‘No!’ Her voice softened. ‘I don’t think that will be necessary. If you could look after Klara and this.’
He braced his shoulders and took what was offered. The significance was not lost on him. ‘You trust the enemy to look after your food rations. I’m impressed,’ he teased.
‘I’m desperate.’ She looked around for somewhere to hide. ‘I’ll just take a short walk.’ She waved her hand vaguely to her right. ‘Over there somewhere. Not far.’
Sam looked in the opposite direction, but not before she caught a glimpse of his smile. ‘We’ll walk over there and search for berries... or something.’
She explained to Klara and the little girl obediently followed him.
‘Thank you,’ she blurted out.
He turned and gallantly tilted his head.
‘I think you are enjoying this.’
‘We’ll meet again in five minutes,’ Sam replied, chuckling.
Elsa sidled away, relieved she had finally broached the subject. She walked further than she said she would, thanks to the fear he would see her hitching up her skirt and crouching like an animal. It suddenly mattered very much how he viewed her, and being ungainly, ungraceful, unfeminine, was very high up on her list of things that she wanted to avoid. Several times she turned, and although reassured to see their figures in the distance, she was relieved when they finally disappeared from view.
She selected a suitable tree to hide behind and, for a short while, embraced the solitude she found there. The stress and strains of the war, particularly during the past year, had taken their toll. It was reassuring to have Sam with her now, although there was always the fear they would be found out. What was the punishment for collaborating with the enemy? Was walking with the enemy collaborating? She stared at the trunk in front of her and watched an insect ease its way under a piece of bark. How low she had sunk, forced to barter for or steal food and now she was in a wood squatting like an animal at the base of a tree.
When she had finished, she stood and straightened her clothes with sharp tugs before taking a few precious moments to tidy her appearance before seeing Sam again. She promised herself she would have a bath in the next river they came across — even if it meant washing in the snow. She had slept and lived in her clothes for far too long now, and although combing her hair and rubbing her teeth with her fingers would make little difference to her appearance, she still felt compelled to follow the nearby sound of water and wash briskly in a small stream before she went back to him.
She stopped mid-brush. Every one of her senses inexplicably told her that she was no longer alone. There was no sound, no passing shadow, no change of smell in the air, yet she felt theirgaze upon her, like a heavy lead weight, stripping her of any advantage and making her as vulnerable as if she were standing naked on a stage.
She stood up and turned around, ready to fight or run. Seconds, filled with eerie silence, ticked by. Her thumping heart sent panic coursing through her veins. It took all her will to remain still, trying to sense what the threat was, where the threat was. If there was even a threat at all.
More seconds ticked by. Gradually, her anxiety began to fade with no new sound or sight to feed it. Nothing was different to when she had arrived at the tree, she reassured herself. The majestic pines that surrounded her still looked the same and despite how she had just felt, in truth there was nothing sinister nearby to harm her. She was being silly and frightening herself.
She breathed in deeply and allowed her clenched fists to unfurl. Her trembling fingers felt weak as a kitten. She had almost let hysteria control her. This blind panic had overcome her twice now. If this became a habit she would become a liability. She smiled to herself and shook her hands to encourage the blood to return. It was as she took her first step back to Sam and Klara that she was sent sprawling to the ground, her breath snatched away from her.
Dazed, she lifted her head to find herself staring at the carpet of rotting pine needles. Someone was behind her. Her coat was roughly torn from her body by whoever it was. She scrambled to her knees and turned around. One young man was staring at her, the other frantically searching her coat pockets. His hungry gaze scared her more than what the two men had just done. The realization that they were willing to do anything brought her to her feet like no theft could.
‘That’s mine. Give it to me!’ She tugged at her coat, but the man guarding her wrenched it out of her grasp and pushed her backwards.
‘It’s ours now.’
Elsa watched in despair. Her survival depended on keeping warm. ‘You can’t have it. That coat is mine!’
They ignored her and began to tear at the lining in search of valuables. She tried to grab it from the taller man but he was able to lift it out of her reach.
‘Go away! Haven’t you got a house to clean?’ A smirk formed on his face as he looked at her clothes. ‘Or some clothes to wash?’
His words wounded her more than she cared to admit. Did Sam see what they saw? Anger came to her rescue and she immediately turned his words back on him.
‘You don’t look any better. You look like you have been sleeping rough yourself.’
Her words slid off them like water.
Elsa frowned. None of this made sense. They wore the uniforms of the Volkssturm militia but did not have the pride that so often went with it.
‘How old are you?’ she asked. ‘Seventeen? Sixteen?’ Her gaze swept over their dirty, crumpled clothes. ‘Why are you here? You are old enough to be fighting.’
‘Shut up!’ snapped the taller of the two.
Elsa had hit a nerve. ‘You have refused to fight! You are hiding here!’
‘We’re losing.’ He threw her coat back at her. ‘Why should I risk my life now?’
