They both stepped outside, then Lloyd said: ‘They’re saying your party is going to support the Enabling Act!’
‘It’s not certain,’ said Heinrich. ‘They’re divided.’
‘Who’s against the Nazis?’
‘Bruning and some others.’ Bruning was a former chancellor and a leading figure.
Lloyd felt more hopeful. ‘Which others?’
‘Did you call me out of the room to pump me for information?’
‘Sorry, no, I didn’t. Walter von Ulrich wants to have lunch with your father.’
Heinrich looked dubious. ‘They don’t like each other – you know that, don’t you?’
‘I gathered as much. But they’ll put their differences aside today!’
Heinrich did not seem so sure. ‘I’ll ask him. Wait here.’ He went back inside.
Lloyd wondered whether there was any chance this would work. It was a shame Walter and Gottfried were not bosom buddies. But he could hardly believe the Catholics would vote with the Nazis.
What bothered him most was the thought that if it could happen in Germany, it could happen in Britain. This grim prospect made him shiver with dread. He had his whole life in front of him, and he did not want to live it in a repressive dictatorship. He wanted to work in politics, like his parents, and make his country a better place for people such as the Aberowen coal miners. For that he needed political meetings where people could speak their minds, and newspapers that could attack the government, and pubs where men could have arguments without looking over their shoulders to see who was listening.
Fascism threatened all that. But perhaps Fascism would fail. Walter might be able to talk Gottfried around, and prevent the Centre Party supporting the Nazis.
Heinrich came out. ‘He’ll do it.’
‘Great! Herr von Ulrich suggested the Herrenklub at one o’clock.’
‘Really? Is he a member?’
‘I assume so – why?’
‘It’s a conservative institution. I suppose he is Walter
‘I should probably book a table. Do you know where it is?’
‘Just around the corner.’ Heinrich gave Lloyd directions.
‘Shall I book for four?’
Heinrich grinned. ‘Why not? If they don’t want you and me, they can just ask us to leave.’ He went back into the room.
Lloyd left the building and walked quickly across the plaza, passing the burned-out Reichstag building, and made his way to the Herrenklub.
There were gentlemen’s clubs in London, but Lloyd had never been inside one. This place was a cross between a restaurant and a funeral parlour, he thought. Waiters in full evening dress padded about, laying silent cutlery on tables shrouded in white. A head waiter took his reservation and wrote down the name ‘von Ulrich’ as solemnly as if he were making an entry in the Book of the Dead.
He returned to the opera house. The place was getting busier and noisier, and the tension seemed higher. Lloyd heard someone say excitedly that Hitler himself would open the proceedings this afternoon by proposing the Act.
A few minutes before one, Lloyd and Walter walked across the plaza. Lloyd said: ‘Heinrich von Kessel was surprised to learn that you are a member of the Herrenklub.’
Walter nodded. ‘I was one of the founders, a decade or more ago. In those days it was the Juniklub. We got together to campaign against the Versailles Treaty. It’s become a right-wing bastion, and I’m probably the only Social Democrat, but I remain a member because it’s a useful place to meet with the enemy.’
Inside the club Walter pointed to a sleek-looking man at the bar. ‘That’s Ludwig Franck, the father of young Werner, who fought alongside us at the People’s Theatre,’ Walter said. ‘I’m sure he’s not a member here – he isn’t even German-born – but it seems he’s having lunch with his father-in-law, Count von der Helbard, the elderly man beside him. Come with me.’
They went to the bar and Walter performed introductions. Franck said to Lloyd: ‘You and my son got into quite a scrap a couple of weeks back.’
Lloyd touched the back of his head reflexively: the swelling had gone down, but the place was still painful to touch. ‘We had women to protect, sir,’ he said.
‘Nothing wrong with a bit of a punch-up,’ Franck said. ‘Does you lads good.’
Walter cut in impatiently: ‘Come on, Ludi. Busting up election meetings is bad enough, but your leader wants to completely destroy our democracy!’
‘Perhaps democracy is not the right form of government for us,’ said Franck. ‘After all, we’re not like the French or the Americans – thank God.’
‘Don’t you care about losing your freedom? Be serious!’
