was amazed it survived.
33
Lainz Zoo, Vienna. 27 June 1944.
HELENA SAT ALONE IN THE BACK SEAT OF ANDRÉ
Brockhard’s black Mercedes. The car pitched
gently between the large horse-chestnut trees lining
both sides of the avenue. They were on their way
to the stables at Lainz Zoo.
She looked out on to the green clearings. A cloud
of dust rose behind them from the dry gravel track,
and even with the window open it was almost
unbearably hot in the car.
A herd of horses grazing in the shade from the
edge of a beech wood raised their heads as the car
passed.
Helena loved Lainz Zoo. Before the war she had
often spent her Sundays in the large wooded area
to the south of the Vienna Woods, picnicking with
her parents, aunts and uncles or riding with her
friends.
Early this morning when the hospital matron
passed on a message to her that André Brockhard
wanted to talk to her she had been prepared for
everything and anything. He was going to send a
car before lunch. Ever since she had received the
recommendation from the hospital and her travel
permit, she had been walking on cloud nine and the
first thing she thought was that she would use the
opportunity to thank Christopher’s father for the
help the governing board had given her. Her
second thought was that it was hardly likely that
André Brockhard had summoned her to receive her
gratitude.
Calm down, Helena, she said to herself. They
can’t stop us now. Early tomorrow morning we’ll
be gone.
The day before she had packed some clothes and
her treasured belongings into two suitcases. The
crucifix over her bed was the last thing she put into
her case. The music box her father had bought her
was still on the dressing-table. Things she had
never believed she would part with lightly; it was
strange how little they meant now. Beatrice had
helped her and they had talked about old times as
they listened to Mother’s pacing of the floor
beneath them. It was going to be an awkward,
difficult parting. Now she was only looking
forward to the evening. Uriah had said it would be
a terrible shame if he didn’t see anything of Vienna
before leaving, so he had invited her out to dinner.
Where, she didn’t know. He had simply winked
confidentially and asked if she thought they would
be able to borrow the forester’s car.
‘Here we are, Fräulein Lang,’ the chauffeur said,
pointing to the fountain where the avenue came to
an end. A gilt cupid balanced on one leg atop a
soapstone globe over the water. A large mansion
in grey stone stood behind it. Connected to the two
sides of the main house were long, low, red
wooden buildings which together with a simple
stone house formed an inner courtyard.
The chauffeur stopped the car, got out and opened
the door for Helena.
André Brockhard had been standing on the front
steps of the mansion. Now he came towards them,
his shiny riding boots glinting in the sun. André
Brockhard was in his mid-fifties, but there was as
much spring in his step as in a young man’s. He
had unbuttoned his red woollen jacket, fully aware
that his athletic upper torso would thus be seen to
its advantage. His riding breeches were tight
against muscular thighs. Brockhard Snr could
hardly have been less like his son.
‘Helena!’ The voice was precisely as hearty and
warm as it is with men who are so powerful that
they are the ones who determine when a situation
is going to be hearty and warm. It was a long time
since she had seen him, but he looked as he always
did, Helena thought: white-haired, erect, two blue
eyes looking at her from either side of a large,
majestic nose. The heart-shaped mouth did suggest
that the man had a softer side, but for most this was
something that still had to be proved.
‘How is your mother? I do hope it was not too
impertinent of me to take you away from your work
like this,’ he said, passing his hand to her for a
brief, dry handshake. He continued without waiting
for an answer.
‘I had to have a word with you, and I thought it
couldn’t wait.’ He motioned towards the house.
‘Yes, you’ve been here before.’
‘No,’ Helena said, peering up at him with a
smile.
‘No? I assumed Christopher would have brought
you here. You were as thick as thieves when you
were younger.’
‘Your memory must be playing tricks on you,
Herr Brockhard. Christopher and I knew each
other well enough, but —’
‘Really? In that case I’ll have to show you
around. Let’s go down to the stables.’
He placed a hand lightly against the middle of her
back and steered her in the direction of the wooden