Jane Thynne

Jane Thynne’s novel spans many decades, and takes us from London, Paris and Berlin to New York. The central characters are sisters Cordelia and Irene Capel. Born into an aristocratic English world, the sisters take very different paths when Irene marries the heir to a German industrial empire and moves to Berlin. Cordelia, meanwhile, hoping for a career as a writer, takes a job as a secretary at the Paris office of a London newspaper.

Irene discovers – at first with amusement and then, as the true nature of the party is revealed to her, dismay – that her husband Ernst is an admirer of the Nazi party – and the feeling is mutual. At social functions she rubs shoulders with, among others, Herman Goering and Reinhardt Heydrich. She also meets Martha Dodd, the captivating daughter of the American Ambassador. Dodd went on to have a career as a novelist and Soviet spy, but shortly before her father is recalled to America, she tells Irene what Berlin is really like:

“I had a lover once who was chief of police and he put the fear of the devil into me. He said Berlin was a vast network of espionage, terror, sadism and hate from which no one could escape.”

Along the way, we meet other real life characters such as Hardy Amies, Adolph Eichmann, Arthur Koestler and Kim Philby. Jane Thynne’s account of the paradox of late 1930s Germany is familiar, but still painful to read. On the one hand there was the booming economy, miniscule employment, and a burgeoning sense of national identity. On the other hand, the relentless surveillance by the Gestapo and the descent into state sponsored thuggery should haunt everyone, including modern Germans and its neighbours who sat back and watched it happen.

The narrative is cleverly constructed, and its master stroke is the introduction of modern day photographer Juno Lambert who buys an old portable typewriter for a photo shoot and uncovers a mystery that is as enchanting as it is chilling. Jane Thynne poses an exquisitely painful moral question, which is centred around the life of Irene. We see her as a newly-wed in the heady days of pre-war Berlin, with a glittering social life on the arm of her husband, Ernst. Their villa on the shores of the Wannsee, is a paradise, with a fertile garden rich with fruit and delicious vegetables. Literally ‘the house next door’ was where Reinhardt Heydrich chaired the infamous conference which drove the final nail into the coffin of Europe’s Jews.

We see Irene in the early months of 1945. The house is undamaged, but Ernst is long dead, killed on the Eastern Front. She boils the remains of vegetables to make an apology for soup. She trades her Cartier watch for a rabbit at the butcher shop. Everywhere, the talk is ‘what will happen when the Ivan’s arrive?’ The women of Berlin know only too well.

The moral question is this. Do we sympathise with people like Irene, betrayed by a corrupt and vainglorious government, or do we opt for that word (that only the Germans could invent) Schadenfreude? Although, wordwise, most of the novel is full of the stories of Irene and Cordelia, Juno Lambert is the key which unlocks the past. Juno rents the Villa Weissmuller in 2016 and, having read Cordelia’s manuscript, hidden in the case of the antique typewriter, she is anxious to find out if the sisters were ever reconciled.

There is an exquisite moment of irony when, with the Red Army rampaging through Berlin, we read how Irene’s recent lover, Obersturmbannführer Alex Hoffman, and the young Jewish man she has been sheltering for weeks, cower together in the hastily constructed hiding place behind the ornate shelves of the house’s library.

This magnificent novel is many things: a record of atrocities almost too awful to contemplate, let alone describe in words; several stories of love, some of which end in tragedy; a hymn of praise for Berlin, a city which has suffered unspeakable cruelty, but a place resilient enough to reinvent itself; finally, it is an encomium for the human spirit and an echo of Larkin’s words, “What will survive of us is love.” The Words I Never Wrote is published by Sharpe Books and is available now.

London, spring 1940. The ailing Neville Chamberlain is still Prime Minister, Hitler has rampaged through Poland and Czechoslovakia, and Winston Churchill is First Lord of The Admiralty, licking his wounds after his attempt to thwart the Nazi occupation of Norway.

Former intelligence agent Stella Fry is working in a quiet backwater of the war effort, a documentary film unit. She is headhunted by MI5 after a German prisoner of war named Fassbinder is murdered in a high security interrogation unit. Why Stella? The main suspect in the killing is Robert Handel, Stella’s erstwhile colleague at Oxford. Also working “off the books” for MI5 is a rumpled but effective former colleague of Stella’s, Harry Fox, now scratching a living as a private investigator. He and Stella’s earlier encounter can be found in Midnight in Vienna (2024).

The powers that be believe that Handel has fled to Paris, where his sister runs a bookshop. Stella is despatched to find him, and this allows Jane Thynne to pen a few evocative pages describing the French capital on the brink of a national disaster, but still behaving with its customary panache and insouciance. After a brief meeting with a certain Noel Coward, secretly working for British Intelligence, Stella, rather than finding Handel, is found by him, as he is now deeply embedded with the fledgling French resistance movement, already organising itself for the inevitable arrival of the Nazis. He denies any responsibility for Fassbinder’s murder and, after a passionate evening in Handel’s room, the couple awake to the news that Hitler has invaded Belgium, Luxemburg and Holland. Handel bundles Stella onto a crowded train bound for the Channel, and amid crowds of terrified refugees, she eventually arrives in Dover.

Meanwhile, Harry Fox has become entangled with a classic femme fatale who calls herself Lisselotte Edelman. It could be said that Harry is not a perfect gentleman for, while Lisselotte is gently snoring in his bed after a passionate encounter, he investigates her handbag, where, beneath the usual feminine fripperies, he finds a handgun, an Enfield No.3 MK1 .38 calibre, the same gun that shot Harry is also a veteran of The Great War, and sometimes his dreams are shot through with the horrors that his eighteen-year-old self endured at Mametz Wood.

I must declare an interest here. I am a sucker for novels set during WW2 and, all the more so if they are grounded in London. I ‘missed’ the war by a considerable distance, being born in 1947, but my childhood was shot through with reminders. I recall playing with old ration books and remember my father being laid low with occasional bouts of the malaria he had contracted in North Africa. In my teens I admired the old soldiers who had survived the Great War. They are all long since gone, as are all but a few of the men of my father’s generation. Jane Thynne captures the uncertain times of the early 1940s with uncanny accuracy, and she can stand shoulder to shoulder with fellow contemporary writers like John Lawton who have brought those troubled times so vividly to life.

Jane Thynne weaves a complex web of assumed identities, the dark arts of espionage and complex international politics, in particular the ambiguous relationship between Britain and the United States. She still finds space for some Brief Encounter-style romance, and some delightful cultural references, my favourite being the reference to a quiet Cotswold railway station (think a poet who died at Arras in 1917) Appointment in Paris is a delightful and complex journey into a fascinating period of our history. It was published by Quercus on 4th September.