I turned to go—and then I heard it. Footsteps. A pause. And then the locks being released and the doorknob turning.
Suddenly, I was looking into the familiar green eyes of my former nanny. She looked scared, but like the clouds parting to reveal the sun, recognition began to dawn and the fear turned to something else.
“Fräulein?” she said in a whisper.
“Hallo, Paulina,” I said, taking in the woman who had cared for me and my sister lovingly for years.
She was thinner, her round face showing the signs of scant food at the ready, her clothes hanging on her frame more than hugging it. There was gray in her light brown hair, and wrinkles around her eyes. But the gentle smile on her face was one I knew well.
“Hallo, kleiner Hase,”she said.
I couldn’t help it. I smiled back.Little bunnywas what she had called Catrin and me. But a moment later the terror of the situation came back to me and my smile disappeared.
“I am here to see my sister,” I said.
She looked over her shoulder, hesitating, and then back at me, clearly trying to decide the right thing to do. Letting me in after being gone so long, having clearly duped them all, would be a transgression my mother might not forgive her. I was a traitor.
“Your mother is not well,” she said, avoiding my mention of Catrin.
“I know. That’s partly why I’ve come.” It was a lie. I didn’t care if I never saw my mother again, but whatever it took to find out where Catrin was, I would do.
She nodded and her shoulders sagged, and then she pressed a finger to her lips, took a step back, and opened the door wider.
Despite finding my way here, I wasn’t prepared for the emotions that filled my entire being as I stepped inside my childhood home. The furnishings, though still opulent, had faded with age, the brass and silver losing much of their shine, the windows covered in dust on the outside, clouding the view of the city, which was probably for the best.
I stepped lightly, as was habit in this household, the only one allowed to make a sound being my father, his foot strikes marking his place in our home. I had tried often to steer clear of those footsteps.
I touched a vase, trailed my fingers along a tabletop, glanced at the chandeliers, recalled a peaceful moment in a corner chair after my parents had left for a night of dining and drinking, and then stood at the foot of the curved staircase and looked up, gasping at the sight that greeted me.
“Thankfully there were still men around at the time to help patch it,” Paulina said, her voice barely more than a whisper as she came to stand beside me.
At the top of the stairs where the landing led off to different hallways and bedrooms, the ceiling had caved in, leaving a large gaping hole that had been covered with several long boards.
“Was it a bomb?” I asked.
“It hit two buildings over, but the blast pushed through the one next to us and into our roof. There’s more damage farther down the hallway.”
Farther down the hallway was where Catrin’s and my rooms had been.
“It’s still there,” Paulina said. “Exactly as you left it.”
I blew out a breath and gripped the handrail. I didn’t want to see the remnants of the childhood I’d run from. It wasn’t why I was here.
“I’ve only come to see Catrin. And to say goodbye to my mother.”
She touched my sleeve, her eyes meeting mine, and I wondered why she was still here. As far as I knew, my sister hadn’t lived here in years, and even if she had, a nanny wouldn’t still be needed now when Catrin was a woman of twenty. Why had Paulina stayed on? And where was the rest of the staff? Obviously not all were needed with only one woman to tend to, but my mother had always had a small entourage to accommodate her every need and whim.
“Where’s the rest of the staff, Paulina?” I asked. “August? Ingrid?” I looked around, expecting my mother’s secretary to appear in the doorway of the study my mother had conducted her meetings in.
But Paulina shook her head and then motioned for me to follow her to the kitchen where she shut the door so we couldn’t be heard.
“They are all gone,” she said, moving to the kitchen table and taking a seat. “Ingrid fled early on. The maid soon after. August stayed to look after the house when we left to stay in the country estate. When we returned last year, he was gone, having left a note to say he was going to stay with his daughter and her family. And Freya, the cook, was killed when the ceiling caved in. She had just delivered food to your mother when the blast took her.”
I bowed my head. I had always liked Freya. A stern woman, she hadn’t been averse to spoiling Cat and me with little treats every now and then.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “That must’ve been hard for you to lose so many people. But...how did you end up staying with both Catrin and me gone?”
She shrugged.
