‘I’m not going anywhere.’
‘Promise?’ she whispered.
He thought of the water bottle lying empty at his feet, Klara blissfully unaware and still asleep and the Allied army, so tantalizingly close, approaching from the west. ‘I promise,’ he lied.
* * *
Sam eased himself away from Elsa’s sleeping body, silently grabbed his rucksack and bottle, and crept to the barn door. He hesitated before he lifted the latch. She looked peaceful and comfortable, which was an improvement, he consoled himself. Yes, her lips were dry and she remained pale, but after a sleep she was more likely to eat and drink again. After drinking something, she would improve. She was too ill to travel but the longer they stayed the more likely it was that they would be discovered and viewed as suspicious. He slung the rucksack over his shoulder and turned away from her sleeping form. He had been lucky so far, he told himself. People were not interested in three more refugees fleeing the east, but it was only a matter of time before someone delved deeper and asked why he was conveniently mute. He needed to get out of Germany and delaying it for too long was putting them all in danger.
He pulled the barn door open and scanned the horizon. About half a mile away, a small village was nestled among towering pine trees. A church tower was just visible above the high-pitched roofs of the village houses, but other than that hecould see very little. He looked back at Elsa. If she woke to find him gone, she would understand. At least, he hoped she would.
The village appeared untouched by the war. A scattered collection of whitewashed houses with timber frames crowded along narrow roads and around a small central square. Morning had broken an hour ago, and the small farming community was already awake. Sam waited in the shadow of one of the trees to observe the scene. A solitary man with a wide-brimmed hat and large moustache appeared from one of the houses. He entered a barn and reappeared almost immediately, leading a horned cow with a bony bent spine. He took his time harnessing it to a wagon before leading it, wheels creaking, out to the fields.
A woman came out from one of the houses carrying a low-brimmed basket hitched on one rounded hip. Although her face was lined, it was difficult to guess her age as her hair was covered with a headscarf tied at the nape of her neck. She made tutting noises through her teeth to call her chickens, and within seconds they appeared from nowhere like frenzied fanatics chasing their idol, a chaotic bundle of flapping wings and flying feathers. With a sweep of her hand, the woman scattered corn on the ground at her feet, instantly bringing order to the mob of hens.
The sound of flowing water snared Sam’s attention. He scanned the yard. In the shade of a tiled roof supported by four posts stood a well pump. A young woman was pumping the long lever with a practised, methodical rhythm. He watched from a distance as clean, refreshing water spouted out of the tube into a large, deep tub. When it was half full she stopped pumping and lifted it onto her back by its straps. She made carrying the weight look easy as she walked away with her fresh supply sloshing on her back.
Sam licked his cracked lips, pulled his hat lower over his head and purposely crossed the path to the four-posted shelter. A hasty glance around and he was soon pumping water intoan empty barrel and dipping his bottles under its surface to fill them. He put them in his rucksack and then drank hungrily from the barrel himself with his cupped hands. As he drank he watched life in the village continue over the brim of his fingers. A shallow stream provided a constant water supply for the village animals. A gaggle of geese stood knee-deep in the water, drinking contently as a young boy, with a stick in his hand, watched over them. Suddenly, the child hurried them out of the water and drove them forward, the geese honking like angry old men disgruntled with the world but not resisting. A teacher guided her young charges across the low stone footbridge, offering caring words to encourage them to follow. The scene reminded him of home, yet he could not ignore the foreign flavour which twisted the knife of homesickness just one more turn.
He heard a window open nearby. He stopped drinking and searched for it, his eyes eventually meeting those of a middle-aged woman. She stood watching him, making it clear she knew he was a stranger in their village and possibly the only young man for miles. It was time he left. He picked up his rucksack, bowed his head and walked quickly away, staring at the ground in case momentary eye contact with another would find him out and he would learn that these kindly villagers had hate in their hearts.
* * *
‘I have water and eggs.’ Sam rummaged in his rucksack as he entered the barn in his eagerness to show her. ‘We’ll have to eat them raw but dogs eat raw eggs if you let them so they can’t be too bad.’ He opened his hand and rearranged the brown eggs in his palm ‘Although dogs eat lots of things so I’m not sure if that is a good recommendation.’ He looked up, smiling. Klara was sitting quietly beside Elsa, with a resentful expression onher face. Elsa had not moved. The shallow rise and fall of her breathing was barely visible. He frowned and stepped forward on legs that felt unusually stiff.
‘Elsa?’
Her delicate fingers rested on her midriff and appeared almost translucent in the dim light. He dropped the bag, placed the eggs on the hay and crouched down to touch her cheek.
Klara suddenly stood up, ran over to him, and with eyes brimming with tears, pummelled him over and over on the shoulder with her fists.
He frowned and eased her away to arm’s length. ‘Klara! No!’ he said, not unkindly.
She pushed his arm away, launched herself at him again. He moved her more forcefully away by her shoulders and looked into her face. He saw clearly the abandonment and betrayal in her angry face and finally understood.
‘It’s all right, Klara. I’m back,’ he reassured her. ‘I just left to get some water.’ He lifted the water bottle. Her face crumpled, her shoulders sagged and she reached out and wrapped her arms around his neck. ‘It’s all right, my darling girl,’ he whispered into her young shoulder. ‘Everything is all right.’
He held her for some minutes, until he felt all remnants of despair drain out of her taut body. She lay limply in his arms, soft and trusting in a way she had never been before. This must be how a parent feels, he thought. Elsa was very ill. Klara was his responsibility now. He lifted his gaze over the child’s small dark head and saw Elsa’s eyes flutter open.
‘Elsa is awake,’ he said softly to Klara. ‘We must all eat and drink.’ On hearing Elsa’s name, Klara turned around and was reassured to see her looking at them. She silently slid from Sam’s lap.
‘I have brought you some more water,’ he said as he settled down beside Elsa. He gave some to Klara and then tenderlyoffered Elsa a drink. She drank a little but soon turned away. A wave of nausea swept over him. ‘Elsa, you have to drink more and try to eat if you are going to get better.’ Supporting her by her shoulders, he lifted her again and attempted to brush a wet lock of hair away from her face. It stubbornly clung to her skin. He was failing even at the simplest task. ‘Open your mouth.’ He heard his desperation in his voice and hoped she did not.
She murmured something. He bent to listen closer. ‘What did you say?’
She murmured again, but the syrup of words melded into one.
His heart began to race. ‘Drink, Elsa. Drink!’ He almost felt angry in his fear. How clammy her skin was. How cold. How sallow. ‘Elsa, wake up.’ Perhaps Klara had been right to be frightened that he had left them.
She opened her eyes and half smiled in reassurance. ‘I said I will drink later. I promise.’
He sat back, feeling foolish that he had panicked. Hunger, neglect and weeks of travel could send rational thoughts in a twist. ‘I’m sorry.’ He nodded forcefully. ‘Of course. You need to rest.’ He settled down beside her. ‘I’ll give you more later.’ He laid his hand on her back to reassure her he was near. ‘I’m here if you want me.’
She fell silent and for a moment he thought she had fallen asleep. He turned his head to look at her but her eyes were open.
‘Sam.’
‘Yes. What is it?’
