‘A little. Stop laughing,’ she sniggered. ‘Beatrice
is Hungarian, and she used to sing to me. It’s all
about forgotten heroes and ideals.’
‘Forgotten.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘As this war
will be one day.’
A waiter had arrived unobtrusively at their table
and coughed discreetly to signal his presence.
‘ Meine Herrschaften, are you ready to order?’
‘I think so,’ Uriah said. ‘What would you
recommend today?’
‘ Hähnchen.’
‘Chicken. Sounds good. Could you choose a good
wine for us? Helena?’
Helena’s eyes scanned the list.
‘Why are there no prices?’ she asked.
‘War, Fräulein. They vary from day to day.’
‘And what does Hähnchen cost?’
‘Fifty schillings.’
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Uriah
blanch.
‘Goulash soup,’ she said. ‘We have already eaten
today, and I hear that your Hungarian dishes are
very good. Wouldn’t you like to try it too, Uriah?
Two dinners in one day is not healthy.’
‘I . . . ,’ Uriah began.
‘And a light wine,’ Helena said.
‘Two goulash soups and a light wine?’ the waiter
asked with a raised eyebrow.
‘I’m sure you understand what I mean,’ she gave
him the menu and a beaming smile, ‘waiter.’
She and Uriah held each other’s gaze until the
waiter had disappeared behind the kitchen door,
then they began to giggle.
‘You’re crazy,’ he laughed.
‘Me? It wasn’t me who booked Zu den drei
Husaren with less than fifty schillings in my
pocket!’
He pulled out a handkerchief and leaned across
the table. ‘Do you know what, Fräulein Lang?’ he
said while drying her tears of laughter. ‘I love you.
I really do.’
At that moment the air-raid siren sounded.
When Helena thought back to that evening she
always had to ask herself how accurately she
remembered it; whether the bombs fell as close as
she recalled, whether everyone had turned round
as they walked up the aisle in the Stephansdom.
Even though their last night in Vienna remained
veiled in unreality, on cold days it didn’t stop her
warming her heart on the memory. And she could
think about the same tiny moment that summer’s
night and one day it would evoke laughter and the
next tears, without her ever understanding why.
When the air-raid siren sounded, all other sounds
died. For a second the whole restaurant seemed to
be frozen in time, then the first curses resounded
beneath the gilt vaulted ceiling.
‘ Hunde! ’
‘ Scheiße! It’s only eight o’clock.’
Uriah shook his head.
‘The English must be out of their minds,’ he said.
‘It’s not even dark yet.’
The waiters instantly busied themselves at the
tables while the head waiter shouted curt orders to
the diners.
‘Look,’ Helena said. ‘Soon this restaurant will be
in ruins too and all they are interested in is getting
customers to settle their bills before they run for
cover.’
A man in a dark suit jumped up on to the podium
where the orchestra was packing away its
instruments.
‘Listen!’ he shouted. ‘All those who have settled
their bills are requested to make their way
immediately to the nearest shelter, to the
underground near Weihburggasse 20. Please be
quiet and listen! Turn right when you leave and
then walk two hundred metres. Look for the men
with red armbands. They’ll show you where to go.
And stay calm. The planes won’t be here for a
while yet.’
At that moment they heard the boom of the first
bombs falling. The man on the podium tried to say
something else, but the voices and screams
drowned him out. He gave up, crossed himself,
jumped down and made for the shelter.
There was a rush for the exit where a crowd of
terrified people had already gathered. A woman
was standing in the cloakroom screaming, ‘ Mein
Regenschirm! – my umbrella!’ But the cloakroom
attendants were nowhere to be seen. More booms,
closer this time. Helena looked over at the
abandoned table next to them where two half-full
glasses of wine rattled against each other as the
whole room vibrated in a loud two-part harmony.
A couple of young women with a merry walrus-
like man in tow were on their way towards the
exit. His shirt had ridden up and a beatific smile
played around his lips.
Within minutes the restaurant was deserted and an
eery silence fell over the place. All they could
hear was low sobs from the cloakroom, where the
woman had stopped shouting for her umbrella and