The Winter Garden (2014) by Jane Thynne Page B

suggest?’
    ‘Secrecy.’
    ‘A sin or a virtue?’
    ‘A virtue, definitely.’
    While Diana’s bright laugh glittered out, Goebbels was glowering. He was refusing to join in the joke. It might be that he detested this kind of English party game, but more likely he
suspected in his guests’ banter some humorous reference to his love affair with Lída Baarová. What had Albert said?
    ‘He’s really smitten this time. They say he’s contemplating divorce.’
    His expression set, Goebbels turned his attention to the Englishman.
    ‘On the subject of virtue, Captain Sommers, I have a complaint to make about your English newspapers. They are constantly handing out lectures on our morality, like some dried-up old
governess scolding away at our young Reich. Tell me, are you happy for them to continue spouting their lies or are you going to put them right?’
    ‘I’m afraid you overestimate my influence on the denizens of Fleet Street, Herr Doktor,’ Sommers replied pleasantly. ‘Though I’m surprised you find them
uncongenial. Surely many British newspapers are supportive of the National Socialists? Wasn’t Lord Rothermere insisting the other day that Adolf the Great will soon be as popular in Britain
as Frederick the Great? And as far as I’m concerned, the faster Britain realizes her interests lie in a close association with the German Reich, the better.’
    He nodded to Clara and extended a hand. A small silver swastika glinted in his lapel.
    ‘Ralph Sommers.’ At the touch of his hand a shiver ran through her.
    Goebbels waved grandly in Clara’s direction. ‘Captain Sommers, this is Fräulein Clara Vine. She represents the perfect union of our two great nations. Her father, Sir Ronald
Vine, is English, and her mother was German. She may look a little English on the outside, but I think we have won the battle for her heart.’
    Sommers’ eyes swept over her speculatively. ‘I’m pleased to hear it. I only wish some of the people back home would follow her example. Stop talking about war and start
thinking more about what our two people have in common.’ He nodded at Clara. ‘Don’t you agree?’
    ‘Of course.’
    ‘We are two ancient Aryan races, who should be united in friendship. We stem from the same blood. Our royal family speaks German as a mother tongue. We have a common enemy in the
Bolshevik. There seems to me no reason why Britain and Germany should not form one of the great alliances of the modern world.’
    Clara didn’t need to ask what a man like Captain Sommers was doing in Berlin. The city was full of people like him. English socialites enamoured of the new regime, infatuated with the
marches and the banners and the upstanding ranks of the Hitler Youth. Though his eyes were a little tired and his face shadowed with stubble, Ralph Sommers exuded the same, unmistakeable confidence
she recognized from the men her sister knew, men from the most privileged ranks of society, the sleek products of public schools who felt the world was at their feet. Given his mention of Lord
Rothermere, he was no doubt another of the press baron’s associates, determined to befriend Hitler and bent on an alliance with Germany. She wondered what Sommers assumed of her. That she was
one of those girls who hung around Nazis because they liked the uniform and the proximity to power? Clara reminded herself how important it was to be careful with other English people. They could
spot mistakes that the Germans ignored. They could sense falsity.
    ‘So what brings you here, Captain Sommers?’
    ‘I run a small aeronautical research and sales company. Offices in Conduit Street. Here . . .’ He reached into his pocket and drew out a gold business-card holder. ‘Take my
card. I’m over on business actually, but I took the opportunity to motor down to Nuremberg for the Parteitag and I have to agree, it was an absolutely tremendous show. It quite takes the
breath away. While I was there, the Frau Doktor