This week a commission of historians will deliver their verdict on the wartime conduct of Kurt Waldheim. For his most ardent supporter, his daughter Christa, there can be only one possible outcome.

‘IF I opened a paper tomorrow and read that my father had killed somebody, it wouldn’t throw me.’ The same woman later says: ‘It’s sometimes hard to keep your sanity and stop yourself going crazy.’ She is Dr Christa Karas-Waldheim, a 28-year-old law graduate and daughter of Dr Kurt Waldheim. The youngest of his three children by 11 years, she is the closest to her father and the most politically motivated.

Her relationship with her father is, she admits rather awkwardly, ‘abnormal’. She talks about him in romantic terms: ‘I always felt he understood me, never felt I couldn’t reach out. If he’s busy we can see each other at midnight.’ When she married last June – her husband is Austria’s most prominent young conservative politician – her father was not displaced. ‘I added his name to my married one because I feel very close to both of them.’ In Karas-Waldheim’s eyes, ‘Papi’, as she calls him, can do no wrong.

When her father decided to run for the Austrian Presidency in 1985 for the conservative People’s Party, after being rejected for a third term as Secretary-General of the United Nations, she left her job at the Austrian Academy of Science to campaign for him. ‘He cares about people and wants to help them. He was the best man for the job.’ Single-handedly and supported exclusively by donations, she enlisted thousands into her ‘people’s movement’. She would sleep four hours a night and speek up to eight times a day in different parts of the country, to crowds of sometimes 5,000 people. ‘I had never addressed more than 10 people before. It was terrifying.’

Then, in March 1986, three months before her father was eventually selected, what she wil only term the ‘smear campaign’ started. The World Jewish Congress (WJC) accused her father of being a member of the Nazi ‘browinshirts’ and later serving in a Wehrmacht unit where he must have been aware of the transporting of more than 40,000 Greek Jews to death camps during the Second World War.

His daughter says that the WJC’s ‘evidence’ came from socialist manipulators and that the allegations were ‘unfair weapons and lies’ employed by a frightened opposition.

Talking volubly and maintaining close eye-contact throughout, she constantly refers to her father as a victim and scapegoat. She was, she says, as astonished as her father by his opponents’ tactics.

The WJC claimed that Waldheim’s autobiography, In the Eye of the Storm, published in 1985, was factually incorrect, particularly in its omission of any reference to military service after 1941. He did see further military service – the issue is where and in what capacity. His daughter says that the only stories she had heard about the war years were things like her sister – who is 14 years her elder – being born on a mountain top when her mother fled after the Russian invassion of Vienna.

And her father? ‘He was just a poor soldier in uniform obeying orders. It wasn’t a nice time. He didn’t like to remember it.’

Last autumn the Austrian government published ‘The White Book’ to rebut the WJC allegations and explain Waldheim’s ‘missing years’. During them, Waldheim claims, he served as a translator, as an officer in German intelligence, continued his legal studies then worked as an interpreter and collator of military information. ‘That was a very boring time,’ his daughter says. ‘I can’t imagine that anyone will want to read it.

She believes that she established such a close relationship with her father through being the youngest in the family. ‘I was spoilt, being the baby. My mother is my best girlfriend.’ She grew up in New York during her father’s terms as ambassador and at the United Nations. (Lycee educated, she now speaks ‘Berlitz American’ with a singing Austrian accent.) Rather than isolate her from his hectic life, Waldheim would take her to cocktail and dinner parties, luncheons and on trips. Despite his unremarkable career in the UN – he is best remembered for his arid and ponderous style – Karas-Waldheim says: ‘I saw that he was respected by the whole world. I was so proud of him.’ She was a trained gold and silversmith; but when Waldheim told her that she should study law, she did.

Karas-Waldheim cannot admit even the possibility that her father could be guilty ‘He never gave me any reason not to trust him or think he was lying.’ The greatest proof for her, if she needed it, was that her father managed to keep ‘cool and smiling’ throughout his presidential campaign. ‘It’s very tough to constantly defend yourself over something that you didn’t do. And difficult to lie, or lie on someone’s behalf, for a long time. If his conscience were not 1,000 per cent clean, he would have cracked.’

I ask whether it is not every daughter’s duty to defent her father? ‘It’s not out of duty,’ she snaps. ‘It is the only thing you can do when you love someone who is being attacked and treated unjustly.’ Her mother, she says, is still ‘madly in love’ with the man she met when they were both studying for law degrees. ‘After 43 years of marriage she is still extremely in love with my father and she wants to help him.’

Has she ever thought, in her darkest moments, that her father might have been associated with murderers? She is as taken aback at the word as she is when I mention Kluas Barbie – ‘Barbie was guilty, so should be punished, even after all these years.’ Then ‘No,’ she says in answer to the question about her father. Even if ‘they’ find something, it will, she says, be a forgery or invention.

Hypothetically, if he were guilty, she would defend him. ‘Being a daughter, the most important thing would be to defend your father. My main concern would be to keep his spirits lifted.’ When I ask her what she will tell her children about their grandfather, she is ruffled. The fact that lies can get out of hand, is the gist of her reply.

Karas-Waldheim regards the WJC, who sowed the seeds of doubt about her father’s military career, as a ‘bunch of radicals’, ‘a small group of baddies’, interested in spreading hatred and yearning to achieve a high profile as Nazi hunters. ‘I don’t think they could give a damn about my father: they just want to defend their good reputation. Of course the WJC have approached me. I don’t want to do anything to do with them.’

She doesn’t think that the children of those Jews who were killed have the right to persecute her father. ‘Particularly since he has proved that he didn’t do anything wrong.’ Jews, she adds, were not the only victims in the war. ‘But the children of these victims are making an innocent victim of my father.’

Waldheim’s supposed misfortunes initially produced a rallying of support and waves of antisemitism in Austria. Karas-Waldheim says she is not antisemitic. She says she has Jewish friends – ‘as does my father’. She receives crank telephone calls and hate mail (her friends are amused at the rapidity with which she changes her telephone number). Has her father received threats? ‘I don’t know if he tells me everything,’ she says in a rare concession.

Waldheim remains on the Watchlist, barred from the US. ‘Who cares?’ she says. with a great deal of care. ‘I wish he weren’t. But I am sure they will soon take him off and apologize.’ The fact that Austria is isolated – his controversial visit to the Pope last June and his trip to Jordon broke a year-long diplomatic quarantine – is not something that she recognizes. ‘He didn’t become President to see the world,’ she says sitting in the government office in which she works out the logistics of Austria joining the EEC.

People, she adds, were not outraged by his audience with the Pope. ‘They were proud. They flew a few people in to be outraged.’ Whether or not Waldheim receives the Pope on the papal visit to Austria this June depends on the findings of Hans Kurz and the other historians investigating the president’s wartime activities. There is no question, according to his daughter, that Waldheim should step down. Wherever she goes with him, she says, they hear cheering. ‘He is the luckiest president. There has never been one that the Austrians have shown their approval of so much.’

Sue Smith first went shooting 20 years ago, when she was seven. Her father, a gun-smith, took her on a duck shoot. At 10, she was giver her first gun, ‘a 28-bore, the next size up from a 410’. She went pigeon shooting.

Then she started deer-stalking. ‘I got my first roebuck at 12,’ she says. ‘I’ve got a picture of it.’ In the following years she shot fallow deer, then red stags. Now she shoots pheasant and rabbits, too.

Smith, who works for a gunsmith as a professional gun finisher, is a crack shot. She is also anti those who are anti-blood sports, although she finds their views acceptable if they are vegetarians.

‘Most of them are just rent-a-gang, student recruits paid Pounds 15 a day to disrupt things.’

To those genuinely concerned about creatures’ suffering, she says: ‘An animal in an abattoir suffers far more because it knows it is going to be killed. When you stalk a deer, for instance, it doesn’t even know you are there.’ Occasionally, she concedes, a bird gets wounded. ‘But it is picked up instantly.’

She never feels upset about killing. ‘What? With the things I have to do as part of my work? Gutting rabits, skinning them, gralloching (gutting) deer and butchering them?’ Her father has started up an oven-ready enterprise.

She derives immense pleasure fom her sports. ‘I love being in the open air and getting exercise.’ Duck shooting is her favourite.

‘It’s the atmosphere out there on the marshes, when there are just three of you shooting in the dark. It’s freezing, and then you come back to a lovely fire.’ As far as pheasant shooting is concerned, she says: ‘It’s a bit naughty, but I suppose it is the thrill of seeing them drop from the sky.’

And rabbits? ‘You sit in clumps of grass or little hollows to get out of the wind and it’s fun because of the element of surprise.

Rosemary Cleverdon, the 49-year-old Joint master of the West Street Hunt, also enjoys the element of surprise. ‘We only get about one in every 25 foxes; they’re terribly crafty.

A former secretary in South Africa, she has been hunting for 15 years. ‘It’s exciting to see a pack work their way through a wood on the line of the fox. When they find a fox, the adrenalin gets going and the chase is rather fun.’ She says it gives her something to look forward to when everyone else is dreading winter.

The haunt takes out approximately 15 1/2 couples of hounds – ‘you talk about hounds in ‘couples’ and always take out an odd number’ – twice weekly from November to mid-March. In season, she probably dedicates about 25 hours a week to hunting.

With the other two Masters, she has to ‘draw covers’ (put the hounds into woods to try to find the fox) and decide where the hunt should go. She also has to obtain permission from the farmers, build a jump occasionally, organize fundraising events, visit the kennels, exercise her horses Mish and Dudley, and go to ‘masses of meetings.’

As Joint Master of the hunt, she maintains charge of the ‘field’ when they ‘move off’ (tells them where to go), and talks their way out of sticky situations if, for example, the hounds chase sheep or go into a garden.

She is not paid for her work; she pays a subscription to the hunt and contributes towards drinks at the meet. She estimates that a season’s hunting in her area costs at least Pounds 1,000.

‘A good coat costs about Pounds 800 and you pay aroung Pounds 250 for handmade leather boots,’ she adds.

The hunt expects to kill ’10 brace of foxes’ in a season. It is, she feels, the fairest and cleanest way to keep the animals down.

‘It’s a way of conservation – it is a service for the farmers – and the fox has an equal chance. Unlike shooting, you cannot just wound the animal.

‘Fortunately,’ she says, ‘we haven’t had too much trouble for the antis.’

Betty McKeever, an 86-year-old great grandmother and Master of the Blean beagles, says she had a ‘helluva’ time with them last season.

One of them – ‘some darned chap called Hey Ho or something’ – apparently gave them an awful ‘pasting’. In the subsequent chase, a policeman broke his ankle and had to be ‘carried off the field of battle.’ One day she was arrested.

As a matter of policy, she says she won’t allow ‘fisticuffs’. One of her fellow beaglers, she explains, disguises himself as a tree and watches out for people who squirt the hounds with acid.

Despite a recent hip replacement and failing eyesight, this season she has followed the hounds, walking for more than one and a half miles and has had a ‘rippling’ time.

McKeever’s mastership dates from 1909, when her father gave her some beagles. She has been in the parish almost all her life – she now lives in a part-13th century farmhouse with a pet bat.

As Master, she is responsible or the hounds’ upkeep. ‘I feed ’em on bibles (bullocks’ stomachs).’ They hunt from September – ‘as soon as we can get on the corn land’ – until March.

mcKeever has a huntsman and two or three amateur whips on a Saturday. On thursdays, a doctor, who is ‘supposed to be the best nuclear physicist in the world or something’, hunts the pack.

It is, says McKeever, an elderly or really young person’s sport. Three gentlemen in their seventies always go out with her.

She explains her enjoyment: ‘For a kick-off, you are in different country every time: Lovely woods, huge arable lands or marsh country.’ Beagling is very social, too, she says. On Boxing Day they meet at the Brewery, ‘all free drinks’.

If beagling is made illegal, she says firmly that she will move with her pack to Ireland. She doesn’t like killing anything unnecessarily but, she says, the hares damage fruit trees and are otherwise hunted by the fox, shot or snared.

‘I never feel guilty about killing them. I don’t think they think the way Beatrix Potter made out.’

The first incident of sales promotion in action, according to lain Arthur, occurred in Genesis, in the Garden of Eden. Adam ate an apple from the Tree of Knowledge and paid the price. In this case the snake was the salesman, the tree was superbly merchandised, with excellent display support material and the price was self doubt. ‘So what part of Eve have to play in this point-of-sale decision to purchase?’

Arthur is the managing director of Kingsland Lloyd Peterson, a sales promotion agency. He was speaking to more than 100 delegates (60 per cent of whom were women) at International Business Communications’ ‘Advertising and Marketing to Women’ two-day conference this week.

Women are important to advertisers; more than 70 per cent of advertising is now aimed at them. (Call it Pounds 350 million to the advertiser, if you will. ) ‘Women are more important than men’, in the laconic words of speaker Carol Reay, management planning director of Jenner Keating Becker Reay advertising agency. In 1987 women have more spending power than ever before. They may be 42 per cent of the labour force, but they account of 80 per cent of consumer expenditure. And research shows that their self-preceptions are changing. Their need for ‘self-identigty’ is growing.

Yet many speakers at the conference maintained that the attentions of advertisers are being misdirected. Kay Scorah, an advertising consultant, spoke particularly of the lost tribe of the post-war generation: the ‘greying’ population, in ad speak. ‘a lot of energy and attention is devoted to young people and yuppies,’ she said, ‘but perhaps because we all refuse to grow old, we have neglected the over-45s. ‘ By the year 2000, more than 23 per cent of the population will be aged between 45 and 64; they will have well in excess of Pounds 18.8 billion of disposable income, and make their own decisions about spending it. Scorah believes it is well worth learning how to, in her words, ‘seduce the older women’.

‘How can it be that there is such a vast amount of out-of-touch advertising around for women?’ asked Reay. She cited the advertisements for Timotei shampoo, with its image of a woman in a poppy field. ‘An ultra-romantic portrayal that stands out for its inappropriateness. ‘ The image-making business ‘had got the image wrong’.

‘To date, the marketeer and advertiser alike have treated women as uniform and as captive – usually at the kitchen sink,’ explained Ann-Marie Dyas, bvoard account director at Boase Massimi Pollitt advertising agency. ‘The minute you describe your target audience as ‘housewives’ or ‘mothers’ or ‘career women’, you are into repression and not expression. ‘ The advertisers repertoire of stereotypes, she said, consist of the glamorous woman (a model) with an ‘interesting’ job and probably a BMW or two in the garage; and the unglamorous woman (a mum) living life at the bottom in a spotless kitchen. ‘Women don’t mind being shown doing domestic things, as long as they are seen to be competent and have outside interests. Just as they don’t object to nudity as long as it is seen to be relevant to the product – like suncream or a shower. ‘

Raising the standards, more research, casting at script stage and generally taking more account of women’s views will help to break the moulds, Increasingly women are buying values rather than products. ‘Philosophy and imagery are the new USPs (unique selling propositions),’ explained Dyas. Equality is what is desired; and equality for women is not about a woman in a bowler hat.

It is about changing fan belts rather than hitching lifts, as the Pretty Polly television commercial. Competent yet retaining her feminity: she wears stockings, but she also knows hwo to use them to replace the fan-belt.

In the world of advertising fantasy, women’s aspiratins rarely match the advertisers conceptions. ‘Women resent our obsession with the young and beautiful,’ Dyas said. ‘They are asking us – loudly – to show more ordinary real women in advertising. ‘

Some have already got there. ‘Both Oxo and Persil, in their different ways, are widely seen as accurate and enjoyable reflections of contemporary life, featuring modern mothers who combine humour, character, warmth and – most important of all – intelligence and individuality,’ explained Judie Lannon of J Walter Thompson. Oxo ads shown a realistic family life, with warts and all sympathetically portrayed. Persil gets away from the traditional washing machine syndrome with its stylish use of a punk and his washing.

But, to return to the Garden of Eden, it is worth remembering that Eve was in fact the deciding influence: the purchaser of the point-of-sale.