Chapter One Thousand Eight Hundred Twenty-Six
24th December 1967
Tempelhof, Berlin
It was late at night and Sophie couldn’t sleep. The house that she had been living in was bewildering and the Holiday Season added a surreal element that made it feel like a fever dream. Tomorrow, they were going to Opa’s house according to Marie. She said that Sophie would like him because he was kind in a stern kind of way a good Opa was supposed be, he always liked to teach them new things and that his house was like a huge hunting lodge. He also had a pack of dogs and liked to go hunting every day, which was logical if he lived in a hunting lodge. That was outside Sophie’s experience, her grandfather had ignored her most of the time and had only become animated when her mother had made enough noise to make watching his television programs difficult. She prayed that this new Opa would be better than that.
For her entire life Sophie had thought that the sort of Christmas celebration that she had seen on television was a fantasy, an unobtainable ideal that didn’t exist in real life. The big meal and presents, elaborate traditions. She had stopped asking about it when she had done so once too often and learned that it was a swift way of getting her mother’s wrath. “All that shit costs money we don’t have” Sophie remembered her grandfather remarking towards the television after her mother had gotten through with her while she had been cowering in the corner of the parlor.
That was why it had been shocking to see how the family that had taken her in celebrated the holidays. They went all out with decorations and there were dozens of gifts under the tree. Sophie had been completely mortified to discover that some of them were for her. What had she done to deserve any sort of gifts over the past year? Her mother had always told her that bad little girls didn’t get anything, and that the Krampus was far more likely to visit them than Saint Nicholas. So, she should be happy with how she had roof over her head and food in her belly.
Sophie wiped her nose with the sleeve of the red and black checkered flannel nightgown that had been a gift from Kat and Doug earlier that night. She had tried to give it back, but Kat insisted that she try it on. Then Sophie had noticed that it was too large on her and Kat had said that made it perfect for her to grow into. Feeling restless, Sophie threw the covers off her and climbed out of bed. The floor was cold on her bare feet as she padded out of her bedroom. All she found was a sleeping house though she did notice light coming up from downstairs. When she reached the stairwell, she could hear faint voices below.
Walking down the stairs to the garden floor, Sophie walked through the formal dining room and peered into the kitchen. Julia the senior Maid, her husband Serhiy the Cook, were talking with the Butler, whose name Sophie didn’t know and Darya the junior Maid who had recently arrived from Russia. All of them were talking rapidly in a language that she didn’t understand and were playing a game of cards. Just then a hand closed on Sophie’s shoulder startling her.
“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” Petia asked.
“I couldn’t sleep” Sophie said, fearful of the Russian woman’s reaction. She ran Kat’s household and was not afraid to met out punishments, usually in the form of extra chores with Kat almost always backing whatever she did.
“I can help with that” Petia said, as she led Sophie into the kitchen and sat her down on one of the chairs at the kitchen table. Sophie heard the clank of a saucepan being placed on the stove as she watched the card game unfold. The entire game, Julia, Serhiy and the Butler were passing a bottle of a clear liquid whenever they thought Petia wasn’t looking. Darya just smirked and took a sip from the can of orange Fanta. Eventually they were caught and Petia said a few sharp words in Russian as she took the bottle away.
A few minutes later, Petia came back with a cup of hot chocolate for Sophie. “Drink that all down” She said, and she watched expectantly.
It did smell good, chocolate and cinnamon mingled, so Sophie didn’t mind. She couldn’t help but noticing a bitter aftertaste once she had finished it. A minute later, Petia came back from putting the pan in the sink and joined in the conversation. It was with a bit of glee that Sophie noticed that Petia was making no move to send her back up to bed. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t understand what they were talking about, just being here was fun. Still, after a few minutes, Sophie noticed that her eyes were getting heavy and…
----------------------------------------------------------------
Taking the girl back up to her bedroom was easy enough. They all lived on the top floor, so it was a stop along the way.
Boris was carrying Sophie up the stairs as if she weighted nothing. While the Siberian wasn’t a particularly large man, he was extremely powerful physically. Petia had seen him crush walnuts with his fingers. Formerly of Russian Airborne Forces, Boris had come to Berlin on a lark after he had gotten out. He had found himself unexpectedly getting married to the daughter of one of the Russian sisters and had needed a job that fit his skillset. Becoming the Butler/Bodyguard in Katya’s household was a good fit and she was paying him more than enough to secure his loyalty.
Darya was a bit different. She was Petia’s granddaughter and she was working as a Maid in Katya’s house while she went to University in Berlin.
Both of them had discovered that there was seldom a boring moment in this house.
“What did you give her to fall asleep so fast?” Darya asked.
“Warm milk with chocolate and cinnamon” Petia replied, “With something additional to speed it up a bit.”
“The vodka your Granny took away from us” Boris said.
“That was because you and Serhiy were over doing it” Petia said, “You know how Katya feels about drinking to excess.”
“You gave the child vodka” Darya said, “I think that the Fürstin might have a bigger problem with that.”
“Keep your voice down” Petia said, “Katya speaks Russian, always remember that and it was just a little bit, it won’t hurt the girl.”
