Aunt Opal rolled the top of her blanket in her hands. “I so worry about Arthur.”
He was rather pathetic without his wife. “Fern and Aunt Ruby take turns bringing him dinner, and Charlie and I visit whenever we can.”
“I know, but Christmas.”
Ivy patted her aunt’s blanketed knee. “Aunt Ruby will host a lovely holiday.”
“Your sister too.” Aunt Opal’s pale lips spread in a smile. “Arthur said she’s hosting her own dinner this year.”
“She is.” Fern’s dark mood had passed, and she hummed and sang as she made La Bliue Brise festive. “She invited several people who have nowhere else to go.”
“How kind of her.”
“Yes, and mysterious.” Ivy lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “She won’t tell us whom she’s invited.”
“What would we do without our Fern?”
“Indeed, what?” Ivy’s smile twitched. She said goodbye to her aunt and made her way outside. After she brushed leaves off her bicycle seat, she coasted downhill along Westmount Road, then pedaled along The Parade toward King Street.
Despite her improved mood, Fern hadn’t made any of Ivy’s requested changes and blithely switched subjects if Ivy made inquiries.
Recently, when Ivy visited her more ambulatory patients, she explained her situation and asked whether they’d be willing to come to town in the future. Almost all agreed, some with apologies for their lack of consideration, which Ivy defused. Only a few insisted on home visits, and Ivy would continue to oblige them.
Over time, her rounds would become less frenzied.
The streets of St. Helier teemed with shoppers even though the shops were all but empty, including the elegant de Gruchy department store, which had once sold the finest suits and dresses. Now clothing was rationed and scarce. Long queues trailed from the grocers as people waited to purchase their extra Christmas rations of four ounces of chocolate and four ounces of sugar, a delight since rationing provided only three ounces of sugar a week.
Ivy cycled past Carter’s Chemist’s. Miss de Ferrers hadn’t summoned her for a clandestine medical visit in weeks. Did any escapees even remain in hiding?
In the past few weeks, the Germans had rounded up two dozen escaped Russian workers. Although they promised the escapees would not receive severe punishment, only closer confinement and the loss of certain privileges, no one believed them.
Ivy longed to know if Henry and the other two patients she’d treated had evaded arrest. But inquiring about such matters would yield no answers.
A young man with honed features strolled down the pavement, and his gaze pierced Ivy as if he’d heard her thoughts. His shiny new shoes and crisp new civilian coat announced his German nationality, his membership in the secret police.
Ivy’s bicycle wobbled, but she kept her expression blank.
Since when did caring for the oppressed become a crime?
chapter
13
St. Helier
Friday, December 25, 1942
Gerrit paused on the doorstep holding the box of Dutch chocolates his mother had sent him. The bright blue door signaled welcome, but only two-thirds of the home’s inhabitants would actually welcome him.
Bernardus would have no qualms ringing the bell, but Bernardus had caught the flu.
Only Charlie’s insistence that Ivy Picot was celebrating Christmas with Mrs. Galais had persuaded Gerrit and Bernardus to accept the invitation. That and the anticipation of spending the day with their bright young friend.
Their courier.
Gerrit had used every drop of lemon juice to draw a map, and over the course of two weeks, Bernardus had sent sections of that map to his contacts, folded inside Charlie’s shoes. Charlie had promised to be discreet over Christmas dinner, and Gerrit trusted him.
But what if the sweet-faced physician learned Gerrit had entered her home?
