Chapters (77)
- Cover
- PEOPLE LIKE US
- Copyright
- Contents
- Praise for People Like Us
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Prologue
- Summer 1929
- Part I
- 7 August 1933
- 17 September 1933
- 8 October 1933
- 11 October 1933
- 10 February 1934
- 11 February 1934
- 20 April 1934
- 19 August 1934
- 10 September 1934
- Part II
- 31 May 1937
- 25 July 1937
- 3 August 1937
- 7 August 1937
- 8 August 1937
- 8 September 1937
- 19 September 1937
- 20 September 1937
- 25 September 1937
- 10 October 1937
- 12 October 1937
- 14 October 1937
- 3 November 1937
- 19 December 1937
- 20 December 1937
- 21 December 1937
- 29 January 1938
- 10 February 1938
- 13 May 1938
- 7 October 1938
- 8 October 1938
- 12 October 1938
- 23 October 1938
- 3 November 1938
- 7 November 1938
- 8 November 1938
- 9 November 1938
- 10 November 1938
- 17 November 1938
- 22 November 1938
- 23 November 1938
- Part III
- 20 December 1938
- 31 December 1938
- 7 January 1939
- 4 February 1939
- 5 February 1939
- 1 March 1939
- 15 March 1939
- 16 March 1939
- 11 April 1939
- 16 April 1939
- 19 April 1939
- 10 May 1939
- 20 May 1939
- 23 May 1939
- 31 May 1939
- 24 July 1939
- 1 August 1939
- 18 August 1939
- Epilogue
- June 1994
- Summer 1995
- A Note from the Author
- Acknowledgements
- About the Author
- An Invitation from the Publisher
‘You look…’ He pauses and takes my hands as his eyes flicker over my face, down to my chest and back to my face. ‘Radiant,’ he says. He raises my hand to his lips and winks at me. My guts curdle.
‘Now, you remember my mother, Hetty?’ he says, guiding me towards her. She is a tall woman, strongly built, with cropped greying hair. A dark blue dress hangs awkwardly over her frame, as though neither the dress, nor she, are truly comfortable with the arrangement. In her face is the hard grit which has helped her and her seven fatherless children survive.
‘So lovely to see you again.’ I try to smile, but her expression is like a blast of icy air. I glance up at Tomas. He has never once invited me to meet with her. Clearly, this was a mistake. Perhaps I should have insisted, but I’d been so wrapped up in myself it hadn’t occurred to me.
‘Well, here we are.’ She looks me up and down. ‘It’s a serious thing, marriage, you know,’ she says. ‘Children. A responsibility.’
‘Yes, and we’re prepared for that, aren’t we, Tomas?’ I grip his hand tightly.
‘Of course,’ he agrees smoothly. ‘I’ve told you, Mutti, Hetty is going to make me a perfect wife and mother to my children. She’s a natural.’
She makes a noise. Something between a snort and a cough. ‘It’ll be a different life to what you’ve been used to,’ she says to me, narrowing her eyes. ‘When you’ve not got maids and cooks and nursemaids to do the daily grind. When you’re up all hours of the night with a crying baby and an ailing child and you still have to get breakfast on the table in the morning, scrub all the floors, make the beds, launder the clothes, buy the food… Without much money if you’ve a husband with a taste for beer.’ She stops to take a breath. ‘Well, then. The romance tends to go out of it.’
I shrink from the bitterness of her words and Tomas puts a protective arm around my shoulders.
‘I shan’t let Hetty have a life like that. She knows I’ve got ambition. She knows that life is a thing of the past in our new German Reich.’
‘Huh, that’s what you all think, you fools. The young always believe they’re going to change the world.’ She gives a bitter laugh. ‘But they never do. And you lot won’t be any different. False promises, and you’ve bought them all.’
Tomas’s jaw is set. ‘Just remember who you speak with.’
‘Oh, I do, Tomas.’ She stares back at him. ‘Do you think I could ever forget? The ones who stole my husband and sent him to his death—’