Secrets of Cavendon: A gripping historical saga full of intrigue and drama

‘Yes, why?’

‘Because I’m going that way. I’m meeting a mate at a pub in the King’s Road. So I can give you a lift. My car’s parked just down the street. Come on, let’s go.’ As he finished speaking, he picked up her overnight bag and opened the front door for her.

It was with some relief that Victoria fell into step with Declan and clung to his arm as he led her to his Morris Minor. It was parked further down in Belsize Park Gardens.

She couldn’t help hoping that Mister Phil Dayton was watching them in the mirror of his car. Then he would think she had a boyfriend and might leave her alone. No one had warned her that being a single career girl in the big city might carry this risk. But she wouldn’t give it up for the world.

TEN (#ulink_e3eabe99-a5c3-5285-bbdd-e0bab08d1b6d)

Elise Steinbrenner stood on the landing between the two attics at the top of Greta’s house. She had suddenly felt the urge to walk around it a little earlier, and now her heart and mind were flooded with memories, filling her with happiness, and also a sense of sadness as well.

She loved this warm and welcoming place. Eleven years. That was how long she had lived here in Phene Street with her older half-sister, who had received them with open arms. They had arrived on a Sunday, weary, tired and a little scared, and yet relief and joy had soon replaced these other emotions. Her father and brother and she were safe. At long last.

They had escaped Berlin and the terror of Nazi Germany by the skin of their teeth.

They were in England at last. It was the red, white and blue Union Jack on flagpoles that whirled in the wind in London, and not the German flag bearing the dreaded swastika, that symbol of danger and fear to her.

A sudden memory flashed: the Union Jack billowing above the front door of the British Embassy on the Wilhelmstrasse. It had spelled SAFETY to her, and she had always thought how ironic it was that a few buildings further along was the Reichstag, where Hitler and his cronies sat plotting their heinous deeds in their headquarters, envisioning their conquest of the world.

They had been lucky, she and her brother Kurt and their father. They were Jews. And Jews in Germany were being killed by the thousands in 1938. Their escape had somehow been secretly arranged by Lady Diedre Ingham, who worked at the War Office. She had a contact at the British Embassy in Berlin, who knew someone who knew someone else. And their escape had been cleverly and carefully planned; and once they had their valid travel documents they had been able to leave Berlin. Elise knew she would never forget the moment they had crossed into France, and finally arrived in Paris. It was a strange kind of shock to realize she was free. That her brother and her parents were free.

A small involuntary shiver ran through her as her mind filled with thoughts of her mother. Heddy Steinbrenner had not travelled with them to London in the end. She had remained in Paris. And now, as an adult, Elise knew the reason she had stayed, having gone back to Paris and Berlin in 1946, wanting to find out about her mother’s fate.

Pushing these thoughts to one side, Elise walked into the attic that her brother Kurt had called his lair. Years ago, Greta had furnished it with a desk and chair, several comfortable armchairs, bookshelves, and a chest of drawers. He had spent a lot of time in here.

Now, staring at the corkboard above the desk, Elise smiled to herself. There had always been a small Union Jack flag and a bright red poppy for Poppy Day, in remembrance of the First World War, pinned to the board. His special keepsakes. Those spots on the board were empty. Kurt had taken his flag and his poppy with him when he had left for New York to continue his medical training to be a brain surgeon at a hospital in Manhattan – New York Presbyterian.

Kurt, independent and determined by nature, had always had his sights set on what he termed ‘the new world’. He loved London, but the other shore beckoned, luring him with its modernity.

When their father had unexpectedly died from a massive heart attack in 1947, Elise had known Kurt would start making his plans. And he did. He had been gone for almost two years already.

Turning, leaving Kurt’s lair, she glanced in the other attic, which had been her brother’s bedroom, and sighed to herself. At the moment Kurt was having romantic problems, but he was far away and all she could do was offer advice …

The ringing of the doorbell cut into her reverie, and she ran downstairs to the foyer, smoothing down her dark hair. Seconds later she was greeting Victoria and Declan on the doorstep.

‘Won’t you come in for a drink?’ Elise asked the young actor, whom she’d met before. Her musical voice still had the hint of an accent, despite all her years in London.

Declan shook his head, smiled, then explained, ‘I’m running late, but another time perhaps?’ He smiled again, eyeing her appraisingly, and raised a brow.

Elise laughed. ‘Of course. Vicki will give you my number.’

Declan nodded, looking pleased, placed Victoria’s bag on the foyer floor and said his goodbyes.

Once they were alone, Victoria and Elise hugged, and then went upstairs together. Elise said, ‘I know you like the green and white trellis bedroom, so I’ve put you in there, as usual.’

‘I do like it, yes. Thank you. But you know I love the feel of this house. Greta’s a great decorator. She would have been a huge success at it.’

‘She would, but she’s dedicated to Cecily and the business.’ Pushing the guest-room door open, Elise went in, followed by Victoria, continuing, ‘Greta told me this morning that Cecily has promoted her. She is now general manager of Cecily Swann Couture, and Dottie is now joint managing director with Cecily.’

‘That’s great news!’ Victoria exclaimed. ‘I heard from Aunt Alice that Cecily will be spending most of her time at Cavendon now … because Lady Daphne has gone to Zurich, and anyway Cecily is the Countess of Mowbray.’

‘Greta’s a real career woman, you know, and I suppose we are too.’ Elise sat down in an armchair, as Victoria began to unpack her small bag. She looked thoughtful.

‘I love my job, but sometimes I think about getting married and having a family. Don’t you, Elise?’

‘Gosh, yes I do. Don’t forget, I’m twenty-eight. Quite the old maid. I should be having babies. But I can’t bear the thought of leaving the Daily Mail. My job as a reporter is important to me, but sometimes I do yearn to have a baby; I feel very broody at times …’ Elise’s voice trailed off and she shook her head. Her thoughts from earlier returned, and suddenly she found herself confiding in Victoria. ‘I’ll never really understand how a mother can abandon her children, as mine did.’

Picking up on the sorrow in Elise’s voice, Victoria turned away from the wardrobe and came and sat down in the other chair. Leaning forward, she touched Elise’s hand affectionately, and there was sympathy in her voice when she spoke. ‘It is hard to comprehend, and I must admit it baffles me, too. After your visit to Germany in 1946, I thought you seemed less troubled.’ Victoria stared at her friend. ‘Were you just putting on a good face?’

‘To a certain extent,’ Elise answered truthfully. After a moment’s reflection, she continued, ‘What I managed to find out gave me her reasons, but I realized later they did not excuse her behaviour. She was selfish.’

‘You’ve never told me about her reasons. I don’t want to pry, Elise, but I am happy to listen, if it helps you.’

‘I think it might do me good to get it off my chest. I never confided in anyone other than Papa, Kurt, and Greta, because they had a right to know.’ Her dark eyes brimmed with tears suddenly.

Victoria nodded, leaned back in the chair, giving Elise time to sort out her thoughts.

After a long silence, Elise said, ‘My mother had a childhood friend, a boy, called Heinrich Schnell. Their families lived next door to each other in Dresden. As teenagers they became very close and apparently fell in love. But my mother was Jewish and the Schnells weren’t. Actually, they were adherents of Hitler, ardent Nazis, members of the Party. And Heinrich was in the Nazi Youth movement, but he got sick and couldn’t join the army. My mother’s parents, Esther and Hans Mayer, moved away. To Berlin. Eventually, my mother met Papa, after his first wife had died in London – that was Greta’s mother. They married. I was born, and then Kurt. But at some moment, Heinrich found my mother in Berlin and they became lovers again and it never stopped. That’s why she abandoned us. She refused to come to London. Remained in Paris for a few weeks and then went back to Germany.’ Elise paused and closed her eyes for a moment, her emotions churning. She wasn’t sure she could continue.

Victoria sat very still, knowing she must give Elise a chance to gain control of her feelings. Perhaps she even regretted what she’d just told her.

After a while, Elise opened her eyes and sat up in the chair. ‘My mother finally returned to Dresden and Heinrich. He had never married. They moved in together.’ Elise let out a long sigh and shook her head. ‘He was apparently more important to her than we were. And they died together. When Dresden was consistently and heavily bombed by the Allies. And that’s the story. Most of it.’

‘I’m so sorry she left you all, her family, and in the way she did, Elise. Really so very sorry. I know how painful it must be. Things like that don’t go away. They stay inside.’

Elise nodded. ‘Finding out helped me a lot, and Kurt too. And I’m glad I went to Germany and dug up the true facts, as hard as it was to endure.’

‘That’s what you do as a reporter. Charlie has always said you’re a natural, a born journalist. You just dig till you get the facts.’

Elise smiled but it suddenly faltered when she added, ‘And guess what? Papa had suspected everything anyway. You see, he’d always known about her affair, had turned a blind eye.’

‘Everyone has always said Professor Steinbrenner was a brilliant man, and Aunt Alice once told me that a spouse usually knows when there’s hanky-panky going on.’

‘What on earth made her say that?’ Elise asked, puzzlement echoing in her voice. She stared at Victoria.

‘She was explaining something to me that happened long ago, when I was little. Nothing of real importance; nothing about you.’

‘Thank you for listening, Vicki. Confiding in you has helped me, and will continue to do so, I think. Now, let’s go down to the sitting room and you can tell me all about Declan O’Sullivan.’

Victoria jumped up and so did Elise, and they went down to the next floor of the tall, book-lined house.

The room was the width of the house, and two tall windows filled it with light. It always seemed airy and sunny because Greta had had the walls painted yellow, and silk drapes, floor length, hung at the windows. There was a polished wood floor partially covered by a large cream and yellow area rug. Several modern paintings added bright colour to the walls, and pink and pale green pillows enlivened the sofas: it was full of the vivid colours that were the fashion these days.

Victoria sat down on a sofa, and glanced around admiringly. She loved rooms full of light; dark rooms alarmed her, bringing back frightening memories.

Elise, walking over to the Queen Anne chest, asked, ‘Would you prefer lemonade, Vicki? I made some earlier and it’s very refreshing.’ Glasses, sherry and the lemonade stood on a silver tray.

‘Thanks, I’d prefer that. I’ll have something stronger with dinner.’ She watched Elise, thinking how attractive her friend looked in her red dress, with her dark wavy hair, dark brown eyes and pale complexion. She was slender, petite, but her posture was so good she appeared taller than she really was.