wedding at Christmas but Irena will travel miles, beg rides and sit on trucks with all sorts of strange men just to spend an hour or two with him. When they are together they can barely keep their hands off one another, and Irena is as bad as Wilhelm.

  Claus is always formal and polite. But then he is a colonel, and always has to be seen to be behaving correctly, unlike Wilhelm, who is only a lieutenant and allowed to be outrageous.

  Claus wasn’t at the station to meet me when I arrived in Paris, but he sent his driver. The sergeant apologized and said there was a problem with the English bombing the guns we had pointed at their coast. I was too polite to say anything to him or Claus, but I knew it was an excuse.

  Claus has a suite in a beautiful hotel overlooking the Seine. It has a sitting room, private dining room, two bedrooms and two bathrooms. For the first time Erich didn’t sleep next to me. Claus had asked the hotel to place the cot in the maid’s room. I took Brunon’s daughter, Maria, with me. She has helped me care for Erich since the day he was born and she promised faithfully to call me if he woke, but she didn’t. I think Claus warned her not to, and she, like all our servants, is terrified of him.

  Claus, or more likely his aide, had been most thoughtful. There were fruit and flowers in all the rooms, perfume and cosmetics in the bathroom, iced champagne and brandy in the sitting room, and his driver was at my disposal to take me to the couturier where Claus had opened an account for me. Claus had left a note to tell me that he had booked opera tickets to celebrate my first evening in Paris and afterwards there would be a formal dinner in my honour.

  I was glad Claus had made the arrangements; it is easier to be his wife in public than private. I bathed and changed out of my travelling clothes, went to the couturier and chose a selection of day frocks and three evening gowns, one of which they altered immediately, so I could wear it that night. Then I visited the hotel beautician and had my hair washed and set and a manicure. When Claus arrived at the suite at six o’clock I was dressed and waiting for him.

  I was almost as nervous as I had been on our honeymoon. We have been married a year but until this holiday had spent only seven days and nights together. Before he arrived I took his photograph from my suitcase and set it on the dressing table to remind myself what he looked like. Terribly handsome, a little remote, and every inch the Wehrmacht colonel. I was taken aback when I saw how deferential everyone was to us. Doors opened and people bowed – not only German military personnel but also French civilians.

  The first thing Claus did was ask to see his son. Although Erich was sleeping he insisted on waking him. I thought men weren’t supposed to like babies. Claus held him in his arms and was so proud when Erich pushed his feet down as though he were trying to stand. He insisted he was a prodigy.

  It was no use my telling him the doctor and Minna maintain all babies do the same. After he played with the baby for a short while, he asked me to accompany him to the bedroom to talk to him while he bathed and changed into his dress uniform. I knew what he wanted. It made no difference that I was already dressed. He simply bent me, face down over the bed, lifted my skirt and pulled down my underclothes.

  Perhaps I really am becoming a woman, because the thought of what was about to happen was worse than the reality. It was still painful and humiliating, a bit like the doctor’s examinations when I was pregnant, but I have learned to concentrate on other things, and nothing lasts for ever. Not even that.

  The rest of the evening was wonderful. The opera was superb; it made me realize how much I have missed good music. Claus’s fellow officers were charming, the meal at the restaurant excellent; the sauces were made with real cream and butter, and the meat and gateaux were perfect. I don’t think I have ever danced so much. Every single one of Claus’s fellow officers asked me to honour them. But as the evening drew to a close I began to dread going back to the hotel.

  I scarcely slept during the two weeks; Claus wouldn’t leave me alone. He wants me to have another child as soon as possible. I told him that the doctor warned me against another pregnancy until I have fully recovered from the last, but Claus insisted childbirth and pregnancy is the natural state for a woman, and if my doctor can’t look after me, I should move to Paris where he will find me a better one.

  He wanted to rent a villa outside the city, somewhere not too far away, where he could visit Erich and me, and occasionally stay overnight. If I hadn’t had Grunwaldsee to manage I think he would have ordered me to remain with him.

  I am glad to be on my way home. I have no idea when I will see Claus again, but I do hope it won’t be before Christmas. Someday the war will be over and we will have to live together. I am looking forward to the end of the war but I am not looking forward to living every day with Claus. Married life is just about bearable for two weeks. It will be insufferable when it is for ever.

  ‘That was a good dinner.’ Laura pushed her coffee cup aside and picked up her brandy. ‘What would you like to do tomorrow?’

  ‘I’ve already said that I want to go to Grunwaldsee,’ Charlotte answered.

  ‘We don’t have to. I’ve been looking at the guide books. There are a lot of sights within easy driving distance of Olsztyn. The castle at Malbork, Hitler’s Wolfschanze, or we could tour the Masurian lakes.’

  ‘I came here to see my old home. Don’t you think I’ve put it off quite long enough?’ Charlotte asked.

  ‘We’ll go then, but only if you’re absolutely sure that it won’t be too much for you.’

  ‘I’ll try not to cry this time.’

  ‘I didn’t mean it that way,’ Laura said quickly.

  ‘I know you didn’t, darling.’

  ‘I hate to see you upset.’

  ‘I was a fool to ask you to stop off at Bergensee on the way here and a bigger fool to expect it to be unchanged. Communist Poland had higher priorities than the upkeep of old mansions.’

  ‘We could ask someone about Grunwaldsee before we go there,’ Laura suggested again.

  Charlotte shook her head. ‘All I need before I see it is a good night’s sleep. Do you mind if I leave you to your own devices again?’

  ‘To be honest, at the moment there’s nothing I’d like better than to curl up in bed with a good book and half the contents of the minibar.’

  ‘A bottle of brandy would be better. Mixing leads to headaches.’

  ‘Are you advising me to get drunk?’ Laura smiled.

  ‘A little merry, maybe. You deserve a celebration after finishing your film.’ Charlotte left her seat. ‘See you in the morning.’

  Laura finished her brandy and walked into the foyer. Sandwiched between the inevitable amber jewellery shop and an over-priced ladies’ fashion outlet was a small booth that sold Polish and foreign newspapers, and a few books. The English language selection was limited to the half-a-dozen of the top bestsellers from the last ten years. Recognizing the jacket of One Last Summer, and deciding it was as good a time as any to pick up the book again, she took it to the cash register. She was only sorry the next morning when she realized she’d fallen asleep over the first page.

  MONDAY, 30 JUNE 1941

  Now I understand why Claus, Paul and Wilhelm were given three weeks’ leave at the beginning of the month. Eight days ago our troops invaded Russia, and we believe all three were among the advance guard.

  It has been a hard year. The War Office plagues us constantly, wanting more and more produce that we cannot give them. Last time their officials paid us a visit they took a dozen horses. They insisted they were for transport, but Brunon and I are convinced they went for horse meat. I saw one of the officers looking at Elise. I told him he would take her over my dead body.

  I have no idea how they think we are going to replace the cattle and pigs they have taken. Our breeding stock
has been halved since the beginning of the war, food rations have been cut to the bare minimum and there is talk of reducing them again. Our ‘friends’ in Allenstein don’t help. People we hardly know visit us, offering money and goods for food we don’t have. When I try to explain that we don’t have enough left to feed ourselves after supplying the army quota, they accuse us of living off the fat of the land while everyone else starves.

  It is the same with Mama von Letteberg at Bergensee. Because the farms pay rent to the Bergensee estate, everyone assumes they pay in food. Even Irena’s father gives away most of the eggs the chickens lay in his back yard. As he says, everywhere you look there are children with big eyes and empty stomachs.

  Irena and Wilhelm spent his leave in the summerhouse by the lake with their little girl, Marianna, who was born last September. They named her after Mama in the hope it would please her, but poor Mama is worse than ever. Most of the time she doesn’t even remember that Papa is dead. Martha, Minna, Irena and I do what we can, but she often refuses to leave her room for days at a time. When we managed to persuade her to come down to dine with Paul, Wilhelm and Claus the evening they arrived, she began crying, then picked up a knife and pointed it at her chest. We are terrified she will injure herself.

  Having Claus home for three weeks was a terrible strain. He spent most of the time working on the farm and playing with Erich. I have come to the conclusion that marriage is simply a question of getting through the nights as best I can. In the day it is not so bad when there are other people around.

  We spent three nights at Bergensee. His mother gave a dinner party in his honour, and his father also managed to get a few days’ leave. Greta came back to see Paul and Wilhelm. I think there is something going on between Paul and Brunon’s daughter, Maria. I saw them coming out of the barn together late at night and both of them were covered with straw. He spends most of his days riding with her. I do hope it isn’t serious. It wouldn’t do for a von Datski to marry a steward’s daughter.