A police siren wailed behind them, building in volume.
Laila glanced back, and her step faltered. “The police.”
“Good.”
“Not good.” She charged forward. “They could arrest us just for being here. I have stencils.”
“Oh no.” She couldn’t let Laila get caught.
Two women hurled potatoes at a man in a black Schalburg Corps uniform, and Else dodged them.
Her breath heaving, she passed two Frikorps thugs beating up a redheaded man.
A cross street. “This way!” Else rounded the corner.
The crowd thinned, and the women broke into a full run. In another block, they cleared the riot area.
Else leaned forward to catch her breath. “What was that about?”
“I don’t know. But if they knew ... knew I was Jewish.” Laila hugged her package, and furrows etched her forehead.
Else straightened up and rubbed her friend’s taut arm. “What happened to my brave freedom fighter?”
Laila gave her a wan smile. “I prefer to fight on paper.”
“Come on. Let’s go home.”
They couldn’t find a tram, and with their detour, it took forty-five long minutes to reach the boardinghouse.
As they climbed the stairs, Laila winced and pressed a hand to her stomach.
“Are you all right?” Else asked. “I hope you’re not coming down with Hemming’s illness.” On Sunday evening, he’d come home pale, with a rattling cough. He’d asked Fru Riber to call the shipyard and tell them he couldn’t work for at least a week. And on Monday, he hadn’t come down for meals.
“Migraine coming.” Laila’s face pinched. “Need to lie down.”
“I’m sorry.”
Laila held out one hand. “I’ll take your things. Go on in to dinner.”
Else puckered her mouth in sympathy and handed her roommate her briefcase, hat, and package. “I’ll be quiet when I come in.”
A nod of gratitude, and Laila trudged up to their floor.
After she smoothed her hair and her nerves, Else entered the living room. Fru Riber would worry if she heard they’d gotten caught in a riot.
Bustling noises came from the kitchen, and Else joined her landlady.
“Oh, Else!” Fru Riber held a baking pan. “Is it dinnertime already? I’m late. So much chaos in the streets. It took ages to do my shopping. It’ll be at least an hour.”
“Don’t cook for Laila. She has another migraine.” Else reached for an apron on a hook by the door. “How’s Hemming?”
“He hasn’t come down all day—or yesterday.” She set the pan on the table. “When I’m upstairs, I can hear him coughing. And I hear him come down to the bathroom on the men’s floor. But I’m concerned.”
“Oh dear.” Else frowned at the ceiling. “I should check on him.”
“Could you?” Fru Riber unwrapped a package of fish. “I made tea and broth for him. Would you take him a tray? Let me know if we need to call a doctor.”
“I will.” Else pulled a tray from the shelf. Fru Riber could be brusque with Hemming, but she had a good heart, and she’d been especially nice to him since Midsummer Eve.
