to guests at the Berghof but still insisted on sniffing me. Eva stood before me, looking bored and out of sorts; she wore a dark blue bellflower skirt with a matching bolero jacket. I admired the diamond-encrusted bracelet on her left wrist.
‘The Führer gave me this.’ Eva jangled the bracelet and laughed casually; however, there was no humor in her voice. She leaned down as if to whisper in my ear. ‘If you promise not to tell anyone, I’ll let you in on a secret.’
I was astounded at her intimacy with me – someone she barely knew. I didn’t know what to make of it. She must have been lonely and in need of a friend. Cook and others in the kitchen had hinted at Eva’s personality. Somewhat flighty, haughty when she needed to be, entitled, but also flirty and fun with her friends. Because I’d had so little contact with her, I wanted to make up my own mind.
‘What’s your name?’ she asked.
‘Magda Ritter.’
She continued her conversation, asking me where I was born, questioning me about my parents, my schooling and how I came to work at the Berghof.
I answered everything truthfully. She shook my hand, but didn’t give her name. Obviously, I was expected to know who she was.
She studied me with her blue eyes. ‘I’ve seen you in the kitchen. What do you do?’
‘I’m a taster for the Führer.’
She beamed like a benevolent member of the clergy. ‘Ah, a wonderful position. You are protecting the life of the most important man in the world. You don’t know how he depends on his staff to guide him through these terrible times.’
I smiled because she knew so little of me and tasting. No matter how magnificent the meal, you wondered if it was your last. ‘I would never expect the Führer to know who we are.’
‘Of course he does. People like you lift him above the fray. If there was any threat to the Berghof, he would be the first to throw himself at the enemy. He would protect his staff until all danger had vanished.’
I nodded, uncertain of what she was getting at, but clearly Eva wanted to paint him as a kind and congenial man. Cook had told me stories about his loving interactions with Blondi, his dog, his fond dealings with Speer’s children and Eva’s guests. His closest associates believed the Führer could do no wrong.
Eva knelt in front of me and patted the Scotties. They sat patiently at her feet during our conversation. ‘Why are you reading here?’
‘Because my roommate is in no mood for company.’
She turned her attention from the dogs and put her hand upon mine. ‘I know how you feel. The Führer often ignores me, sometimes for days at a time, because he is so busy. When he leaves for other parts of the Reich, I go to my little house in Munich. Life can be lonely and boring there, too.’
It was hard for me to feel sorry for her with the world at her feet while others suffered, but I sensed that even as wealth and power lay within her reach she wasn’t happy. Her dejected expression added to her sudden melancholy mood.
‘Well, I’ve said too much and I need to get ready for the reception this afternoon,’ she said. ‘You will be going? If so, I hope you enjoy the dress I provided.’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘it was nice of you to do so.’ I studied her clothes. ‘You look beautiful now. Why would you change?’
She rose to her feet and the dogs jumped up as well. ‘It’s one of the few pleasures I have. Dresses, makeup and jewelry. When I look beautiful, he is happy.’
She walked away and I called out, ‘What about the secret you were going to tell me?’ I regretted my silly words as soon as they left my lips.
Eva turned, her skirt swirling around her. ‘But I’ve already told you. I’ll see you later.’ She took a few steps and faced me again. ‘Why don’t you read in the sunroom? No one’s there and you shouldn’t be disturbed. If anyone asks, tell them I gave you permission.’
I thanked her and watched as she disappeared down the hall with the dogs at her feet. The companion of the most powerful man in Europe was lonely – that was her ‘secret.’
I walked to the sunroom, which was pleasant for reading even though its namesake was hidden by the clouds. It was in the original part of the old house and was furnished with lounge armchairs, a table and four rather uncomfortable slat-back chairs. I sat in one of the plush armchairs and spent most of my time looking out the wide picture window rather than concentrating on my poetry. Even though Eva said I could be there, I felt out of place on this side of the Berghof, away from my quarters.
In mid-afternoon, I returned to my room. Ursula was gone. I put on my costume and looked in the small mirror attached to the wall. There was nothing glamorous about me; in fact, I felt like a clown in an outfit that would be ridiculed outside of a beer hall. But Eva had ordered it and I felt compelled to comply. My costume didn’t include an apron. Karl rang my room about three and said he was on his way to the Teahouse and would see me there about four. Hitler was notorious for missing appointments. We expected it might be five before he even showed up.
Several members of the kitchen staff joined me when it came time to leave. Our mood was light and jovial. We even stopped at the overlook, but the valley was obscured by clouds, so there was little to see.
Gradually, the Teahouse came into view out of the mist like something from a fairy tale. Nazi flags and bunting festooned its turret, and a banner above the door proclaimed: Thank You for Your Service.
Inside, candles lit the room and a cheery fire in the hearth chased the damp away. Most of the kitchen staff were gathered inside and sat around a few small tables. The massive one with the view of the mountains was reserved for Hitler and his guests. Bavarian crèmes, cookies and apple cake, the Führer’s favorite, were displayed on fine china. Orderlies stood ready to serve the treats to the crowd. Fine champagne sat in ice buckets at each table within easy reach of the guests.
Karl observed the crowd from the kitchen entrance. Ursula was nowhere to be seen. I wondered how we could all cram inside the Teahouse. If it became too crowded, I decided, I would join Karl in the kitchen.
Franz Faber, the young officer Ursula disappeared with the night we went for a walk to the SS barracks, joined Karl. They talked for a time until Karl saw me. He left Franz and, sporting a broad grin, whispered in my ear, ‘You look rather silly.’
I scowled and then laughed. ‘I agree. I’ll be upset if Eva and Hoffmann are not here with their cameras.’ I looked around the room. ‘Have you seen Ursula?’
‘She’s making tea.’
I glanced through the turret windows. There was no sign of Hitler, Eva or their guests. The rain had let up, so Karl and I walked outside and stood near the steps leading to the entrance, stealing a few moments together. Our quiet was interrupted by the sudden, frenzied barking of a dog. That was followed by shouts and a general commotion.
Karl sprinted up the steps.
I followed and peered inside the door, careful to stay out of the way. Karl, Franz and the Colonel stood near the kitchen entrance. Behind them, I saw the pale, stricken face of Ursula. She wore her costume and the apron she’d been working on. The Colonel clutched a furiously barking black shepherd. The crazed animal snapped and growled at Ursula.
Over the uproar, Franz shouted, ‘It isn’t possible.’
The Colonel brushed him aside, gave control of the dog to Karl and then pulled Ursula from the kitchen into the circular room. She held a silver teapot in her right hand.
The Colonel took the teapot from Ursula and ordered her to take a cup from one of the small tables. Her hands shook as she obeyed his order.
Franz rushed to her and said to the Colonel, ‘I’m sure this is a mistake. Fräulein Thalberg would never poison the Führer.’
‘Shut up,’ the Colonel commanded. ‘Get away from