‘Did you ask them, about school and not going out?’
Michael was still growling.
Liese moved towards the stairs and away.
‘No, I didn’t. I don’t care about school, I’m glad to be finished with it.’
She shook her head as his eyebrows knitted.
‘But I did listen to you, okay? And, despite what you seem to think, I do read the papers. I know there are restrictions – that the Jews can’t marry who they want anymore; that they can’t vote. I don’t like it – of course I don’t – the same as I don’t like seeing the horrible posters that have reappeared, like you said they would. But, tonight, I don’t want to think about any of that. Besides, whatever is happening doesn’t mean my father is wrong. It certainly doesn’t mean your brand of politics is right. So, can we be done?’
‘You haven’t listened at all or you wouldn’t talk about the Jews and they as if they were some alien species.’
Liese steeled herself for another angry outburst, but all she could hear in his voice was shock.
‘I don’t understand, Liese, I really don’t. Whether you feel part of their heritage or not, you can’t deny that your father’s family are Jewish, and likely your mother’s too, given where they’re from. So why do you insist on thinking you’re different from everyone else who’s been dealt the same label? If you read the papers, you’ve seen the race charts: the slightest drop of Jewish blood means you’re a Jew, no matter how deep you bury it. It means you’ve no place in the Party’s new Germany.’
Thinking about the evening later, Liese wished that was the point at which he had stopped. She told herself that, if he had, she would have apologised, smoothed things over; persuaded him to join the celebrations with a smile. He hadn’t, so neither did she.
‘Liese, come on! Are you really so stupid you can’t see that?’
It was stupid that had made her hackles flare. That had stopped her admitting that, yes, the charts that the Party had ordered to be published everywhere had frightened her. They would frighten anyone, with their horrible pictures of people who barely looked human and their family trees and diagrams of Aryan and Non-Aryan grandparents and parents, which were now used to establish degrees of Jewishness. And, of course, she hated the way Jews were written about in the papers, as if they were some other species and not even people. It made her feel sick. On a less important day, she would have admitted that. But this was Haus Elfmann’s night: it was not a time for misery. And Michael had called her stupid and he had meant it and some lines couldn’t be crossed.
Liese whirled on him, spitting out her frustration in a stream she knew as soon as she started owed far more to Paul’s thinking than her own.
‘Why do you have to speak to me like I’m some kind of idiot? If anyone’s stupid, it’s you. Look at this place. Look at the clients who come here, who spend a fortune here. Look at how much they adore us. Don’t you see? We’re not the kind of Jews Hitler is bothered with – the academics and the intellectuals, or the criminals. We create jobs; we contribute. The Party knows our value. They would never come after us.’
She expected him to stalk away, or snap back. Instead, Michael recoiled as if she had hit him, his face pinched and drawn in a way she had never seen it before.
‘I’ve upset you; I’m sorry. You’re right: the way I spoke to you wasn’t fair. But I know you, and I don’t think you believe this. This is Paul speaking, not you. And I know you’re tired of my lectures, that I should choose my moments more carefully. But that’s the problem: I can’t choose my moments, because time’s running out.’
Anguish flooded his voice, catching Liese by surprise.
‘The world we know is disappearing. Maybe you don’t care about school, but I do. And about university. That’s all done for me: with my bloodline, with two Jewish parents, there’s not one institution left I can go to. If it wasn’t for Father’s job here, and him taking me on, I’d have no place at all to be.’ He paused as if he was weighing his words. ‘Do you want to know the truth? What I’ve never told anyone? I’m scared. I don’t like the look of the future, and I’m scared.’
He had returned to the Michael Liese recognised, the one she couldn’t bear to see in distress.
‘I didn’t know that. Then I’m sorry too. I hate that we keep fighting. And, if I’m being honest, those horrible diagrams do scare – and disgust – me. I can’t relate the pictures to anyone I know. I did ask Father about our lineage, but he said it didn’t matter, that his parents were barely observant. And Mother says that kind of thing is “too old-fashioned to care about”.’
She grimaced as Michael shook his head.
‘I know she’s annoying, but that’s how she is. And I honestly didn’t know university mattered to you so much. I always thought you wanted to work here at the salon, like me. But we’ll be all right – maybe the new rules make us Jewish, but no one would think it; no one cares. And it’s not like your father merely has a job – he practically runs the place. What is it he always says? “Haus Elfmann would be bankrupt in a week if I left you children in charge.” You’ll follow in his footsteps here; I know you will. You have a great future ahead of you.’
Her impression of Otto addressing her parents was so perfect, she thought Michael would laugh. Instead, his face crumpled.
‘Michael, please. Don’t be angry, not tonight. I promise that tomorrow I’ll listen as long as you want.’
There was a sudden ripple of applause from the floor below. Someone had brought in a gramophone. People were breaking into smaller groups, searching out partners.
‘Look: everyone is getting along perfectly. Even Minister Goebbels is smiling. Can’t you make an effort, just this once?’
Liese started down the stairs and held out her hand for Michael to follow. He took a step back.
‘I am looking, Liese. But I can’t see what you see. I don’t want to.’ His voice tightened. ‘So they’re smiling – so what? One day they’ll stop. You need to do something: find a voice that’s not your father’s. Educate yourself. Come with me, to one of my meetings. I could introduce you to people who have been to Oranienburg, who know about other camps being built – far bigger ones. They’re helping me understand what we’re facing and what we need to do to fight it. They’ll help you.’
She thought she had made a bridge back to him, but his breathing had quickened and his eyes were gleaming. His intensity unnerved her.
One of his meetings: he meant the communists. Her father hated them; he said they were the worst threat of all. He would never forgive her if she got mixed up with that and she had no intention of being shut out by her father again.
A record sang out below them, the music slow at first and then the tempo quickening. Liese looked down and caught the eye of André Bardou, the handsome French buyer who had flirted with her today and not with Margarethe. She was sixteen. It was a party. Michael’s fears would have to wait.
‘This is a reception, Michael, not a rally. And, no, I’ve no intention of coming to one of your meetings. I’ve had an education, thank you. I don’t need another.’