Beneath a Starless Sky

‘Yes, I have,’ she replied enigmatically, not wishing to elaborate because she knew she could never compete with the other girls’ sequins and lace. Their ballgowns were probably made in Paris and their beautiful shoes in Milan. Some might even own tiaras. Her choice was limited to one, but at least she did have a gown, one made by her father. Jacob had stitched it from two different fabrics in complimentary shades of blue. No one would ever guess they were remnants from commissions he’d undertaken last year. He’d saved the leftover material to create something special for his daughter, ‘should the day ever come’, he’d told her with a gleam in his eye. So now that day had come and, as luck would have it, the gown was saved from the ravages of the workshop fire.

Helene tilted her head and nodded. ‘I can’t wait to see it,’ she said. ‘I’m sure it will be …’ She searched for the right word. ‘Interesting.’ And with that she and her little coterie walked away, talking excitedly as they went.

Lilli sighed as she reached for her coat. Perhaps she was being churlish, she told herself. Helene had been kind enough to ask her to her party and she had accepted the invitation. She’d suffered a massive disappointment, but she would just have to pick herself up and train even harder. She would dance through the pain, as Madame Eva would say, again and again, until someone with Hollywood contacts took notice of her. And in the meantime, there was this glittering ball. She thought of the music and the lights, the glitz and the glamour, and suddenly felt fortunate to be going. It would be a welcome diversion for her; take her out of herself, allow her to escape into a different, fabulous world, if only for one night. Helene’s schloss would be like the set of one of those Hollywood films that thrilled her so much. The thought suddenly cheered her and for the first time that day, there was a spring in her step.

Chapter 10

The arrival of a black Mercedes at the down-at-heel block in Geising set the neighbourhood into a frenzy. Shutters creaked. Faces appeared at windows. The matchmaker, Frau Weber, the aged widow from the top floor, and Frau Kepler both emerged from their respective apartments like figures from a Bavarian clock. The Ram soon joined them, followed by Frau Reuter, a listless child on her hip. They stood on the landing, waiting for Lilli to leave for the ball.

Inside the Sternbergs’ apartment, Jacob’s chest swelled with pride to see his only daughter looking so beautiful in the creation he’d lovingly made for her. It may not have been an extravagant gown with huge skirts made from reams of damask and organza, but his design was more modern and understated. The fabric was moulded to Lilli’s elegant figure and fell in soft drapes to the floor. The midnight-blue bodice set off her colouring and the sequinned headband he had stitched made her eyes twinkle.

Lilli had piled her dark hair up on top and Golda had presented her with a pearl pin to hold it in place. It, along with a pair of pearl droplet earrings, had once belonged to her grandmother.

‘Thank you so much, Vati,’ said Lilli, standing in front of a full-length mirror in her parents’ bedroom, smoothing the dress.

Jacob chuckled as he tugged at a strap and stood back to admire her once more. ‘You shall go to the ball, my Cinderella!’ he announced.

Golda, standing close by, clapped her hands in glee then lunged forward and cupped them round Lilli’s face.

‘My grown-up daughter,’ she cried, as if it was only yesterday that she was feeding her with a spoon.

Leon stood back from the excitement, but even he had a half-smile on his face. He was happy for his sister. ‘Beautiful,’ was all he said, but his sister knew the compliment was meant. She gave him a peck on the cheek.

At just before eight o’clock Lilli emerged onto the landing to a waiting huddle of women, all eager to see their very own princess.

‘Oh! She looks heavenly!’ gasped the Ram.

‘So elegant,’ agreed Frau Kepler, standing next to her.

‘She will make some Jewish man a good wife,’ agreed Frau Weber, shouting down from the top floor where she was propping herself up on the stair railings.

Lilli looked up to acknowledge their presence and gave them a wave, before hugging her mother.

‘And remember, Cinderella, home before midnight,’ teased Jacob, escorting his daughter down the stairs.

A beaming Herr Grunfeld opened the main entrance door for Lilli and bowed as he gestured her outside. Glancing up into the darkness, she could see the silhouettes of a few people pressed against their windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of ‘Herr Sternberg’s daughter, the ballerina’. For a moment, that same elation she had experienced just after Giselle charged through her chest. Once again, she was the centre of attention. Once again, she was about to perform.

The limousine pulled away from the apartment block just as the first flakes of winter snow began to fall. Lilli was driven out of the city and into the wooded outskirts where Schloss Urbach rose from among the dark pines at the end of a long driveway.

The snow fell thickly as the car sped through high gates, framed by two side wings, and over a bridge to the main castle beyond. Lilli knew it had been in Helene’s family for generations and was even more imposing than she’d imagined. With its turrets and gargoyles, it would not be out of place amid the pages of a Grimm story book.

The chauffeur helped Lilli from the limousine. A red carpet had been rolled out on the steps and she joined a long line of guests, mainly couples, who were filing through a magnificent studded door into a vast hallway beyond.

Gothic grandeur was all around her. It was the stuff of little girls’ dreams – and nightmares. Once more, a thousand butterflies were dancing in her stomach. This was how she’d felt before she went on stage before Giselle. Why did she always feel she was on show? This would be another performance and she felt she must dazzle. She knew she didn’t belong in Helene’s world of castles and candelabra. Her father had been joking when he’d called her Cinderella, but tonight that was who she really was: a poor girl in sophisticated, aristocratic company.

The oak-panelled walls of the cavernous space were decked with silver suits of armour, shields and swords, as well as huge portraits, but pride of place went to an enormous Christmas tree. Lilli guessed it was the height of three men and its branches sparkled with tiny candles and silver and gold ribbons.

Beyond the hall she caught a glimpse of the ballroom and heard snatches of an orchestra playing a waltz. The women reminded her of the ones she had seen in the audience at the Cuvilliés. Many of them were prim and haughty, with feathers in their hair and jewels round their wrinkling necks. They seemed to be accompanying younger women – Lilli presumed their daughters, – acting as chaperones. Lilli soon realised why when she cast her eyes about the reception and saw that there were plenty of young male guests entering the party. She assumed that they were all officers from Count Von Urbach’s division, whose barracks were nearby. Wearing the grey dress uniform of the Reichswehr, they could not fail to look at the very least, smart, and, at their very best, dashing.

As Lilli progressed towards the ballroom, marvelling at her glittering surroundings, a servant at her side cleared his throat. She was standing at the top of a short flight of shallow steps. Before her lay the ballroom; men were whirling ladies round the dance floor, while clusters of guests huddled together talking and smiling politely.

‘Your calling card, Fraulein,’ he asked, holding out a silver salver.

Lilli shot him a puzzled look. His request suddenly reminded her, once again, that she was out of place – that she neither belonged among these people, nor amid this splendour. She was the daughter of a tailor. Of course she didn’t have a calling card. Even the gown she was wearing was homemade, yet still she refused to be intimidated. Reminding herself that she, too, could put on airs and graces when necessary, she decided to prove that a Jewish girl from Geising could be every inch a lady, too. Straightening her back and lifting her chin, she simply told the servant her name. He raised a brow but a second later she heard ‘Fraulein Lilli Sternberg’ repeated in a baritone voice.

This was it. She had been announced. There was no going back now. Lifting her skirt slightly Lilli began her descent to she knew not where; she was launching herself off a cliff in the hope that someone might catch her. Fortunately, Helene was there at the bottom of the shallow steps leading down to the ballroom when she landed. The general’s daughter had obviously been looking out for Lilli and from somewhere amid the silk and taffeta confections on the dance floor she suddenly appeared. Wearing a pale pink beaded dress, with a diamond and pearl tiara on her flaxen head, Lilli was shocked by her transformation.

‘Helene, you look lovely!’ It was as if someone had waved a wand at the awkward and uncoordinated pupil of the academy and magicked her into an elegant young woman, the perfect match for a dashing young officer who would, no doubt, be promoted in double-quick time. Lilli almost envied her. Not because of her looks, but because of the way her future was mapped out clearly before her. Her journey would be comfortable and, above all, predictable. She would want for nothing in life, except, perhaps her freedom.

‘So do you,’ replied Helene, smiling serenely. ‘And your dress is very …’ She searched for a word to describe the unconventional gown. She settled on ‘different.’ And in a well-placed stroke, she succeeded in making Lilli feel inadequate. All the other women were dripping in jewels, while their gowns were incredible creations, elaborate and shimmering with huge skirts that touched the sides of doors when they walked into rooms. Her father had done his best for her, but her dress was very plain by comparison. Nevertheless, she shot back.

‘I prefer to call it fashionable,’ said Lilli, her head held high.

Helene twitched a smile and, offering Lilli her arm, she said: ‘Come, let me introduce you to some of my friends.’

The ballroom was bigger than the entire studio at the academy. Three glass chandeliers twinkled like clusters of stars from the ceiling and portraits of austere warriors adorned the walls. The same straight-backed Bavarian officers were to be found on the dance floor, too, as if they had just stepped out of the elaborate gilt frames for the evening. Some wore monocles, others regimental swords. Some both. The older men were weighed down by medals; the younger ones – it seemed to Lilli – were buoyed up by their own self-belief, or was it arrogance?

General Von Urbach was Commander-in-Chief of the Reichwehr’s Seventh Division. His father and his father before him had also been in the army in the days before the Great War. It therefore followed that his only child – his daughter – was duty-bound to marry one of his own officers to continue the long and noble tradition. Naturally only the most promising and highest-born young men were invited to the comtesse’s birthday ball. And, true to her word, Helene introduced Lilli to someone – her cousin, Captain Kurt Von Stockmar.

He was a short, broad man, who wore his fair hair shaved just above his ears to accentuate his angular jaw and made a long, fresh scar on his face even more noticeable. He clicked his heels noisily before kissing Lilli’s hand.

‘Kurt, you must meet my friend,’ she said. ‘Lilli danced the role of Giselle the other night.’

Von Stockmar raised a brow. ‘Ah, yes, Fraulein …’

‘Sternberg,’ Helene told him.

‘Sternberg,’ he repeated, narrowing his eyes. He was still smiling, an odd, slanted smile, but Lilli suspected, especially when he repeated her name once more as though it stuck in his gullet, that he balked at her Jewishness. Her heritage made her enemies wherever she went these days.

‘She is a wonderful dancer,’ continued Helene, as if Lilli were not by her side.

‘Quite so,’ Von Stockmar conceded with a nod. A fellow officer had persuaded him to watch the production. ‘A fine performance,’ he added grudgingly.

Despite the champagne – it was Lilli’s first taste of it and the bubbles made her nose tingle – the conversation remained as stiff as the captain’s army dress collar. At least Giselle formed common ground between them, she thought.

‘Fraulein Sternberg is a star of the future,’ Helene continued.

Lilli could feel her cheeks flush with embarrassment and lowered her gaze to the floor.

Von Stockmar nodded, although it was clear he lacked conviction. ‘I am sure.’

An awkward pause allowed Lilli’s eyes to meander over the sea of uniforms and gowns. It was then that she saw General Von Urbach himself approaching. He was not alone. A handsome young officer was at his side.

‘My dear,’ he addressed his daughter playfully. ‘I believe I have found one of your adoring fans – Captain Marco Zeiller.’

The soldier stood, a little sheepishly, it seemed to Lilli, at his commanding officer’s side. She’d seen him swooped upon by the general almost as soon as he’d set foot in the ballroom. Now she realised why. Helene seemed extremely eager to see the young man. From her manner it appeared they were old acquaintances.

‘Captain Zeiller,’ Helene’s whole face lit up. She held out a gloved hand. The young officer dispensed with the ubiquitous heel clicking. Instead he simply bowed, took Helene’s hand and kissed it.

Lilli looked on. There was something different about this officer, she thought. For a start he stood at least half a head taller than most of the men in the room and his dark hair, although slicked back with oil, betrayed a natural wave. His skin had a sort of golden glow to it, while all the other men’s seemed more like strudel pastry. His large eyes were brown, not blue or green like most Germans. But it was his smile that Lilli found so captivating and, judging by the blush on Helene’s normally pale face, she felt the same way.

‘At your service, Comtesse,’ he declared.

Helene, still flustered by the officer’s attentions, turned to Lilli. ‘Captain Zeiller is an admirer of the ballet,’ she explained.

It was then that the officer’s gaze locked on to Lilli. His brown eyes suddenly flared, and Lilli couldn’t help but wonder if the glint in them was because he recognised her from the ballet. His intense look sent a shock through her body.

‘Fraulein Sternberg,’ he murmured, cutting through the heat of the moment. Even the way he said her name sounded intimate.

Von Stockmar flexed his nostrils. ‘You two know each other?’

‘I don’t think …’ Lilli began. She would surely have remembered if she had been introduced to the Captain before.

‘Giselle,’ Marco said simultaneously.

‘You were at the Cuvilliés?’ she asked.

‘Your dancing was exquisite, Fraulein Sternberg.’

‘How …?’ Lilli frowned. She suddenly felt quite light-headed.

‘Your name was in the programme.’

‘A detective as well as a soldier, eh?’ remarked Von Stockmar snidely.

Captain Zeiller shrugged at the other officer’s remark and turned his attention back to Lilli, ‘But you must have been exhausted after such a demanding performance,’ he said earnestly.

‘Madame Eva, our teacher, tells us we must dance through the pain,’ Lilli replied, looking at Helene.

‘She always wants her pound of flesh,’ she agreed.

Just at that moment, a portly, older officer with bushy whiskers appeared at Helene’s side.

‘May I have this dance, dear Comtesse?’ he asked.

Lilli saw Helene’s face fall for a second before she recovered and drew her lips into a smile. ‘General Von Schwaab.’ A refusal to dance with her godfather would be taken badly, yet an expression of despair gathered on her face as her eyes flitted first to the captain then back to the elderly man. Lilli understood. It was as if Helene was sensing that in her absence, she might lose her debonair escort. Captain Zeiller was her prize and she wanted to hold onto him or face ruining her own party. She hesitated, her gaze flitting from one man to the other.

‘Come, my dear,’ Von Urbach suddenly intervened, hovering above the huddle. ‘You wouldn’t want to disappoint your godfather, surely?’

Helene forced her lips into an unnatural smile. ‘Of course not, Father,’ she replied.

‘Comtesse,’ the captain replied with a gracious bow. ‘I must surrender you, I fear.’

From Helene’s barely-disguised expression, it was obvious her parting from the young officer was agony. The look she flashed Lilli was a warning shot. It told her to stay away from him until her return, but it was in vain. The fight for Captain Zeiller’s attention was over before it had ever begun.

Lilli watched Helene take the old general’s arm and throw another anguished look back at her gallant soldier. When Lilli turned again, she saw Captain Zeiller’s focus was already on her. She threw him a nervous smile, which he returned. He was looking at her very differently from how he had regarded Helene. His presence seemed to fill a vacuum that their hostess had created. Lilli turned her head, not knowing how to react, but there was something exciting about him that drew her to him. It was as if he understood just how she was feeling. Yet, instead of being unsettling, his gaze seemed to stir something inside her. She looked back and in that moment a connection was made. Given oxygen to breathe, the smouldering spark would most surely flare into life.

Chapter 11

Now there were the three of them – Lilli, Marco and Von Stockmar – on the edge of the ballroom floor. All around, guests were making idle chatter, sipping champagne, enjoying each other’s company. Before Captain Zeiller’s arrival, it had seemed as if Lilli had landed on some distant shore and been told to leave immediately by its inhabitants. Now, however, in his presence, she felt different. Yet still she felt something wasn’t right. A charged silence had suddenly settled between the two men, as if they were both poised to say something.

Von Stockmar broke first, firing a comment at his fellow officer that came with the anger of an accusation.

‘You never mentioned you knew my cousin.’

Marco, unruffled, replied: ‘I didn’t. We were introduced at Giselle.’

‘Then you obviously made quite an impression on her.’ He was watching Helene dance stiffly with her godfather, throwing anxious glances back their way at every turn.

Marco smiled and shrugged. ‘I feel very fortunate to be invited to the comtesse’s ball.’ As he spoke, he caught Lilli’s eye, making plain the reason he thought his fortune had changed – for the better.

Von Stockmar also caught his fellow officer’s expression.

‘I’m clearly making this a crowd,’ he announced, shooting a baleful look at Marco.

Lilli felt the colour bloom in her neck. She found the remark awkward, but Marco reacted decisively.

‘We can’t have you feeling out of place,’ he said to Von Stockmar, slapping his fellow officer lightly on the back. ‘We shall leave you in peace,’ he continued and, turning to Lilli, he offered her his arm. ‘Would you do me the honour, Miss Sternberg?’

Von Stockmar’s eyes now narrowed as Lilli tilted her head and silently took Marco’s arm, her stomach fluttering at his touch.

‘Excuse us,’ said the captain confidently, but just as he passed, Von Stockmar grabbed his other arm and leaned towards his ear.

‘You do know she’s Jewish,’ he whispered from the side of his mouth.

Marco leaned back and forced a smile. ‘Thank you, my friend. I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening, too,’ he replied, a guileless expression on his face.

‘Is everything all right?’ asked Lilli, aware that words had passed between the two men.

‘Everything is just wonderful,’ Marco reassured her as he escorted her onto the ballroom floor, leaving Von Stockmar quietly seething on the side lines.

Strauss played and they danced three waltzes in succession. There was little chance to talk above the music so they simply smiled at each other as they whirled around the ballroom floor. At the end of the third dance another officer asked Lilli to mark her card for him. But she didn’t have a card and Marco told him that she was fully engaged for the whole evening. She opened her mouth to protest, but thought better of it. She felt comfortable with him and suddenly found herself reluctant to dance with anyone else.

Marco was light on his feet and whisked her effortlessly around the ballroom floor. To her delight, he was particularly good at the polka and she heard herself laughing at being spun around like a top. Afterwards they stood to one side, recovering their composure as a liveried servant offered them Champagne.

‘You dance well, Captain,’ Lilli said, taking a tentative sip from her glass, the bubbles still tickling her nose.

‘I was partnered by the best,’ he replied. ‘Ballroom as well as ballet. Is there no end to your dancing talent?’ he added playfully, raising his glass to her in a toast. ‘To Giselle.’

‘Giselle,’ she said.

As they stood surveying the rest of the dancers, Lilli caught sight of Helene, still playing the bountiful hostess, conversing with an elderly couple. She almost felt guilty that Marco had chosen her over the general’s daughter. Almost.

‘So what do you plan to perform next?’ he asked her, drawing her back to him.

Lilli gave a little shrug. After Giselle she’d been so hopeful of being scooped up by the talent scout and making a new life in America that she hadn’t given any thought to her future in Munich.

‘I shall remain at the academy as long as I can,’ she heard herself saying, even though the notion depressed her. The idea of working even more hours at the cinema to pay the fees was doubly disheartening.

‘So, you plan to dance professionally?’

‘Yes,’ replied Lilli. ‘But not ballet.’

‘Oh?’

The Champagne was emboldening her. ‘I want to dance in musicals. In the movies.’

Marco’s eyebrows lifted. ‘The movies? Of course, yes. That’s what they call films in America, isn’t it? They have sound now, too, don’t they?

‘Yes. Talkies,’ she said and they both laughed simultaneously.

‘I said you were a star. You could be a talking movie star!’ He was beaming broadly.

Lilli laughed again. She had never met someone who had such an effect on her before. Or was it the Champagne? ‘That is my dream,’ she told him, feeling as if anything were possible in his company.

Suddenly Marco was serious again. ‘Dreams can come true,’ he told her. ‘But you have to be willing to pay the price to make them happen.’

Lilli knew he was right, even though she detected a slight bitterness behind his comment, as if he, too, had once had dreams that remained unfulfilled. Unsaid words suddenly crowded into her chest. The unexpected delight of finding someone who understood her, was even more intoxicating than the Champagne.

Now and again as they stood talking a guest would approach, wanting to engage Marco in conversation. Whenever they were interrupted, he showed himself to be good at small talk.

‘A pleasure to see you, Frau Rath.’ ‘I trust your children are well, Comtesse Von Schell.’ He made the right polite enquiries about sons and daughters, or postings in the case of his younger friends. He was charming and courteous, introducing Lilli to everyone as a prima ballerina, which although true in part, was certainly not the whole truth.

‘I am a ballet student,’ she reprimanded him gently when they had a minute to themselves.

He shook his head and smiled. ‘You are a star,’ he told her, then added: ‘In my eyes, anyway.’

She tapped him playfully on the arm. Her first glass of Champagne had gone straight to her head and she suddenly realised that perhaps she was being too forward. She’d heard of men like this captain before: charming and debonair, yet devious. They would declare undying love, take advantage of a girl then discard her like a plaything. And yet, something was telling her that Marco wasn’t like that. True, there was bravado in his smile, and his flirting was outrageous, but behind the façade lay something else, something deeper, and it was drawing her further into his orbit.