The Helsinki Pact by Alex Cugia Read Free Book Online Page A

Almost the entire historic centre of what had been
known as the Florence of Germany had vanished in February 1945,
destroyed in the firestorm which the Allied bombing had
intentionally created, a raid which aroused strong emotions on all
sides.
    “Is your family still there? How
many are you?”
    “My mother moved to Leipzig and
there’s now only her and Paul, that’s my younger brother. He’s 22,
lives about half way between Dresden and Berlin. He’s had some
troubles and life isn’t easy for him right now. But what about you?
Tell me ... ”
    She was interrupted by the
arrival of two steaming cups of hot chocolate, ‘molten lava’ as
they were popularly named in the shop. Bettina insisted on
paying.
    “Thank you. But that means
dinner’s on me. I hope that’s OK, that you’re free. I know of a
place not far from here. It’s maybe not as, umm, distinctive, as
this one but the food’s very good and I’ve got to know them a bit
there, business reasons, and, well, I’d like ... ” He trailed off
and they drank their chocolate in silence.
    Thirty minutes later they were at
the Ephraim Palais, its entrance decorated with stucco angels and
gilded leaves lit by the ornate chandeliers and reflected in the
huge Baroque mirrors framed in red and gold gesso which lined the
hallway. The dominant dull red of the large oriental carpet subtly
complemented the dark green marble which it partially
hid.
    “Good evening Madame. It’s a
pleasure to see you again Mr Wundart. The table in the alcove is
ready for you.”
    As the waiter took their coats,
led the way and helped them to their seats Thomas sensed Bettina’s
resistance and mounting anger. He looked warily at her over the
spotless linen tablecloth as the waiter, having signalled someone
across the room, turned back to them.
    “Something to drink before you
eat? We’ve been fortunate to get a few more cases of that Elbthal
Weissburgunder you liked so much, Mr Wundart. Perhaps a bottle of
that?”
    Bettina’s chair crashed to the
floor she stood up in fury. Ignoring the startled glances from
other diners she dashed the contents of her water glass in Thomas’s
face and would have upended everything from the table in his lap
had he not managed to stop her fierce movements.
    “Student? Student! You bastard!
Your favourite wine! Your favourite table at East Berlin’s most
expensive restaurant! Is that how you try to impress the girls you
pick up? Booking this before you even turned up at the Museum is so
fucking sordid. How do you think that makes me feel? I’d begun to
think you were different but you’re just the same as the others –
think all you need do is flash your money and the knickers fall
off. Well, fuck you!”
    As she stormed past Thomas
grabbed her arm.
    “Bettina, please. Please sit
down. I swear you’re the only girl I’ve ever brought into this
place.” He lowered his voice. “They know me because of the
tours.”
    Bettina glared at him and shook
her arm furiously in his grip. “Let me go! You're hurting me!
Tours? What are you talking about? What tours?”
    “I show people round East Berlin,
show them the sights. I get them seats at the opera with dinner
beforehand – that’s usually here and that’s why they know me. I’m
not rich. I need money and this helps me pay for my studies and my
singing lessons. They treat me well here because I bring them
customers. That’s all. Believe me, it’s the first time I’ve ever
come privately. And I wasn’t trying to be smart or show off or
anything like that. I just thought, well, I suppose I thought we’d
both like it, the food and the atmosphere. And I wanted to be here
with you." There was a pause. "And, yes, well, yes, I guess maybe a
little bit I did want to impress you.”
    Thomas had released his grip and
during this disjointed appeal Bettina had righted her chair and
slowly sunk down on it, movements which gave Thomas some hope.
“God, let me not screw it up again, don’t let me