It was the first time she had dared voice this change of heart to a stranger, yet somehow she was not afraid to say it to Gertrude.
She turned and opened the door, preferring to step out into the fresh air rather than witness Gertrude’s reaction to her admission. The bright sun temporarily blinded her, blocking out the gaggle of geese crossing her path. She could hear the squawking but could not see the birds. Was this how Gertrude lived her life? Unable to face the truth so she could carry on living? Grief hung in every room in Gertrude’s home, while the picture of Hitler, the man responsible for at least one child’s death, hung on their wall and continued to impassively watch their every move with black, emotionless eyes. His presence silently demanded of every person passing beneath him their ongoing loyalty, a reminder that he had eyes and earseverywhere. She should have taken a hammer to it and broken the spell so the truth could seep back into their lives.
Elsa’s vision cleared and she found herself watching the family of noisy geese waddling happily away into the distance. She set off walking at a brisk speed and soon she was leaving the village behind. She owed Walter and Gertrude her life, but she could not trust them. If only everyone could live in peace and not fear expressing what was on their mind. She had lived that life for years.
Vivid memories of Kristallnacht rose before her: the shouts of the mob, the Rabbi being dragged from his home as her mother sobbed, the acrid odour of smoke. The devastation. The loss. And the next day, the empty chairs in the classroom, the silent shops with broken windows. The hate-filled speeches, and the indoctrination she herself had played her part in. Each memory accused her of being part of the problem, because she was one of many who had not spoken up when it mattered most.
Chapter Twenty
It had been a week since Elsa had last walked any distance, so it was only natural to wonder if she was up to the task. She searched the horizon for a field of rapeseed in early bloom. The emerging yellow crop was adjacent to the barn where she had last seen Klara and Sam. There were several, but one looked more familiar in shape than the others so she set out towards it. She had gone no more than a mile when a cart pulled by a swaybacked horse stopped beside her. She looked up into the familiar eyes of Walter.
‘Gertrude said you had left. I’ll drive you to the station.’
‘I’m not going to the station.’
‘Then I will give you a lift in this direction.’
Elsa wanted to decline but found herself reluctantly accepting and climbing aboard instead. It was the first time Walter had spoken to her without Gertrude nearby. She found it easier to understand his gruff manner now that she knew the full extent of his loss. They fell silent, just as they used to at mealtimes, having nothing in common and no wish to find one. Today, Elsa was thankful for the silence, and without the four walls around them, it felt almost companionable.
Suddenly, Walter turned the cart off the road, guiding the weathered horse down a less-used road.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked, a little alarmed.
He pointed to a large swathe of forest, one of many that scattered northern Germany.
‘This city of tall pines,’ Walter told her, ‘belongs to me.’
Elsa shifted in her seat. ‘Why are you showing me this?’
He squinted at her. ‘I wanted to show you something first.’ He eased the horse to a stop and cupped his hands together around his mouth. His imitation of an owl’s call immediately dispelled her fear. It was so convincing that she looked abovethe trees, expecting to see a nocturnal owl break the habits of a lifetime and soar into the air. The breeze lifted slightly, rustling the pines as if in reply. He called again, the haunting sound sending a shiver through her in childlike anticipation. Whatever Walter wanted to show her must be worthy of this detour, for he did not seem the type of man to waste time on frivolous things.
A man stepped out from the trees, hands thrust deep into his coat pockets, but did not approach. His features were barely visible as his cap was pulled low and his collar turned up. But Elsa recognized him from the way he stood and squarely looked at them.
‘He says you know him,’ said Walter.
Elsa turned to look at him. She hesitated. Could she trust him?
Kind eyes looked back at her. ‘Do you?’ Walter asked again.
Elsa dared to nod.
‘Do you want to go with him?’
Another quick nod. She was thankful that he saw it and did not cast any judgement on her.
Walter pulled a bag from behind his bench and gave it to her. ‘More food for your journey.’
Tears of relief and joy sprang to her eyes as she reached for it.
Walter smiled. The simple emotion changed his face instantly from a silent, embittered man to that of an indulgent grandfather. ‘Tomorrow I want you both gone,’ he said, his tone a mixture of sadness and command as the bag hung between their hands. ‘He is a good man, Elsa, but he is our enemy. We are betraying our motherland by helping him.’
‘I know.’
His arm relaxed a little, but the bag remained firmly in the knot of his fist. ‘But I’m tired of war. And if I see good in a man’seyes, I judge a man on his character and not the soil he was born on.’
‘There are not many like you, Walter.’
‘I am no saint. I know we have lost the war. I can hear the front coming nearer. I see too many people fleeing the towns and cities. I talk to these people and from what I hear, I believe—’ he thumped his chest — ‘in my heart that within weeks the Eastern Front and Western Front will meet and Germany will fall. I see our soldiers from my fields. They are sullen and exhausted, but they have also lost faith.’ He let the bag go so she could claim it. ‘You must find your mother. She needs you. Nowadays it is safer for a woman to travel with a man who pretends to be mute than to walk alone.’
