“Stupid curfew.” Laila wrinkled her nose. “But you don’t have to come.”
“I want to, and we can talk in private at the villa. So, deliver the flyers to the office, then warn your family and go home and pack. If you have extra time—”
“Could you—would you pack for me? That’d give me more time. Just one suitcase.”
“I’d be happy to.”
In less than an hour, Else rushed upstairs at the boardinghouse. After she stashed flyers in her dresser to distribute the next day, she filled Laila’s suitcase with clothing, toiletries, and Laila’s most cherished personal items.
What if Laila never returned? Else’s chest convulsed, but a flame lit deep inside, hot and searing. How could anyone treat a fellow human being like this? How could anyone hate people they’d never met, just because of their heritage, and want them locked away or dead?
How could anyone hate Laila Berend, a brilliant mathematician who loved æbleskiver and hated roller coasters, who gave up a promising career to help her nation?
After Else checked for treasures she might have missed, she latched the suitcase.
Fru Riber would be in the kitchen preparing dinner, thank goodness. Else didn’t want to explain why she was leaving with a suitcase.
She trotted downstairs without seeing anyone and walked a few blocks to Nørreport.
At the station, she bought her ticket and waited on the platform for the Kystbanen line. She was one of only a few blonds on the platform, an unusual occurrence in Denmark.
Families clumped together with luggage and watchful expressions.
Else’s heart lurched. They were probably going into hiding in the country or in the summer cottages owned by so many Danes. Would they be safe there? Would they be safe anywhere?
Two German soldiers strolled down the platform in their cold gray uniforms, and Else’s fingers went numb. But the soldiers sauntered by, talking and laughing.
In a few minutes, Laila and her mother greeted Else.
“Where’s the rest of your family?” Else asked in a low voice.
“My uncle and his family are in that car.” Laila tipped her head to the right, then the left. “My sister and her family in that one.”
“That’s all?”
Laila rubbed her forehead. “Some don’t believe me. Some insist they’re safe because they don’t even think of themselves as Jewish. And my father and a few others are staying one more day to make arrangements for their homes and businesses.”
Else frowned at her friend’s pale complexion. “Do you have a migraine?”
“All day.”
“I’m sorry. Maybe you can sleep on the train.”
“No, but I can close my eyes.”
When the train pulled into the station, Else, Laila, and Fru Berend boarded and took facing seats. Laila spent the journey with her head on her mother’s shoulder and her eyes shut, and Else spent it praying for the families on the train.
Could all of the six or seven thousand Jews in Denmark be warned in time? If so, could they all go into hiding? And if they evaded arrest, what then?
They couldn’t spend the rest of the war in hiding. Even if the Allies defeated Germany in 1944 as many predicted, how could that many people hide that long?
Maybe some could sneak across to Sweden, but for the others, it would be only a matter of time until the Gestapo hunted them down.
Else shuddered. Through the train window, the Øresund flashed between beech trees in the afternoon sun. For now, Else could warn people and help them hide. For now, that would have to do.
When the train arrived in Vedbæk, Laila opened pain-wracked eyes, and the three ladies stepped out onto the train platform with their luggage.
Fru Berend nodded to two groups on either side. “They’ll follow at a distance.”
