“She made her choice.” Gerlinde’s voice was cool, hollow. She kept staring at Margot in the hope of understanding her presence here, to decipher the entire situation and couldn’t. “What are you doing here?” she asked instead.
“Paul and I are trying to organize the first newspaper for the American sector in Berlin. As of now, Berliners have no other means of getting their news but from the grapevine. We’re hoping to create something more official for them, even if it’s only a single-page edition as of now.”
“Are you allowed to?” Even though she was addressing Margot, Gerlinde shot Morris a look of suspicion.
No former members of the Nazi Party were permitted within a walking distance of anything remotely resembling a position of influence. Out of sheer habit, her gaze fell to Margot’s lapel. She suddenly couldn’t remember if she ever saw the Party badge on it. But surely Margot used to be a Party member. She ought to have been; the Führer invited her personally to the Berghof to take photos…
At first, Margot made no reply. Instead, she threw a quick glance at Morris as well. Some silent exchange was going on between the two, which resulted in Morris nodding his encouragement to some unasked question and Margot grinning as if in relief.
“I was helping the Allies with gathering intelligence ever since Hitler came to power.” Margot’s simple explanation still came as a shock to Gerlinde.
To be sure, the rogue cinematographer and Leni Riefenstahl’s best friend was rather outspoken in her liberal views, but this? Outright treason? And in such an insolent manner? The Führer himself admired her work. He trusted her fully to allow her into his residence so often. Gerlinde felt the blood draining from her face.
“You betrayed the Führer?” It came out as a mere whisper but one of the Amis still heard it and rolled his eyes.
Margot only took her hand and held it firmly, even though Gerlinde made a move to pull it away.
“I did.” There was not a trace of guilt in Margot’s voice. If anything, some cruel, defiant pride was audible in it. “I did because it was the only right thing to do. You are too young to understand it, Gerlinde but with time, I hope you will see my reason. I know that you’ve never been one of them in the true sense of the word. I know that inwardly you’ve always rejected their worldview, no matter how much they tried to school you otherwise. You’ve always been an intelligent and ambitious girl, Gerlinde. You’ve always wanted to make something out of yourself – well, this is your chance now! You’re absolutely free to do whatever you wish with your life. The tyrant is gone now and along with him, the hateful regime that did away with everything that even slightly resembled freethinking. And yes, I am proud to say that I betrayed the dictator who only brought hatred and death to the country I loved most of all.”
Margot’s expression turned wistful.
“I’m a Berliner first and a German second, Gerlinde. I grew up in this city. You haven’t the slightest idea how free and vibrant it was before Hitler came to power and obliterated everything that made it the very heart of Europe – cosmopolitan, accepting every walk of life and every gender no matter how fluid, a home to refugees and a watering spot to the European intelligentsia. And he came and ruined it all. I never forgave him that.”
“But what am I supposed to do now?” Gerlinde’s question came out shrill and frantic, almost hysterical. She felt utterly and irreversibly betrayed by the only person she still had faith in.
Indeed, what was she to do now? A daughter of the Reich, who never knew that other, pre-Führer Berlin; who only knew one Germany – Großdeutschland – and had not the faintest idea of what to do with all this concept of freedom that Margot suddenly forced upon her, without any explanation.
She thought she could cry on an old friend’s shoulder but that friend was a stranger now, still fascinating, yet vaguely threatening and much too friendly with Morris and who knew who else worked along with the Allies and who else hadn’t been executed contrary to what the Promi had said… Gerlinde’s head began pounding. She wished to get up and leave the room but her legs had suddenly grown much too heavy. Not an ounce of strength was left in her. They had bled her white with their games.
“What are you supposed to do?” Margot’s warm palm was back on top of her head, comforting, familiar, like in the past. “For starters, have some lunch with us and then go and sleep on all that. Take a little nap. It’s a lot to take in.”
Gerlinde paced restlessly around her bedroom. During lunch and much to the Americans’ delight, Margot told stories about the long-lost world of Weimar Berlin and its dives; about the iconic Metropolis and its infamous creator Fritz Lang who taught her the basics of cinematography; about some horrible misunderstanding with Leni Riefenstahl involving Paul that later remarkably turned into the tightest friendship between the two women; and about holding Erich Maria Remarque’s hand while he, filthy drunk and devastated, was crying in the back of a limousine because the Hitlerjugend had just ruined the premiere of his film, on Goebbels’s orders. Not a word was said about Gerlinde’s father. For the first time, Gerlinde heard Tadek laugh – Margot’s husband had quite a warped sense of humor that the Pole must have liked.
To be sure, the entire affair with inviting Margot here was some elaborate trap. With infinite suspicion, Gerlinde continued to consider it, go over Margot’s anecdotes in her mind and search for hidden motives in them. But with the best will in the world, all Gerlinde could get out of them
