Chapter 4
It was not without a great deal of trepidation that Clara arrived at the Charité Hospital for work the following morning. As she made her way to the staff changing room, she passed Marie coming the other way. They made eye contact, but Marie looked away and carried on without speaking.
The staff changing room was empty when Clara went in and she quickly put on her apron and nursing hat. She was just adjusting the collar of her dress, giving herself one final check in the mirror, when the door opened and as it happened yesterday, so it did again today, in strode Brandt and Krüger.
Brandt whispered something to her companion that Clara could hear and both women sniggered as they looked over at her, daring her to say something. Clara steeled herself. She wasn’t going to start any confrontation but if those two horrid women said anything to her, then she was certainly going to defend herself. She had nothing to lose anyway, she knew full well she was on borrowed time at the hospital.
‘We have to be careful what we say around her,’ said Brandt in a theatrical stage whisper. ‘We can’t trust the foreigners, especially the English.’
‘I heard there are spies in the hospital,’ said Krüger. ‘I suppose that is why the police are here talking to Matron.’
Clara’s heart missed a beat, and she felt a small surge of panic rise within her. She had no idea if they were just saying that to frighten her or not. Fortunately, her open locker door hid her face from the two women and Clara took a moment to try to regulate her breathing which had already picked up its pace.
All sorts of thoughts as to why the police were at the hospital raced through her mind. Had someone seen her go into the Rothsteins’ apartment? Had the two policemen on the tram reported her? Flagged her as suspicious? Had someone other than Marie noticed her take the address from the file?
Taking a deep breath, Clara closed her locker and headed towards the door.
Before she made it there, Brandt stepped in front of her, blocking her path. ‘You’re very quiet today, Miss Clara. Not quite so confident now, are you?’
‘I have nothing to say to you,’ said Clara, thankful her voice came out strong and steady. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I have my duties to attend to.’
For a moment she wasn’t sure if Brandt was going to let her pass, but with a scoffing noise the German woman stepped to one side. ‘Duties,’ she said as Clara opened the door. ‘You won’t have to worry about them for much longer.’
Clara let the door close behind her. As much as she would miss the Charité Hospital, she knew she couldn’t continue in such a hostile environment. The realisation filled her with sadness. She had come to Germany seeking the opportunity denied to her in England. The daughter of a highly respected surgeon, Clara had followed in her father’s footsteps, as had her younger sister, Rose. But in England, Clara had encountered an unyielding glass ceiling for women with her ambitions. Germany had offered a way forward and a welcome distance from her former fiancé who had casually announced at a dinner party one evening that he expected her to abandon her career once they were married.
As Clara approached the nurses’ station any idea that Brandt had been making up stories about the police being here were dispelled. A uniformed officer was standing at the desk, talking to Matron and another gentleman in a suit who Clara recognised as the hospital director.
All three stopped talking and turned to look at Clara as she neared the desk. She willed her legs to keep moving even though all her instincts were demanding she turn and run. In that moment, she silently said sorry to Friedrich, but she still couldn’t condemn herself for visiting Hannah Rothstein. She’d do it again in a heartbeat if needed.
‘Frau Bergmann,’ Matron said as Clara reached the desk. ‘Could you come into my office, please?’
Of course, it wasn’t a request at all. It was an instruction.
The police officer and the director followed on behind Clara as if to make sure she didn’t try to escape. Clara could feel the eyes of her colleagues and other staff members on her as she took what was essentially a walk of shame down the corridor.
Matron’s office was small at the best of times and with four people now occupying the space it felt claustrophobic. Clara stood in front of the desk while Matron took her seat on the other side. The director pulled a chair around to sit beside Matron while the policeman leaned against the filing cabinet behind Clara, too close, too deliberate. Clara stood up straight. The atmosphere was thick with tension, and she could hear the blood whooshing through her ears as her heart thudded at double speed.
‘Frau Bergmann,’ began Matron, her voice clinical, her words clipped, ‘with immediate effect your employment at the Charité Hospital is now terminated.’
Despite knowing this would be her eventual fate, Clara hadn’t expected it to be so soon. She had assumed she would jump before she was pushed but it seemed the authorities had other ideas. She had a sudden and uncontrollable urge to make this as uncomfortable for them as possible.
‘May I ask on what grounds, Oberschwester?’ Clara kept her gaze fixed on the row of medical dictionaries on the shelf behind Matron.
‘This is a state matter,’ said the director before Matron could speak. Again, there was that clipped and efficient tone Clara was used to hearing in professional settings. ‘It is no longer permissible for foreign nationals to remain employed within key public institutions.’
‘Concerns have been raised,’ said Matron. ‘By staff and patients alike.’
‘As Oberschwester Werner has said, this is with immediate effect,’ continued the director. ‘Do you understand?’
‘Yes, Herr Direktor,’ replied Clara even though the words sounded like they belonged to someone else. It was actually happening. This was real.
The policeman stepped forward, the sound of his boots loud in the silent room. He stood at the end of the desk, adjacent to Clara. ‘You will be required to report to the Alexanderplatz police station every Thursday at nine o’clock for security checks.’ He handed her a folded document. ‘All the documentation you need to bring with you is listed there. Ensure you carry them at all times from now on.’
Clara took the piece of paper without comment. Her hands trembled, betraying the non-committal expression she was trying to convey.
The director cleared his throat. ‘You have thirty minutes to collect your personal belongings and to leave the building. Herr Inspektor will accompany you.’
Clara gave a nod of acknowledgement and turned to leave the room. ‘Frau Bergmann.’ Clara turned back at Matron’s voice. Her gaze meeting the woman who had mentored her for the past seven years. Matron’s face softened. ‘You have been an excellent midwife. Your clinical skills and patient care have been exemplary. I am sorry it ends like this.’
