As she turned in the opposite direction to the orderlies, she stole another look back at Alma who was now joined by the night porter.
Clara quickened her pace, desperate to reach the next corner. Once she did, she finally allowed herself to break into a run. Her feet pounded against the pavement as she fled into the maze of Lille’s darkened streets.
Chapter 39
It was only after several minutes of hurrying through the streets that Clara slowed to a purposeful walk, her breath coming in sharp puffs in the cool night air. She paused at the end of the street, pressing herself against a lamp post to check she was heading in the right direction. Even while fleeing, she had clung to Friedrich’s careful instructions like a lifeline, and she was relieved to find herself exactly where he’d said she would be.
Clara followed the route Friedrich had made her memorise with painstaking detail, turning left at the fountain, damaged now from shrapnel, then walking south past the shuttered shops until she saw a high stone wall topped with black wrought-iron spikes. The cemetery gates loomed before her, appearing to be chained shut in the diminishing light.
But as she approached, Clara could see that one gate hung slightly askew on damaged hinges, creating just enough space for a person to slip through, exactly as Friedrich had promised. Even from hundreds of miles away, even separated by borders and war, he was still with her, still protecting her, still ensuring she found her way safely.
Clara made her way deeper into the cemetery, her heart racing as she searched among the weathered monuments and leaning crosses. Then she saw it. A marble angel with outstretched wings, standing atop a tall pedestal near the heart of the cemetery. The statue’s serene face gazed downwards, as if watching over all the souls below, while moss had begun to creep up its base. One side of the angel’s face was more weathered than the other, the dark streaks of damp and lichen making it look as if it were crying.
Cara approached slowly, checking the shadows around her, before taking her position beside the angel to wait.
‘Well, there’s a sight for sore eyes,’ came a voice that Clara recognised instantly. She spun around and there was Rose, standing just a few yards away, the familiar curve of her smile visible through the fading light of dusk. ‘Two angels for the price of one.’
Without hesitation, they rushed towards each other simultaneously, colliding in a fierce embrace that was equal parts laughter, tears and desperate relief.
‘Oh, Rose,’ Clara whispered against her sister’s hair. ‘I can’t believe you’re really here.’ She pulled back to study her younger sister’s face in the dim light. ‘Are you well? Are you safe?’
‘Yes. I’m fine. But you .?.?. ?’ Rose’s eyes searched Clara’s face with intuition only sisters possessed. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine.’
Rose pressed her lips together before speaking. ‘There’s something you’re not telling me.’
How wonderfully reassuring that Rose could read her so easily, even after all this time apart. Clara hadn’t planned to tell her until they reached England, but now the words tumbled out in a rush. ‘I’m pregnant.’
‘Pregnant?!’ Rose whispered urgently, her eyes widening. ‘Oh, my good god.’ She looked down at Clara’s flat stomach, then back up at her sister’s face. ‘How far along?’
‘Just over three months, I think.’
Rose pulled her in for another fierce embrace. ‘That’s wonderful news. But Clara, leaving Friedrich must be destroying you.’
Clara nodded, not trusting her voice, feeling the familiar sting of tears threatening to spill over.
‘I hate to break up this reunion, but we really need to move,’ came a gruff voice from the shadows.
Clara jumped as a stocky man emerged from behind a nearby mausoleum, his face grim with urgency.
‘That’s Henri and, yes, he’s right,’ Rose said quickly. ‘You weren’t followed, were you?’
‘No, I don’t think so,’ Clara started to explain about Alma, but Henri cut her off.
‘Think? You don’t think so?’ His voice was sharp with disapproval. ‘We can’t afford “thinking” so.’
‘Someone at the hospital suspects I’m not who I claim to be, but they didn’t follow me here,’ Clara said, glancing nervously at the stranger. ‘Though they might have reported their suspicions by now.’
‘Magnificent,’ Henri muttered. ‘Allez!We need to go. Now.’
‘Ignore Henri,’ Rose whispered as she took Clara’s arm and guided her swiftly through the maze of headstones. ‘He’s always this charming.’
‘I can hear you,’ Henri grumbled from behind them.
Rose rolled her eyes at Clara and despite everything, the danger, the fear, the homesickness, Clara found herself smiling back. She had missed her sister desperately and being with Rose again, even under these circumstances, felt like coming home.
Henri moved through the cemetery like a shadow, constantly checking for any threat. ‘Stay close,’ he whispered, his voice carrying the authority of someone who’d done this too many times before.
