"Honey, I'm home!"
The unexpected sound of the front door slamming open made Manuela jump out of her but it only took her a split second to identify the intruder's identity, and she groaned, half relieved and half frustrated. From the corner of her eye, she considered Elisabeth who had not lifted her head from the newspaper she was reading, unbothered that her sister had just shamelessly let herself into their house. A few months back, all three of them had come to the agreement that living huddled together in the two-bedroom flat was probably not ideal for everyone's sanity –and sense of privacy- and Ida, who was now earning more than Manuela and Elisabeth combined due to her flourishing career had had no difficulty finding a place of her own. Yet, she still harboured a particular distaste for being alone, which she usually was save from the countless extravagant parties she attended or the occasional visits of a lover. For this reason, she often took the liberty of visiting the couple whenever she pleased, regardless of her former complaints about the "unbearable promiscuity" that reigned there.
"We really need to take back her key," Manuela murmured through greeted teeth.
"What are you both doing still in your nightgowns?" Ida gasped as she entered the kitchen, immaculately coiffed and dressed. She examined with a critical eye the two women who were still not done with breakfast at such an ungodly hour.
"It's 9 o'clock. On a Sunday," Manuela enunciated pointedly, but still she got up to kiss her sister-in-law on the cheek. "Tea?"
Ida pursed her lips in consideration, not unlike her older sister sometimes did although Manuela thought better of pointing that out.
"Alright then," she sighed after a while, as if surrendering to a most unpleasant fate.
"What brings her majesty by this morning?" Elisabeth asked, eventually looking up from her newspaper with a teasing smile.
"To regale you both with tales of last night's party, of course."
"There was a party?" Manuela asked, stifling a yawn as she set a steaming cup of tea in front of her.
The other woman eyed her as if she had completely lost her mind, and turned to her sister for support, soon to realise she was just as clueless.
"You two are the most infuriatingly boring people I have ever met," she hissed.
"If running from boarding school to America with my impossibly beautiful teacher is boring to you, then I don't mind," the younger woman retorted smugly.
"You truly are anything but boring, darling," Elisabeth assured, reaching for her hand to give it a loving kiss.
"And you truly are impossibly beautiful. Among other things," Manuela whispered, her pale blue orbs suddenly shining with adoration.
"Oh don't mind me," Ida huffed from the other side of the table, making the two women break away from each other reluctantly.
"Right. The much-vaunted party. How was it?"
"Thank you for asking," she exhaled in apparent relief. "It was delightful! I ran into Romberg yet again –for the second time this month, mind you. I don't believe in coincidences. He is considering composing something for me, I can tell. A whole operetta, I'm guessing… This is all to be kept under wraps for now, of course, but I have a feeling that something amazing is in the works. He called me the most promising cantatrice of the decade, can you imagine?"
"Hmm? Oh that's –that's quite something, isn't it?" Manuela said, trying to remember who this Romberg bloke Ida was gushing over was.
"And that's not all!"
"Isn't it?"
"I had the most captivating conversation with the British deputy ambassador. What a fine, cultured man, this one. He has travelled the world, well-versed in the arts…"
"He sounds like a good catch."
"Yes, well –there is the technicality of him being married."
"You really do have a thing for married men," Manuela guffawed, and quickly hid it behind a cough at Elisabeth's indignant glare.
"Must we go through this again? I was unaware that Marcel had a wife during our… fling."
"Until she followed Elisabeth home, threatening to strangle her because she had mistaken her for you…" Manuela reminded her. "I had to lock her in the bathroom until we could talk some sense into her."
"Those were the days," Ida sighed, a hint of nostalgia in her voice.
"No more of these adulterous activities, I couldn't handle it," Elisabeth warned firmly.
"Not to worry. I met the wife before any misunderstanding could settle in, this time. A charming creature, albeit a bit troubling. She seemed oddly familiar," she said, pensive. "Pretended to be Russian, curiously enough."
"Maybe because she was Russian?" Manuela provided.
"Oh, no, no, honey. I would recognize a Prussian with my eyes closed from across a crowded room, believe me. But it's not exactly something the wife of a British official would want to publicize these days, isn't it? It's only fair."
Elisabeth and Manuela remained silent for a moment, both pondering on what Ida had just said with various degrees of gravity. Manuela was the first to break the silence, rounding her eyes dramatically.
"A singer and a detective all rolled into one? Ida, you really are something else. Now, be serious," she added with finality. "There is no reason for anyone to keep quiet about their so-called Prussian origins. We should know, we're the first ones concerned."
"Do you, really?" Elisabeth retorted after a while. "Maybe you are not faced with such situations in your daily life –maybe most of your audience has no idea where you are even from. But people feel very strongly about Germans lately, you should not be taking it so lightly."
This gave the younger woman pause, and she looked between her wife and sister-in-law, perplexed at the sudden change in atmosphere. And then appalled.
"Darling! Surely you don't believe that anyone would ever target us because of this!"
"Of course, they would. People are being sacked, forced aside. German schools are closing. Look around you. I could lose my job…"
"What are you talking about? Have you been threatened?" Manuela stammered, jumping from her chair to kneel in front of Elisabeth, concern now apparent on her face.
"Not directly, no. But Manuela, things are shifting and… not for the best."
The young actress took her beloved wife's hands in hers as wide, pale blue orbs fell into a stormy sea of dark blue.
"Why didn't you say anything? Are you scared?" she asked, almost unwillingly. Knowing that Elisabeth could have been this preoccupied without telling her was unbearable, and it made her stomach churn with dread. How blind was she if she was not even able to discern her wife's discomfort? The older woman seemed to understand her struggle and squeezed her hands back, gracing her with a –hopefully- convincing smile.
"It's alright. Let's just keep our eyes open and things should be fine."
There was a pregnant silence in the room that was quickly interrupted.
"Anyway –if you're done with the drama... I offered them box seat tickets for my recital next month, maybe you'll get to meet them," Ida said from her chair, visibly anxious for the attention to switch back to her.
Manuela turned to the singer sharply, and then narrowed her eyes in outrage. "You never get us box seat tickets! I had to pay a fortune for front seats last time."
"Ah honey, it's a principle. Never gift anyone tickets unless they can afford it. You'll understand when you're a renowned comedian. Hopefully you'll have reached puberty by then."
Manuela remained stunned at the affront for all but a second as she tried to think of a proper retort, before she snatched the cup of tea from her sister-in-law's hands and brought it to her lips, swiftly draining the rest of its content in one gulp. She slammed it back down on the table with thud before a puzzled Ida and an unimpressed Elisabeth, extremely pleased with herself.
"I have to deal with rowdy teenagers all day long, but you two… you two are something else entirely," the teacher sighed hopelessly. "I'm going to work for a bit. Please try not to gouge one another's eyes out while I'm gone."
She rose from her seat and exited the room without another word, purposely ignoring the two snickering women at the table.