The room was dusty and dark, with one double bed littered with rubble. Sam tore off the top sheet, sending up a cloud of dust and small debris into the air. Before the last brick fragment had stopped rolling across the wooden floor he had reached for her and they were kissing again as they both hurriedly took turns shedding each other’s clothes and discarding their own. He cupped her face. His hands were trembling against her skin as if he feared she might break.
‘So beautiful,’ he murmured as his gaze absorbed each feature of her face.
Trembling, she placed her hand on one of his, turned into it and kissed his palm. He groaned softly as her lips moved downwards to the delicate skin of his inner wrist. He reached for her again and she welcomed his own sensual exploration... Her head fell back in wonder as his trail of kisses, from her neck down the body, finally brought him to his knees.
* * *
Sam woke with a start to Klara shaking his shoulder violently and with one finger pressed firmly against her own lips. Every one of his senses snapped into high alert. He waited and listened. Despite the reassuring sound of Elsa’s soft breaths beside him, the house was silent... yet something felt different.
He heard a car door opening outside. Muffled male German voices carried to him through the window.
He woke Elsa with a gentle shake of her arm. She opened her eyes. They widened as she noticed his expression and Klara standing by the bed. He shook his head and pressed a single finger against his lips just as Klara had done moments before. Her gaze darted to the window when she heard the voices too.
They quickly, silently, dressed. He chanced a peek out of the window. Soldiers, lots of them, getting out of the back of a truck, rubble crunching under their boots. He ducked down before anyone looked up. Elsa, Sam and Klara froze as someone banged his fist on the front door and shouted.
Elsa translated. ‘They want to know if anyone is here. They are looking for food.’
‘They’ll see the plates in the sink. They will know we are here.’
Elsa finished securing her skirt around her waist. ‘I will speak to them. Remember, you are my mute half-brother.’
He grabbed her arm. ‘No! Wait. Stall them so I can try climbing out a back window.’
The door burst open downstairs and the soldiers entered, their determined footsteps thudding around the kitchen below.
A chair scraped across the floor downstairs, followed by a burst of laughter.
‘They won’t harm you and Klara. It’s being with me that will get you in trouble.’
She grabbed his arm. ‘You promised we would stay together.’
Sam straightened and stared at her anew. Was she mad or naive? She knew nothing of the blackness that drove a man to blast another man’s face away. He didn’t want her to be responsible for his life while he stood impotent without even a voice to call his own. She had done it before. He didn’t want that to happen again.
‘They will kill me if they find out I’m Britishandthey will treat you badly if they find out you are helping me. Stay here and I will put some distance between us. They are not going to harm you or Klara if you are not linked to me.’
She hugged Klara. ‘You can’t promise that.’
They could hear voices outside where some soldiers must have stayed with the truck. His only escape route was at the back of the house and time was running out.
‘Where you go, we go.’
He looked at Klara and then at Elsa’s determined face. None of this made sense. Why would she not just pretend this was her house, give the soldiers some eggs and let them be on their way? Why was she so afraid of her own country’s soldiers? The soldiers burst into more laughter at the front of the house. There was no time to lose.
They made their way to the back window, but the drop was too far and the ground too scattered with jutting bricks andrubble for them to risk. Defeated, he picked up Klara and led the way down the back stairs to the back door.
Each step threatened to creak beneath their feet, and although he wanted to hurry, he was forced to move gradually, testing each wooden plank before fully giving the step his weight. At times he failed, but by sheer luck the jovial conversation in the kitchen smothered the noise and allowed them to continue.
At the bottom he saw that the sun was shining through the open front door and bathing the floor of the hall in light. At the other end was the closed back door. No one was there to block their escape. It was time to leave. He nodded to Elsa that all was clear, stepped into the warmth and headed for the back door with Klara in his arms.
He was about to open the door when the light suddenly dulled behind them. They stopped and turned.
A silhouette of a soldier, haloed by light, stood in the front doorway looking at them. He stepped forward, revealing a rifle hanging limply by his side, a rising thread of cigarette smoke from his hand and an emotionless expression on his face. He slowly lifted the cigarette as he watched them, inhaled deeply and exhaled upwards. An arc of smoke lifted between them as if he was spraying them with an imaginary machine gun.
He called out in a tone that was neither angry nor friendly, stubbed his cigarette on the floor with the heel of his boot and jerked his head for them to enter before him. With a locked door at their back, they had little choice but to obey, yet neither moved.
Sam clenched his fists in the vain hope he would be ready if needed, but Elsa was in charge now. She and Klara were the only ones who spoke German. They were the only ones who could talk them out of this. Did Klara understand the consequences if Samwas discovered? She was just a child and his life was as much in her delicate small hands as Elsa’s.
Elsa finally found her voice and began to speak to the soldier. Although her voice was tentative and friendly, Sam had come to know her well and could hear the fear in her throat. The conversation sounded amiable enough, despite the back-and-forth patter of questions and answers. She touched Sam’s arm briefly as she introduced him as Frantz. He felt the covert pressure of her fingertips beseeching him to play along. The soldier studied his face for a few seconds as if trying to find some resemblance between them. His gaze slid to Klara’s dark head. He stared at her face, a frown of confusion on his brow.
