us sometime soon, but he's not expecting me to be able to come. He wants to sleep with you. You've not been added to his collection yet.'
Am I supposed to feel insulted or flattered?' Karin poured coffee.
'It depends what you want.'
'How about you?' She spread a roll with honey for him.
'We haven't seen each other much recently. I'll be at home more often from now on. Lore's expecting our sixth. She's a wonderful wife. And you don't need me any more, you haven't for a long time. Of course we'll still be making movies together.' He went into the bedroom to get dressed. 'Whatever way you decide, it's up to you. Goebbels can do your career a great deal of good - so think about it.'
Nadja Horn was the only person Karin trusted. Nadja would know the right thing to do. Karin parked in Breitenbachplatz and walked the few steps to the S6dwestkorso. The pressure of a bomb blast had knocked the front door of the building off its hinges. She climbed to the first floor and rang the bell. Nadja was in a negligee.
'You must forgive me arriving out of the blue. I need your advice,' said Karin.
'Come on in.' Splinters of glass sparkled on the ivory, matt-lacquered furniture in the drawing room. 'Frieda hasn't cleared up yet,' Nadja apologized. Another window gone. Even cardboard's in short supply. Would you like a sherry?' She always had some little luxury from pre-war days on hand.
'No, thank you. Listen to this.'
'So your lover Conrad Jung is not only leaving you, he's telling you who to sleep with,' Nadja Horn said dryly, summing up what she had just heard. 'Still, that's no reason to feel insulted. Don't forget why you went to bed with him in the first place.'
'You could put it a little more tactfully.'
'Be on your guard with Goebbels. He's short, he's ugly, and he's had a club foot from birth, though he makes out it's a war wound. He compensates for his inferiority complex by making new conquests. And since he's overlord of the movies too, he helps himself lavishly from the cast lists of the UfA, Terra and Tobis studios.'
'Nadja, what should I do?'
'I'd say avoid him, but don't dent his ego in the process. My friend Kurt Hoffmann is shooting a comedy in Prague. You'd be well out of the firing line there.'
A comedy? I don't want to be in some stupid comedy, I want a dramatic, modern role.'
As a blonde Germanic estate owner left to deal with the Eastern scum on her own, shooting down a few of those subhumans in cold blood?' Nadja had read the screenplay. 'The war's lost. You'll have to explain yourself later if you accept a tendentious part like that. Don't be silly. Go to Prague. I'll talk to Hoffmann.'
Karin heard a sound behind her and turned. Erik de Winter was standing in the bedroom doorway. He wore a dressing gown, and looked like one of his own drawing-room comedy characters.
'Erik?'
'I got back from Paris yesterday. General von Choltitz ordered it to be evacuated without a fight. So the most beautiful city in the world still stands. How are you, darling?' He drew her to him and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She smelled Nadja's perfume on his shoulder. All at once she knew that she was still in love with him.
'I didn't know you two had got together recently. Congratulations.'
'Recently? Did you hear that?' Nadja gave her husky stage laugh. 'We were a couple before you ever came along, my dear. With interruptions, I admit. Ultimately a change did us both good, isn't that so, Erik?' It was Nadja's little triumph over the younger woman.
'Well, I must go. Thanks for your advice, Nadja. And thank you very much for the parcel you sent. Erik.'
Her car wouldn't start. Karin tried the choke and the starter in vain. Like other outstanding figures in the world of the arts, she had the coveted red chevron on the number plate indicating that she was allowed to drive a motor vehicle.
'Hello. Fraulein, so the little miracle won't oblige!' A young man grinned at her. He was swinging himself nimbly along on two crutches: his left leg ended just
Am I supposed to feel insulted or flattered?' Karin poured coffee.
'It depends what you want.'
'How about you?' She spread a roll with honey for him.
'We haven't seen each other much recently. I'll be at home more often from now on. Lore's expecting our sixth. She's a wonderful wife. And you don't need me any more, you haven't for a long time. Of course we'll still be making movies together.' He went into the bedroom to get dressed. 'Whatever way you decide, it's up to you. Goebbels can do your career a great deal of good - so think about it.'
Nadja Horn was the only person Karin trusted. Nadja would know the right thing to do. Karin parked in Breitenbachplatz and walked the few steps to the S6dwestkorso. The pressure of a bomb blast had knocked the front door of the building off its hinges. She climbed to the first floor and rang the bell. Nadja was in a negligee.
'You must forgive me arriving out of the blue. I need your advice,' said Karin.
'Come on in.' Splinters of glass sparkled on the ivory, matt-lacquered furniture in the drawing room. 'Frieda hasn't cleared up yet,' Nadja apologized. Another window gone. Even cardboard's in short supply. Would you like a sherry?' She always had some little luxury from pre-war days on hand.
'No, thank you. Listen to this.'
'So your lover Conrad Jung is not only leaving you, he's telling you who to sleep with,' Nadja Horn said dryly, summing up what she had just heard. 'Still, that's no reason to feel insulted. Don't forget why you went to bed with him in the first place.'
'You could put it a little more tactfully.'
'Be on your guard with Goebbels. He's short, he's ugly, and he's had a club foot from birth, though he makes out it's a war wound. He compensates for his inferiority complex by making new conquests. And since he's overlord of the movies too, he helps himself lavishly from the cast lists of the UfA, Terra and Tobis studios.'
'Nadja, what should I do?'
'I'd say avoid him, but don't dent his ego in the process. My friend Kurt Hoffmann is shooting a comedy in Prague. You'd be well out of the firing line there.'
A comedy? I don't want to be in some stupid comedy, I want a dramatic, modern role.'
As a blonde Germanic estate owner left to deal with the Eastern scum on her own, shooting down a few of those subhumans in cold blood?' Nadja had read the screenplay. 'The war's lost. You'll have to explain yourself later if you accept a tendentious part like that. Don't be silly. Go to Prague. I'll talk to Hoffmann.'
Karin heard a sound behind her and turned. Erik de Winter was standing in the bedroom doorway. He wore a dressing gown, and looked like one of his own drawing-room comedy characters.
'Erik?'
'I got back from Paris yesterday. General von Choltitz ordered it to be evacuated without a fight. So the most beautiful city in the world still stands. How are you, darling?' He drew her to him and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She smelled Nadja's perfume on his shoulder. All at once she knew that she was still in love with him.
'I didn't know you two had got together recently. Congratulations.'
'Recently? Did you hear that?' Nadja gave her husky stage laugh. 'We were a couple before you ever came along, my dear. With interruptions, I admit. Ultimately a change did us both good, isn't that so, Erik?' It was Nadja's little triumph over the younger woman.
'Well, I must go. Thanks for your advice, Nadja. And thank you very much for the parcel you sent. Erik.'
Her car wouldn't start. Karin tried the choke and the starter in vain. Like other outstanding figures in the world of the arts, she had the coveted red chevron on the number plate indicating that she was allowed to drive a motor vehicle.
'Hello. Fraulein, so the little miracle won't oblige!' A young man grinned at her. He was swinging himself nimbly along on two crutches: his left leg ended just
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