Gerrit could no more comfort the brother than he could the sister, and he clamped useless hands together.
“She won’t listen to me,” Ivy said. “She doesn’t respect me.”
“She won’t listen to me either,” Opal said. “If it’s true, she’s already justified it all—the consequences to her marriage, her reputation, your reputation and Charlie’s.”
A loud groan from Ivy. “I promised Dad I’d look after the practice, look after the family. I’m failing.”
Gerrit’s fingers stretched toward the kitchen door. How could she think that?
“Oh, Ivy.” Her aunt spoke in a gentle tone. “You care deeply for your patients and your family. Everyone can see. Charlie and Fern are responsible for their own decisions. You are not.”
Ivy couldn’t control such things.
Neither could Gerrit.
chapter
21
St. Helier
Tuesday, July 13, 1943
Ivy knocked on Thelma Galais’s door, and it was opened by Aunt Opal, who had attended Thelma overnight.
Ivy removed her summer hat. “How is she this morning?”
“It won’t be long. She hasn’t eaten for three days.”
No amount of persuasion helped, and Ivy sighed. She’d seen it with many patients in their final days, but this was Thelma.
“She’s sleeping now.” Aunt Opal gave her a sympathetic look. “The rector and Ethel de Puy are here, so I’ll go home.”
“Thank you. I’ll see you later.” Sleep was a blessing for Thelma—and for Ivy. She needed to ring Joan de Ferrers, and she didn’t want to waste even one of Thelma’s waking moments.
After Aunt Opal left, Ivy rang the chemist. “I’d like to place a prescription for both Mr. and Mrs. Hooper. Please mix sulfur ointment, 20 percent.” Far higher than the usual strength and for two patients, letting her know two fugitives needed to be moved.
“Did you say 20 percent?” Joan asked.
“I insist. They both have a bad case of scabies.”
A pause. “Only the two of them?” Joan knew the Hoopers sheltered three fugitives.
“Their farmworkers managed toescapethe infestation.” Ivy placed the slightest stress on the wordescape, hoping Joan would understand—one of the fugitives had disappeared.
Demyan Marchenko. At dawn, one of the Hoopers’ horses had trotted up to the farmhouse, reins hanging loose. Demyan was nowhere to be found.
The Hoopers had summoned Ivy for an emergency visit. They were frantic. If the Germans caught Demyan and he talked, the Hoopers, the two other fugitives, and everyone in the ring would be in danger.
“Sulfur,” Joan said. “It’ll be ready within the hour.”
“Thank you.” Ivy hung up.
Joan would ring the next person up the “lifeline,” who would see to transferring the two fugitives to another home straightaway.
Ivy gave herself a little shake. She’d done all she could for the escapees. Now to see to Thelma.
Upstairs, deep murmurs rose from Thelma’s bedroom.
