Saturday Morning

After much packing and unpacking – not least on the part of Georg and Maria – the family were at last crammed into the de luxe Saloon, the youngest girls at the front with their parents, the five eldest squashed into the back.

This is going to be a long drive, thought Georg wryly, wondering how many times Friedrich and Louisa would spark each other off during the 250 miles to Venice. Smoothy releasing the clutch, he exchanged a dry smile with Maria, once more relishing her soothing presence.

'Wait!' squealed Brigitta suddenly, climbing over Kurt towards the door. 'I've forgotten my book!'

'-Er, you've already got about ten in your suitcase,' muttered Louisa as she ran inside; even though it was very early she felt the strong urge to kick Friedrich for his tuneless humming of My Favourite Things.

'What book is Brigitta looking for?' Liesl asked, directing her question towards her brother in the hope of halting his inane droning, which had now transformed into a somewhat squeaky version of Edelweiss.

'Uhm, I'm not sure,' he mumbled with a yawn, as Maria replied from the front, 'I think it was Robert Musil,' vaguely remembering such a book on Brigitta's bedside table.

'Musil,' noted Georg with satisfaction, 'she has good taste.' The writer's themes of a dying European culture were, he reflected, particularly relevant in the light of contemporary politics…Brushing such unsavoury thoughts aside, he turned to Maria and smiled as she wrapped her arms tighter around Gretl, asleep on her lap.

'At last,' groaned Kurt as Brigitta clambered into the car, book in hand, causing her siblings to squash even closer together on the brown leather seat.

'Well…Venice here were come,' said Georg, sweeping the car quickly though the front gates before any more of his children realised they had forgotten an essential item of luggage.

Maria smiled as the car approached the outskirts of Salzburg, watching the sun rise over the meadows of the Untersburg. As the children chattered in the back, her gaze instinctively drifted towards her husband, quickly becoming captivated by the way his hand rested masterfully on the wheel, the faint smile playing about the corners of his mouth.

Unable to resist contact, she reached her hand across sleeping Gretl and Marta to caress the crook of his arm, causing him to groan incoherently. Kurt and Louisa were discussing the relative merits of lasagne and Wiener schnitzel too loudly for this to be heard in the back, however, and Georg responded by gently covering Maria's hand with his. Unable to prevent herself from blushing at the simple touch, she gave him a dazzling smile, causing him considerable difficulty in concentrating on the road ahead.

'I seem to remember driving past you climbing trees,' Georg said softly so as not to wake Marta or Gretl.

'Oh yes,' said Maria, smiling at the memory. 'When the children were out of uniform…,' she teased gently.

'I think you rightly referred to them as 'straightjackets', said Georg, reflecting for the umpteenth time how stupid his treatment of the children had been.

'I was far too outspoken,' said Maria contemplatively, staring out at Salzburg's main thoroughfare.

'-who's far too outspoken?' interjected Brigitta from the back, just as Georg was about to commend Maria on her frankness during that painful argument.

'You are,' said Friedrich immediately, having grown bored of listening to Kurt and Louisa's gastronomic bickering.

'Sssh,' said Maria, not wanting the little girls to be woken. 'Why don't we play a quiet game…like 'I spy'?' she suggested quickly before dissent could break out over possible games.

'I'll go first,' said Liesl enthusiastically, pleased at the opportunity of diverting her thoughts from Rolfe. 'Erm… I spy with my little eye something beginning with "h".'

'Hairdressers?' guessed Brigitta.

'House?'

'Headlamps,' the others joined in.

'Hamster?'

'Er, just where exactly would she have seen a hamster, Kurt,' Louisa said sarcastically.

'I just saw one…' he replied indignantly.

'Hotel,' said Georg lowly, smiling at all the connotations of Paris the word held.

'What did you guess, Father?' said Liesl.

'Hotel,' he repeated with a quick glance at Maria as he accelerated onto the main Autobahn towards Italy.

'Well done, you're right' said Leisl, 'it's your turn to guess now.'

Glimpsing a black car with little red flags in his rear view mirror, Georg said icily, 'Unfortunately, I spy something beginning with 'I' - an imbecile by the name of Zeller.' His jaw tightened upon seeing the Gauleiter signal for the car to pull over, which he did with an angry skid of the brakes.

'Stay calm, Georg, please,' warned Maria as Herr Zeller approached the Saloon, a sycophantic Karl in tow.

'Don't worry, Maria, I'll deal with this,' said Georg curtly, slamming the door behind him as he got out to confront Herr Zeller on the roadside. Worriedly lifting Gretl off her lap, Maria also exited the car, with a quick reminder to the anxious children to remain quiet.

'Driving a little fast, were we not Captain?' said Zeller with a gleeful raise of his eyebrows. 'Trying to escape from something…or someone?'

'Why should I wish to escape when sharing the road with such, er, pleasant motorists?' said Georg sarcastically, eyeing the undersized man as one might a particularly filthy toad.

'I understand you're going on holiday to Italy,' said Zeller, 'therefore I would like to see your passports,' he added, holding out a mottled hand.

'I was under the impression, Herr Zeller, that travelling arrangements in Austria are private…at least the Austria I know,' replied Georg furiously, his eyes snapping fire.

'You may be assured that we'll provide all the necessary documents at the Border' said Maria, stepping between the two men in the hope of diffusing the situation.

'Very well,' said Zeller, 'I shall let the Italians deal with you, it'll lessen my workload anyway.'

'Ah, yes, your workload,' said Georg with false politeness, 'I imagine it must be a tiring job, terrorising innocent people.'

'Such comments will not be tolerated in the New Order,' called Zeller as the couple turned towards the car. 'You in particular, Captain, will be expected to fill a proper role in the workings of the Third Reich.'

'Just as you have done so admirably, Herr Zeller?'

'Your praise is heartwarming, Captain.'

'Oh, forgive me,' said Georg climbing into the car, 'it was meant to be scornful.' And, stepping on the accelerator so forcefully that the car sped forward, he left the local Gauleiter coughing profusely in a cloud of dust.

'Verdammt noch mal!' snapped Georg as they sped down the Tyrollean Autobahn. 'Schwachsinnige!' he added under his breath, angry that the Nazi had intruded on their family holiday.

'Father's saying bad words,' giggled Marta as the rest of the children grinned in the back, having been eavesdropping eagerly on the conversation with Herr Zeller. Even Maria had to chuckle; she could not help noticing how smoulderingly handsome Georg looked when truly irritated. Softly touching his free hand, she drew him out of his annoyance and, squeezing her fingers in response, he vowed to think no more about the Nazis and instead concentrate on showing Venice to his beautiful wife and family. Which should be extremely pleasurable, he thought contentedly, gently toying with Maria's wedding band.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------