Page 19 of Love in the Shadows

CHRISTMAS EVE WOULDN’T BE the same without a tree. The smell of fresh pine would evoke fond memories of Christmases past that would make them laugh, and, if only momentarily, forget the war.

Fabienne had cut down two small pine trees she’d found deep in the forest, putting the smaller one in the cottage living room and leaving Nancy to fix a few candles to the branches while they finished their duties at the house. She dragged the larger tree across the yard through the snow and into the kommandant’s kitchen.

As she lifted the tree to stand it upright, snow fell from its pines. “What do you think?” she asked Mamie.

Mamie dried her hands and eased a couple of the branches down. “With a bit of shaping, it will be perfect.”

Astrid came into the kitchen, Lakritze at her heels. He launched himself at the tree, and Astrid laughed. “Wow, it’s huge.”

The tree could fit through a doorway so it wasn’t that big, and it was quite spindly, but it was the best Fabienne could find without traipsing for hours, and it was better than nothing.

Astrid ran her fingers through the pine needles. “It’s real and it’s beautiful.”

Frau Neumann entered the kitchen. Seeing the tree, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkled. “Oh, how lovely.”

Fabienne smiled inwardly at Frau Neumann’s genuine happiness. If the magic of Christmas Eve didn’t lift their spirits, she wasn’t sure anything could. “We don’t have any decorations, I’m afraid. Just a few bits of candle for the holders. Where would you like me to put it?”

Frau Neumann looked at her daughter. “What do you think, Astrid? In the dining room?”

Astrid toyed with the lower branches, sniffed her fingers and nodded. “It smells strong, and like fresh air.”

“I just cut it,” Fabienne said. She’d hoped to have had the time to find a tree earlier in the month so they could enjoy the build-up to Christmas for longer, but Müller had given them additional cleaning tasks and unnecessary repairs to do, just for the hell of it.

“And it’s still got snow on it,” Astrid said. She plucked a small clump from a branch and ate it and brushed off the remaining flakes.

Frau Neumann laughed. “It hasn’t anymore.”

Fabienne dragged the tree through to the living room and lay it on the floor to the left of the piano, closer to the foyer, in the corner of the room. “I’ll go and fill a bucket with soil to stand it in.”

“What about the snow?” Frau Neumann said.

Fabienne planned to get a mix of soil, manure and stones from inside one of the cow sheds where the earth wasn’t as hard. “I’ll have to dig down deeper,” she said, enjoying the tease. She couldn’t tell whether Frau Neumann thought she was slightly, amusingly bonkers, or if it was a look of admiration that showed in her eyes. Christmas was Fabienne’s favourite time of the year, and she was high with anticipation of the gift she planned for Nancy that she’d wrestled with for the last couple of weeks.

Watching Astrid having fun with Lakritze now reinforced that she’d made the right decision.

She’d been monitoring the new litter of kittens with tortoiseshell-coloured fur and big green eyes, that had been born late in November. There had been six at the start and now there were two. The winter would probably have taken them as well if she hadn’t rescued them. She had put them in the empty woodshed with a bowl of milk and blanket and made up a litter tray. She was excited, and hoped Nancy would be too.

The war wasn’t going to get in the way of them making the most out of this one special day, as they had tried to do every year since it had started. The first year had been the hardest without their parents, but Fabienne had made a promise to herself and to their memory to celebrate the occasion as best they could, no matter what. She had managed to get hold of a small joint of meat, more bone than flesh, in exchange for eight eggs and some potatoes and a chunk of cheese from the cave. They would have the finest meal of the year and raise a toast to their good fortune. Because, even though it wasn’t a lot, it was more than most people had.

Frau Neumann, who had been staring at Fabienne, turned to Astrid. “How about a hot chocolate to celebrate Christmas Eve?”

Astrid squealed excitedly and sat next to the tree, while Lakritze dove onto the middle of it and pawed at the pine needles. She started to play a game with him, making the branches move so he attacked them.

Johanna went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine and made Astrid her drink. Warmed by Fraulein Brun’s kindness, she watched her go back out into the snow for them. She had done more than Gerhard to make Astrid’s Christmas memorable, and Johanna wished she could invite both Frenchwomen to stay for a drink with her. God knew, she was desperate for the company and, especially at this time of year, missing her family and friends.

She’d loved Christmastime as a child, and in Berlin with her own children when Ralf was a young boy and Astrid a baby. Singing songs around the log fire while drinking mulled wine and eating stollen, stockings hanging from the chimney waiting to be filled, children’s laughter, and dozens of presents under the tree. It was magical. The image reminded her of her mother, who she hadn’t heard from since moving here. She should write her a letter, if only to tell her she was still alive, and hope for the same in response.

She took their drinks into the dining room with a heavy heart.

“Will you play the piano, Mutter?”

She shook her head and handed Astrid the chocolate drink. “I’m tired, my darling.” It was an excuse and she hated herself for making it. She’d been obligated to play at social events in Berlin to show her allegiance to the Reich but privately, if she wasn’t allowed to play what she wanted, she had no desire to play at all.

“But you don’t play anymore.” Astrid gulped down the drink until the cup was empty.

Astrid didn’t push Johanna any further, but Johanna couldn’t stand being the source of Astrid’s disappointment. She was doing her daughter a disservice by not immersing herself in something that had previously given her such pleasure. She had to set a positive example of female strength, so that Astrid would grow up with the confidence to take on the world. Perhaps it would do Johanna good to rediscover some form of normality too, as Astrid had found with Lakritze.

She went to the piano and sat, allowing her fingers to be her guide. One of the joys of music was that even if the lyrics to a song were changed, as the Reich had done to so many, the scores themselves were not. She could imagine the old lyrics rather than the doctored version. She wouldn’t sing because that would give her away. She played “Silent Night” and then “O Tannenbaum”.