‘Don’t leave it too long,’ she chided, not unkindly. ‘If I persuade my family to leave, I will be leaving too. You could come with us.’
He shook his head. ‘I would never make the trip.’
She smiled sadly. ‘That is what my grandfather says. I hope to persuade him otherwise.’
‘You sound determined.’
‘I am determined... even if that means I have to carry him myself.’
She was turning to leave when he suddenly grasped her hand. His strong grip surprised and unnerved her.
‘Promise me you will come and say goodbye before you leave.’
His smile had gone and his pale blue-eyed gaze, which used to sparkle with energy, now held urgent desperation. His grip tightened and the hairs on the back of her neck rose... yet she felt compelled to nod that she would. He let go of her hand and she turned away as he bid her farewell and shut the door. She had a sense that her final visit to say goodbye meant far moreto him than she was worthy of and her unease did not leave her until she reached home.
The house was filled with strangers: another new family, fleeing from the Baltic states ahead of the Red Army, had arrived. They did not intend to stay long, a weary matriarch reassured her as she navigated her way to the kitchen.
Elsa offered a kindly smile. ‘Don’t worry. You are all welcome. It is the least we can do.’
‘The man across the street brought them. His rooms are full,’ said her mother as Elsa entered the kitchen. She looked into the basket. ‘You have brought us a feast!’ she lied, her smile trembling. ‘We’d better eat it before the Russians get here.’ Her attempt at a joke was edged with fear.
Elsa began emptying the contents of the basket, glancing up at Frieda, who set about peeling the potatoes and discarding the diseased parts. Frieda was barely fourteen and had her brother’s dreamy imagination, her father’s positive outlook on life and her mother’s good looks. ‘Perhaps they will stop the advance soon,’ Frieda said.
‘It would take a miracle to stop the Red Army,’ replied her mother, dropping the saucepan of water rather too heavily down on the table so that water sloshed over the sides. ‘They hate us. We need a miracle.’
‘We need to leave,’ said Elsa as she unwrapped the two scrawny chicken legs, wondering how she could share them out between five people. ‘The Red Army won’t stop.’
‘Shh. Klaus is here. No more talk of leaving.’
* * *
‘What a feast!’ declared Klaus, her grandfather’s friend, as Elsa set his plate of cabbage, potatoes and a sliver of chicken in front of him. Everyone smiled humourlessly in agreement. Elsa fetched the last two servings and set them down in front of hermother and her own chair, before taking her seat. She looked at the faces around the table as they began eating. The sound of the refugees quietly talking and moving in the spare rooms filtered down to them through the floorboards, casting a veil of tension over the room. Her brother’s chair was empty, her father’s taken up by their visitor. Elsa picked up her knife and fork to pretend all was well, but her thoughts must have showed on her face as her mother gave her a knowing look and glanced at Klaus. It was a subtle reminder to be careful: Klaus still had a poster of Hitler on his living room wall at home. Elsa nodded and began her meal.
‘We try our best,’ replied her mother, as if there had been no pause in conversation at all. ‘Food is in such short supply these days.’ She delicately stabbed her cabbage with her fork. ‘It is a surprise to see you here, Klaus,’ she added as she sliced the green leaves as if they were steak.
Klaus ignored Gretchen and turned to Elsa’s grandfather. ‘It has been a while since I saw you, Gustav, and thought I would find out how you all are.’ He pointed in the vague direction of their spare rooms. ‘How can you give over your house to such cowards?’
Her mother’s jaw tightened and her neckline reddened but Gustav remained calm. ‘They are women and children. How could we turn them away?’
Klaus was not convinced. ‘The Führer wants us to stay and fight. Not run like pigs.’
‘As I said,’ Gustav replied soothingly, ‘they are women and children. The chicken is good, Elsa.’
Elsa agreed, although in truth she had gone without as there was not enough to share among them.
Gustav turned to Klaus. ‘Don’t you think it tastes good, Klaus?’
‘If we don’t fight, we are done for. Hitler needs our support and our loyalty. Those pi—’
‘I will have no more name-calling in this house,’ interrupted Gretchen. ‘Frieda is only fourteen.’
Klaus understood. ‘I’m sorry, Gretchen, but the Russians must be stopped and—’
Gretchen abruptly stood. ‘Must we talk about the war every bloody mealtime!’ Forks froze in mid-air on their way to open mouths. A heavy silence followed and she rushed from the room.
Elsa made to go after her mother, but her grandfather stopped her with the touch of his hand. ‘Two minutes. Give her two minutes.’
‘We are on the defensive, but we can still stop them,’ argued Klaus. ‘The German Army has prisoners of war digging defence trenches on the outskirts of the town as we speak.’
