white organza, draping them with folds and pleats of snowy cloth, tied in at the waist with twists of gold brocade. They were, she said, to go as Goddesses of Love.
Eva had a band of winter roses in her hair. She rushed back and forth glittering with excitement while Martha waited, calm and ready, and undeniably beautiful. She had inherited Marianna’s grace, the looseness in her wrists and ankles and the soft curve of her neck. Bina, disgruntled, turned to look at herself in the mirror. ‘Under normal circumstances you wouldn’t have even been invited to this dance,’ she reminded Eva, and she cursed the unfairness of the war. Bina was sixteen and growing steadily plumper. Her round face with its round eyes and mouth displeased her. She moulded her cheeks into a more pleasing shape, pulling at her hair and pressing back her ears until she recognized a hint of her mother’s graceful features, the charm and ease that disarmed everyone she met and the line of her nose, which was responsible, so Schu-Schu had often told her, for the beguiling of Papa.
‘Oh,’ Bina wailed, giving up. ‘I look ridiculous.’
Both her sisters crowded in on either side and insisted she looked perfect. ‘Spectacular.’ Eva winked.
Bina saw her and struck out. She slapped her sister’s ear, catching her finger on the sharp stem of a rose so that a drop of blood fell onto the white bodice of her costume. Bina let out a howl of fury.
‘What is it?’ Their governess appeared, and with one short diamond snip she cut out the stain. Bina stared despondently at the hole, made almost invisible by the layers of white behind it, until Schu-Schu took a needle and a length of thread and, with tiny stitches, set out to turn the repair into a delicate satin flower.
‘Oh, Schu, why can’t you come with us?’ Eva leant against her, but she only frowned and with strong teeth bit off the thread.
‘Are you quite ready?’ Their mother stood, amused and waiting in the doorway. She ignored the bent head of the governess.
‘They’ll be right with you.’ Fräulein rose, smoothing down her skirt, and the girls jostled among themselves for a last look in the mirror.
‘I’ll be waiting,’ Marianna said, and they heard the leather of her heels tap away along the hall.
‘Did you see that dress?’ Bina scowled. ‘So out of fashion.’ And Eva agreed that red wasn’t the right colour for her at all.
‘And those earrings.’ Martha shook her head and laughed. ‘Dragging down her ears.’
Emanuel was leaning into the room. ‘But, Manu, you’re not ready!’ Eva protested, looking at the unbuttoned tunic of his uniform. But he only smiled, laughing over their heads at Schu-Schu’s attempts to twist a last curl into Bina’s hair.
‘Hurry now,’ their father called from the front door. ‘Don’t keep your mother waiting.’ And without looking back for Schu-Schu or their brother they rushed off in a froth of white.
The party jostled with old men and younger sons, boys of seventeen, dressed up as soldiers and talking of nothing else than that the war would last until the date of their next birthday. Emanuel arrived half an hour late. ‘I wanted to walk,’ he whispered, as his sisters crowded round him like a flock of doves. His face was flushed and his hair curled damply from the snow.
‘Are you freezing?’ Eva asked, but Angelika and Julika were waiting for him by the door, ‘We need your help,’ and it transpired that an artist had been brought in to arrange a tableau vivant , and Emanuel was to be its centrepiece.
‘But not everyone’s help is needed, obviously,’ Bina said, as, blushing and protesting, Emanuel was led away. Very soon Angelika reappeared and asked that Eva might come with her too. Someone small and light was needed to stand with wings and a trumpet at the top of a ladder. A curtain would be drawn below so that from the audience she would appear to be suspended in thin air.
A gasp went up from the guests
Eva had a band of winter roses in her hair. She rushed back and forth glittering with excitement while Martha waited, calm and ready, and undeniably beautiful. She had inherited Marianna’s grace, the looseness in her wrists and ankles and the soft curve of her neck. Bina, disgruntled, turned to look at herself in the mirror. ‘Under normal circumstances you wouldn’t have even been invited to this dance,’ she reminded Eva, and she cursed the unfairness of the war. Bina was sixteen and growing steadily plumper. Her round face with its round eyes and mouth displeased her. She moulded her cheeks into a more pleasing shape, pulling at her hair and pressing back her ears until she recognized a hint of her mother’s graceful features, the charm and ease that disarmed everyone she met and the line of her nose, which was responsible, so Schu-Schu had often told her, for the beguiling of Papa.
‘Oh,’ Bina wailed, giving up. ‘I look ridiculous.’
Both her sisters crowded in on either side and insisted she looked perfect. ‘Spectacular.’ Eva winked.
Bina saw her and struck out. She slapped her sister’s ear, catching her finger on the sharp stem of a rose so that a drop of blood fell onto the white bodice of her costume. Bina let out a howl of fury.
‘What is it?’ Their governess appeared, and with one short diamond snip she cut out the stain. Bina stared despondently at the hole, made almost invisible by the layers of white behind it, until Schu-Schu took a needle and a length of thread and, with tiny stitches, set out to turn the repair into a delicate satin flower.
‘Oh, Schu, why can’t you come with us?’ Eva leant against her, but she only frowned and with strong teeth bit off the thread.
‘Are you quite ready?’ Their mother stood, amused and waiting in the doorway. She ignored the bent head of the governess.
‘They’ll be right with you.’ Fräulein rose, smoothing down her skirt, and the girls jostled among themselves for a last look in the mirror.
‘I’ll be waiting,’ Marianna said, and they heard the leather of her heels tap away along the hall.
‘Did you see that dress?’ Bina scowled. ‘So out of fashion.’ And Eva agreed that red wasn’t the right colour for her at all.
‘And those earrings.’ Martha shook her head and laughed. ‘Dragging down her ears.’
Emanuel was leaning into the room. ‘But, Manu, you’re not ready!’ Eva protested, looking at the unbuttoned tunic of his uniform. But he only smiled, laughing over their heads at Schu-Schu’s attempts to twist a last curl into Bina’s hair.
‘Hurry now,’ their father called from the front door. ‘Don’t keep your mother waiting.’ And without looking back for Schu-Schu or their brother they rushed off in a froth of white.
The party jostled with old men and younger sons, boys of seventeen, dressed up as soldiers and talking of nothing else than that the war would last until the date of their next birthday. Emanuel arrived half an hour late. ‘I wanted to walk,’ he whispered, as his sisters crowded round him like a flock of doves. His face was flushed and his hair curled damply from the snow.
‘Are you freezing?’ Eva asked, but Angelika and Julika were waiting for him by the door, ‘We need your help,’ and it transpired that an artist had been brought in to arrange a tableau vivant , and Emanuel was to be its centrepiece.
‘But not everyone’s help is needed, obviously,’ Bina said, as, blushing and protesting, Emanuel was led away. Very soon Angelika reappeared and asked that Eva might come with her too. Someone small and light was needed to stand with wings and a trumpet at the top of a ladder. A curtain would be drawn below so that from the audience she would appear to be suspended in thin air.
A gasp went up from the guests
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