Chapter Three

The evening air was so cold that Ava could see her breath puff in front of her in little clouds of white. Her father walked slowly beside her, their boots clomping against the hard-packed ground, silence stretching between them as they moved further away from the house. Everything appeared barren at this time of year, as if the cold wind had stripped the surrounding area of its beauty, with the exception of the pine trees in the nearby forest. Their bare trunks stretched tall and naked but, unlike the oaks, they retained their leaves year-round.

‘Ava,' her father said, finally stopping and turning to her. ‘I believe you have something you wish to ask me.'

She took a deep breath, not sure if her face was burning from the chill in the air, or her embarrassment at being asked what had so clearly been stretching like a void between them. She opened her mouth, not saying anything for a moment as she stared back at her father. Did he truly want her to ask, or was he going to berate her for the words waiting on her lips?

‘May I speak freely?' she finally asked.

He gestured to their surroundings. ‘We can say anything here. It's one of the few places we don't have to mind our words, so please, ask me. It's why I brought you out here.'

She wondered then if that was why her father often walked after dinner with her mother, because out in the countryside, meandering through the forest, was the one place they could talk to one another without fear of someone overhearing. She'd heard rumours of listening devices being placed, but surely not in the home of someone with her father's standing in the SS?

‘What will happen if you're caught?' she asked, wrapping her arms around herself. ‘I know you took that missing paper. I saw it with my own eyes.'

‘I won't be caught.'

‘But should you be caught? For what you did?' She regretted the words the moment they passed her lips, but he'd wanted the truth from her, for her to speak her mind, and that was what she wanted to know. The conflict building inside of her was very real, and she was struggling to reconcile what she'd seen with what she knew of her father and how he usually conducted himself. She was thinking about Lina and what had been contained in the Scholl file. ‘I'm keeping your secret to keep you safe, Papa. My friend is in terrible trouble because of what you did.'

‘Whether I should be caught or not depends on which side you are on,' he said.

Her father began to walk, and she scurried to keep up with his longer stride. She worried that he was lost in anger, but when he abruptly stopped again and searched her eyes, there was no anger there that she could detect. But what had he meant when he talked of sides?

‘Ava, can I trust you?' he asked. ‘Can I trust you to keep what I did between us? Can I trust that this conversation will remain private?'

Ava knew what he was asking her: he wanted to know whether her allegiance was to the party, or to her family. If it had been anyone else, she wouldn't have trusted them, would have thought the question a trick, but her papa was speaking plainly. He was asking her to be truthful with him, and she wished he knew her well enough not to ask at all. Because no matter her confusion over what she'd seen and what he was saying to her, her allegiance was not something that needed to be questioned. Not when it came to her family.

She glanced back at the house, her stomach in knots, before reaching for his hands and holding them in hers, looking earnestly into his eyes.

‘Of course you can trust me, Papa,' she said, blinking away tears, hating that he'd even thought to doubt her intentions. ‘Of course you can. I would never betray you.'

‘Is there anything else you'd like to ask me, then?'

Ava went to open her mouth, but closed it, shaking her head instead. She wanted to ask him about Lina, but she knew she was being silly worrying so much about her. She'd done nothing wrong, so of course nothing terrible was going to happen to her, not over a misunderstanding.

The one thing she did wish she was brave enough to ask was why – the question was burning on the tip of her tongue. Why had he taken that paper? But for every part of her that did want to know, there was another that simply didn't want the truth and all that came with it; because if she knew why, then she might find that she didn't agree with what he'd done. And then she'd be in quite the predicament.

Ava hadn't been lying, she did trust her father – he'd never given her reason not to trust him implicitly – and when he extended his arm to her she curled her hand around it and held on to him, dropping her head to his shoulder. In truth, her only concern was whether or not her father could get into trouble, and if he said there would be no repercussions, then she would be satisfied with that. She had to be. She had to believe that whatever he'd done was for the right reasons.

They walked slowly back to the house arm in arm, and even though she knew no more than she had the day before, she felt lighter for having spoken to him about it. She also believed that Lina's innocence would be quickly proven. Perhaps Lina would even have her job reinstated once they'd questioned her and realised their error.

‘Mama will be wondering what's taking so long,' Ava said, smiling to herself as they neared the house.

‘I'm certain she'll be putting dinner on the table as we speak,' her father replied, opening the door and holding it for her to walk through.

The smell of roast goose wafted to them the moment they set foot inside, and Ava and her father quickly washed their hands before joining her mother and sister. It had been weeks since she'd had her mother's cooking, and her mouth was salivating by the time she reached the table.

‘Mama, this looks wonderful,' Ava said as she sat down beside her sister and eyed the feast. There was roast goose with stuffing, and potato dumplings and vegetables. It felt like such a treat after the much more basic food they'd been eating at the Berlin apartment for the past few weeks. Even though they had more than most, their father having access to food that she knew had been in very short supply for others since the last Christmas, they were still more often than not making one-pot meals.

Her father poured himself a glass of wine, and as Ava surveyed the room, she could have almost imagined they weren't at war, that it was just a regular Christmas at home with her family. She wondered what it would be like once the fighting was over, whether she'd have another holiday like this here, or whether she would be in her own marital home, or even the home of her husband's family. She also guiltily wondered what other families were eating right now, especially those in the city with only their ration cards to shop with. Her father seemed to follow Hitler's word to the letter, but he certainly hadn't shown any interest in the vegetarianism that had been suggested by their great leader, taking great pride in being able to hunt for hares or trade with the local farmers when he was home. She for one hoped that Heinrich wouldn't want to go without meat when they were married – vegetable dishes weren't her specialty, and she always found herself hungry if her plate was filled with only plants.

‘I would like to suggest a moment of silence before we eat,' her mother said, her soft voice catching as she slowly sat down in her chair after serving them all. ‘To remember the family who are not with us tonight. They are gone, but forever in our hearts, and never, ever to be forgotten.'

Ava reached for Hanna's hand, squeezing tightly as silent, fat tears slid down her sister's cheeks; as her own eyes filled with tears, too. She forgot all about her husband-to-be as she remembered her little nephew Hugo who wasn't with them, and her brother-in-law Michael who should have been seated across from her, knowing that her sister would never be able to celebrate holidays as fully as the rest of them ever again.

They all sat, silent, remembering, the pain surely as fresh for Hanna in that moment as it had been when it happened, until Papa finally lifted his wine glass and addressed them all, his own eyes glinting as he looked at each of them in turn.

‘Let them never be forgotten.'

It was only after Ava had lifted her knife and fork that she realised they'd forgotten to turn to their Führer's portrait on the wall and say their mandatory HeilHitler. It was very unlike her father to misstep in such a way, but given her sister was still in mourning, and the moment's silence they'd just shared, she decided not to mention it.