My name is Gary Devonshire and I first met Emma Lillis at the Intercontinental Hotel in East Berlin in 1973, or more precisely outside the Hotel.
I was then, and still am a writer by profession, a sportswriter to be accurate, and my reason for being in East Germany was the World Cup.
It was being held in West Germany the following year, and all though England had failed to qualify for the finals, one of the teams who had was East Germany.
Furthermore, they would end up being drawn in the same group as their western cousins and would actually go on to win the group.
We didn’t know any of that at the time of course.
And because of the Iron Curtain we didn’t know very much about them either.
So, I had applied for and been granted a 12-week visa to experience East German football at first hand and follow some of their star players in their domestic league.
But on the day, I first met Emma Lillis, my twelve weeks were up, and I was going to cross into West Berlin later that afternoon.
I had enjoyed my time in East Germany but I was looking forward to returning to the west as I was wearing my last but one clean shirt, the Hotel had managed to lose three and over starch a fourth rendering it un-wearable, but as I would soon be back in the West I knew KaDeWe would sort me out, they’d never let me down and it was my favourite department store in the whole of Europe.
I was outside the Hotel looking up at the slate grey autumn sky and thinking to myself about my time there.
East Germany was often grey and drab, like their weather, but its football and its people’s appreciation of it was rainbow coloured.
I suddenly found myself, despite the shirt debacle, feeling sorry to be leaving, though I wasn't going to be sorry to lose my secret police escort who had followed me everywhere, but despite their intrusive attentions I had enjoyed my stay and the football.
All of this was going through my head when she bumped into me, the girl I would come to know as Emma, who was dressed from head to toe in dull autumn colours and looked as drab and gloomy as our surroundings, and her countenance was equally gloomy as she said without expression
“Sorry”
“No reason to apologize” I said as I stooped down to pick up her bag.
“My fault entirely”
“Thank you” she said and smiled, and the effect of the smile on her face was like the sun had come out on a dreary day, such was the difference before she then went quickly on her way.
Later that day, I crossed over the border at Checkpoint Charlie after taking a cab to the checkpoint and then crossing on foot.
At the barrier a sour faced border guard with a machine gun barked at me
“Passport”
I held it out to him.
“Show me page one,” he demanded
I duly obliged
“I said show me page one mister” he yelled and pointed his gun at me
I looked at the page I’d opened it to and showed it to him again, open at the same page and this time he waved me through apparently my bit of intimidation was over.
Once I had crossed into West Berlin, I got another cab and I was instantly struck by the stark contrast as the cab drove me through the vibrant and colourful city on the way to the Ritz-Carlton.
It was at the Ritz-Carlton Hotel where I saw Emma for the second time, which was while I was in the restaurant just finishing my breakfast on my first morning back in the west, when she walked in, dressed in Autumnal hues again and sporting a winter expression to go with it.
She didn’t notice me however as she was too busy staring at her feet as she walked behind an older couple and it seemed to me, she was trying her best not to be noticed.
The group proceeded to their table in convoy led by a rather imposing woman in her late 50s, quite elegant with a regal stature, who was also immaculately dressed.
Behind her was a slightly younger man of military bearing, except when he was fawning over the woman, and then came the girl, twenty something, I ascertained, who I presumed to be the daughter of the couple, although there was no warmth between them.
My journalistic eye was denied the opportunity to analyse the threesome any longer by the arrival in the restaurant of an old friend from the Berlin news bureaux.
Samuel Krzeminski and I had been friends since University and we always got together for lunch or dinner whenever we found ourselves in the same city.
But our friendship went deeper than that I was also best man at Sam and Trudy’s wedding and their eldest child, Otto, was my godson.
We would doubtless see quite a lot of each other in the coming year as the Olympic Stadium in West Berlin was one of the venues for the 74 World Cup, which is where we were headed that morning as we had a tour arranged at the Olympic Stadium and the new facilities before lunch.
That evening I was having dinner at their Spandau home, but lunch was catching up time for Sam and me.
Afterwards I went to my favourite department store, The Kaufhaus des Westens, which translates into English as “Department Store of the West”, usually abbreviated to KaDeWe.
KaDeWe was also where I saw Emma Lillis for the third time in two days.
I had just bought myself some new shirts and was looking for a new coat to go with them when we had our second collision in as many days.
“Sorry, sorry” she said
“It was my fault,” I said, and I was once again stooping down to pick up her bag.
“I wasn’t looking where I was going”
This time however she stooped down as well, as the contents of her bag had spilled onto the floor and she blushed deeply as she scooped her brightly coloured silky items back into her bag.
“Are you ok?” I asked
“Yes, thank you” she said and gave me a brief smile, which was when I realised that it was, she.
“This is the second time I’ve crashed into you,” I said
“Let me buy you a tea or a coffee as recompense”
“There’s really no need,” she said as she got to her feet.
“I insist” I said and steered her towards the lift
“I’m Gary by the way”
“Emma” she retorted meekly
A few minutes later we were sat in the café and gave our order to the waitress.
“It’s very strange how we keep bumping into each other,” I said
“Don’t you think so?”
She just stared at some imagined imperfection on the tablecloth
“Well I think three times in two days is noteworthy” I persisted
“Three?” she said lifting her eyes from the tablecloth for the first time.
“Yes, breakfast this morning at the Ritz,” I elaborated
“Are you staying there?” she asked
“Yes” I replied
“Was that your parents that I saw you with?”
“Yes and no” she answered intriguingly
“Oh, I see,” I said, “so the immaculately dressed tour de force is?”
“My mother” she replied with a smile “Donna Lillis-Prillman, I like to call her “Bella Donna” because she really is quite poisonous”
“And the military type? The fawning sycophant?” I asked and she laughed
“My Stepfather, Martin Prillmann” she replied
Just then the drinks and pastries arrived so there was a break in the conversation
“What took you to the East?” I asked
“A funeral, one of Martins uncles” she replied, “He is one of the Prussian aristocracy, a minor one and totally impoverished however which is why he married my mother”
“She isn’t impoverished then?” I asked
“God no she’s filthy rich” she replied “but she’s a snob, and a minor aristocracy is better than no aristocracy at all”
“I see” I responded “Hence the Ritz”
She nodded
“So, where do you live when you’re not ensconced in luxury Hotels?”
I asked
“Well our house is in London, but we are hardly ever there” Emma replied
“I like travelling though”
“But?” I said
“But I wish I could do it without being under “Bella Donnas’” watchful eye” she said
“Why don’t you then?” I asked
“Mummy dear controls the purse strings and I only get a small allowance, so I am totally dependent on her” she replied bitterly
“You’re obviously not happy about it,” I said
“That’s because I’m 27 years old and I’m still getting pocket money from my mother” she said
She was on the verge of tears, so I chose a different tack.
“What about your father? Your real father”
“He died when I was 15” she replied
“I’m sorry,” I said
“Its fine” she said brightly “What about you, how come you are staying at the Ritz?”
“Just a treat I’m afraid, I don’t normally ride quite so high on the hog” I pointed out
She looked at me in a way that urged me to say more so I elaborated
“I’ve been working in East Germany for three months and such deprivations deserved a reward”
“What were you doing over there? Are you a spy?” she asked and laughed
“No, I’m not a spy, I’m a sportswriter” I replied
“Really?” she asked brightly “Would I know you?”
“You might” I replied
“A sportswriter named Gary” she mused
“Hang on are you Gary Devonshire?” she asked
“Yes, I am” I said surprised she knew my work
“I’ve read your reports,” she said, “So what have you been working on? Something related to the World Cup I bet”
“Spot on, I’m impressed” I replied
We then spent a very pleasant hour discussing sports of every type.
I have to admit that the scared little mouse I had bumped into took on an entirely different persona when she spoke, with a great depth of knowledge, on sport.
She was still in full flow when she glanced at the clock and announced that she had to go.
“I didn’t realise it was so late” she said, “Mother will be miffed”
“I’m sorry I kept you so late” I said
“Don’t be, I rarely get to discuss football with anyone other than taxi drivers” she said
“If you’re going back to the Ritz, we could share a cab”
“That would be great,” I agreed, and we were able to continue our discussion on the journey.
When we arrived at the Hotel the Titan was seated in reception
“Ooops” Emma said and pulled a face
“Sorry again” I said
“It’s ok, it was nice talking to you” she said and walked over to where her mother was waiting
“You’re late” Bella Donna said
“Sorry I lost track of the time” Emma said
“Apparently so” her mother said and gave me a withering look
When I went to the desk to retrieve my key, I found a message waiting for me to say that the meal with Sam and Trudy was cancelled, as their youngest child Sebastian was ill.
Although we would do it the following night instead it meant I was then at a loose end that evening.
I decided to have a word with Max, the concierge, to see if he could get me ticket for something, anything, for that evening.
He came back to me an hour later, with two tickets for Herta Berlins match at the Olympic stadium against Hannover 96.
Unfortunately, he had misunderstood, I only wanted one ticket, but he had scalped me a pair.
I paid him the money and just hoped it would be worth it.
Before I went to the match, I decided to get a beer in the Hotel bar first.
In the end I had two and as I sat at the bar, I noticed the formidable Mrs Lillis-Prillman and her lapdog crossing the foyer in all their finery and I started to wonder where Emma was.
I was a hard bitten thirty-five-year-old sports hack who had managed to stay single into middle age, though in truth it hadn’t always been by design, so I shouldn’t have cared tu’ppence.
But it was funny, that since I had bumped into Emma for the third time that afternoon, how I found myself wishing to bump into her again.
And as I left the bar after finishing my third drink, I got my wish.
“Oh hello” she said
“Emma!” I exclaimed “I was just thinking about you”
“Oh?” she said and blushed
“Yes, I just saw her ladyship and her lackey leave the Hotel and I wondered why you weren’t with them” I said
“They’ve gone to an Embassy reception” she replied “not really my cup of tea”
“In which case I think I have something that might be” I said
“Really?” she asked intrigued
“Yes, I’m off to the Olympic Stadium” I began “Herta are playing…”
“Hannover” she responded
“Correct” I said slightly patronizingly
“And I have a spare ticket”
To my surprise she didn’t respond to my unspoken invitation, but I left the silence unfilled for a minute before I said
“So, would you like to come?”
“Me?” she asked like she’d never been invited anywhere in her life
“Really?”
“Yes you” I reiterated
“I’d love to” she said, “have I got time to change?”
I waited in reception for about 10 minutes while she changed into something more suitable for an October evening in Berlin and as I watched her exit the lifts and cross the foyer I was struck by two things, firstly how much more strident and confident she was when not in her mother’s wake, her brown hair bouncing in unison with her purposeful step.
And secondly how attractive she was.
I had briefly noticed her pretty smile on our first meeting but that was very fleeting, but as she approached, I had a chance to look at the girl and not the drab little mouse.
Emma also appeared to be taller than she was before as she wasn’t hunched over staring at her feet.
Her clothing however was still autumnal as before, she was wearing a long drab coloured skirt, knee high boots and a long leather coat, brown.
I knew she liked colour, I had seen the evidence spill from her bag in KaDeWe, but she still managed to look pretty despite the drabness.
As she got closer, she saw me looking and her freckled face blushed, but she still managed a smile.
Max, the concierge, hailed us a cab and we got in.
“I’ve never been to a Bundesliga game before” she announced as the cab pulled off. “I’m quite excited”
“I’m afraid they’re only standing tickets,” I confessed hoping it wouldn’t curb her enthusiasm.
“What on the terraces?” she asked
“I’m afraid so” I admitted
“Even better” she squealed “Thank you so much for bringing me”
“You don’t mind then?” I asked
“Not at all, normally if I’m lucky enough to go to sports events we’re in the Directors box or sitting in the posh seats with people who know nothing about what they’re watching” She said
“I’m going to be on the terraces with the real fans”
“I know what you mean” I said “I’m normally in the press box with a bunch of cynical old hacks that have no passion for what they’re watching”
“This is as close as I can get” the driver said
“No problem” I said and paid the fare
Once on the pavement I said to Emma
“We’ll have to walk from here”
“Great, we can soak up the atmosphere” she said brightly and meant it.
At the end of a thrilling match Herta were victorious, winning 4-2.
“That was brilliant” Emma shouted enthusiastically almost hoarse.
We were being guided along the street by a group of Herta fans we had met on the terraces to their favourite bar to celebrate the victory with their new friends, namely us.
We went in for one and stayed for three and were both feeling a little lightheaded when we left as neither of us had eaten.
That was soon remedied when we found a little Hungarian restaurant only a little way along from the bar.
After our welcome satisfying repast, we hailed a taxi for the ride back to the Ritz.
It was quite late by then and the journey passed relatively quietly as we began to feel the effects of the football, beer and goulash; it was a comfortable silence, however.
Once back at the Ritz we picked up our keys from reception and rode up in the lift together, still in relative quiet.
We reached her floor first and being a gentleman, I delivered her to her door.
“Well here we are milady; I have delivered you safely to your door” I said with a bow
“Thank you, kind sir,” she replied and performed an ungraceful curtsy
“Seriously though, thank you so much again” she said “I had a great time”
“No need for thanks, you were excellent company” I responded
“Which reminds me I’m having dinner in Spandau tomorrow night with friends and I wondered if you would like to join me? Although it won’t match the excitement of tonight’s game, I can promise it will be enjoyable”
And before I could add anything else her mouth was on mine, which I took to mean yes to dinner and judging by what followed she had clearly gotten her second wind.
The next morning, while Emma showered, I was dressing myself from the discarded items of clothing from the floor in her room when I spied her underwear underneath a chair; I had only briefly glimpsed them the night before as I hurriedly removed them from her lower portions.
They were a warm shade of deep pink with contrasting bows of pale pink ribbon and looking at them aroused me.
I don’t know why I was aroused, as we had only made love half an hour earlier.
I could hear her in the bathroom as my gaze was fixed on her knickers, which were of a hue that was in such stark contrast to her drab outer garments, she really was pretty in pink.
When she came out of the bathroom wrapped in white towels, I said
“Show me what you’ll be wearing today”
“Ok” she said as a look of confusion spread across her face and she walked over to her wardrobe and took out two items
“I’m going to wear my beige top and a russet coloured skirt,” Emma said
“That’s not what I meant,” I said
“I don’t understand,” she said looking even more confused
“Show me what you will be wearing, underneath,” I explained
“Oh” she said and was no longer confused
“Now do you understand?” I asked
“Yes” she said
“So?” I pressed
“I’m not saying” Emma said adamantly
“Why not? I asked
“Its private, personal” she said coyly
“We made love twice last night and again this morning” I said “it doesn’t get more personal than that”
“I know” she responded and blushed “but that was different”
“Was it?”
“Yes” she said in a tone that seemed to draw a line on the conversation but then she asked
“Why do you want to know?”
“Well when I see you walk into breakfast with your overbearing mother, “Bella Donna” and her Prussian Ponce of a husband, I want to be the only one in the room, other than you, to know what you are wearing against your precious skin beneath your russet skirt”
I explained
“But more importantly I want to know, so I can picture them with perfect clarity as I look forward to taking them off you later”
“Are you going to take them off me later?” she asked quietly
“I would very much like to” I confessed
Without hesitation Emma walked over to her chest of drawers and pulled the top one open
“Then I will be wearing these,” she said holding up a pair of scarlet silk panties.
At breakfast I was in the dining room before Emma arrived and positioned myself at a table where I could observe her and be observed by her.
As previously the group proceeded to their table in convoy led by the imposing Mrs Lillis-Prillman, “Bella Donna” following closely behind her was her sycophantic husband Martin Prillmann and bringing up the rear came Emma but not stooped over and staring at her shoes as she had the day before.
She walked in, straight backed and smiling broadly.
Emma was trying desperately not to make eye contact with me but couldn’t resist and she blushed redder than the scarlet silk panties she was wearing.
Her mother noticed the smiles that passed between us and gave me a disapproving look.
That afternoon when I did indeed remove Emma’s scarlet knickers it would have driven Donna to distraction.
She would definitely have disapproved if she’d seen me undressing her daughter in my room that afternoon and again that night in Emma’s where I liberated her from a pink lace pair after we had dined in Spandau at Sam and Trudy’s.
However, the next day, after breakfast, I was summoned to Donnas’ suite, I was of a mind to disappoint her and I told Emma as much but to my surprise she urged me to meet her.
I knocked on the door and after a moment it was opened by the sycophant who with typical Prussian arrogance silently looked me up and down.
“I was summoned,” I said, and he stepped aside to let me in.
Donna was seated at her desk with her back to me and without turning around she said brusquely.
“You may sit”
“You’re too kind” I said factiously
“You’ll do well not to adopt an attitude with me Mr Devonshire”
She said still with her back to me
“I don’t think I need a lesson in manners from someone who doesn’t even have the courtesy to look at the person they are addressing” I said annoyed at myself for losing my temper, but it did have the desired effect as she turned around to face me.
“I am superior to you in every conceivable way Mr Devonshire and I therefore have no need to show you anything other than contempt” she said
“Is that the only reason you summoned me? To tell me how superior you are”
I said and stood up
“I summoned you to tell you to stay away from my daughter,” she said without expression
“Well you’ve told me” I said and walked towards the door
“Don’t go without what you came here for,” she said
“This should satisfy you” she added and held out a cheque
I took it from her, and she smiled an ugly grimace, then I tore it up and threw the pieces at her.
“That was my only offer,” she said, “and you’ll never see a penny of Emma’s money”
“I’m not interested in your daughter’s money” I said angrily “I work for a living”
I left the room slamming the door behind me; I was so angry that I stormed out of the Hotel and was gone for an hour.
When I returned, I found Emma waiting anxiously in reception and it was apparent she had been crying and she was on the verge of crying again so I took her in my arms.
When we saw her mother exit the lift and start walking towards us, we ran out of the door and jumped into a cab.
We drove around the city for about half an hour before we finally alighted at the Europa Centre and spent an hour in the Irish pub and stared at the water clock as we made our plans for the future.
These plans involved, to a large degree my friends Sam and Trudy.
We had decided not to return to the Ritz, but I needed to check out of the Hotel and Emma needed some of her clothes and some items of sentimental value.
That night we stayed at a small Guesthouse on the edge of the Turkish quarter and the next day arranged to meet Emma’s mother and stepfather at midday, at the Berlin Zoo.
While they were out of the Hotel Trudy, bluffed her way into Emma’s room and packed her an overnight bag, comprising mainly of the contents of her underwear draw, her jewellery box and of course her passport.
Meanwhile Sam had settled my bill and collected my things from my room.
Emma went into the Zoo but remained out of sight and kept Donna and Martin in view while I waited by a pay phone at the entrance.
I looked at my watch and was beginning to get anxious and then the phone rang
“Ja!” I said and I still don’t know why I said it in German, but I did.
“Mission accomplished” Sam said
“Really?” I said
“Yes” Sam confirmed, “Now get your ass over to Tegel”
“Ok, see you soon” I said and hung up
I paid for my ticket and went in to find Emma which wasn’t difficult as she was a rubbish spy, I found her wearing a floppy hat and hiding in the gift shop.
She was staring out the window and giggling, as she watched her mother and stepfather arguing.
I crept up behind her and goosed her and she let out a yelp, so loud there was a very real danger her quarry may have heard so I took her hand and we ran for the gate as if the devil was on our heels and jumped into the first cab we found.
We reached Tegel airport and met up with Sam and Trudy and when hugs and handshakes had been shared, I said
“We will never forget this”
“It’s a pleasure” Trudy said, “I was beginning to think you would never fall in love”
“Well it’s happened,” I said
“You didn’t tell me that” Emma said and punched me
“It’s been a busy day” I said feebly and kissed her
“Here are your tickets” Sam said, “Now get a move on”
We said our goodbyes at the gate and flew to London.
Once in London, Emma took me to the family home in Mayfair and we spent the night there, making love in her mother’s bed.
Early next morning Emma packed a suitcase and we took a taxi, first to Fleet Street where I submitted my piece on East German football to the editor at the Times and then onto my flat in Isleworth where I packed a case of my own.
From there we took a plane to New York and my next assignment on American Football.
Emma loved it, we got to travel around America, from motel to motel watching all kinds of sport, it wasn’t the kind of accommodation she was used to but if she was unhappy about it she never mentioned it or complained about it.
Her knowledge of sport was quite astounding, and I don’t mean for a woman either, and apart from the fact I was in love with her she was also invaluable to me as an editor, a critic and a sounding board.
She also managed our finances and kept us solvent.
Our American journey came to an end with Super Bowl VIII on January 13, 1974 at Rice Stadium in Houston, Texas, when the Miami Dolphins defeated the Minnesota Vikings 24–7, to win their second consecutive Super Bowl, and I proposed to Emma.
On the back of my Times piece on East German Football and my work on American Football and Soccer in America I was offered a job by the New York Times to cover the 1974 World Cup and as it meant our having to be in Berlin for some of the group matches we got married while we were there, with Sam and Trudy in attendance obviously.
Donna was invited but she declined, she never forgave her daughter for disobeying her wishes and Emma never forgave Donna for not being at her daughter’s wedding.
Over the years Emma travelled with me around the world from event to event, World Cups, Olympics, Commonwealth Games, Rugby, Cricket and Horse Racing and we are still together, and you know what, she’s still pretty in pink.
