‘I know this is dreadfully selfish of me, but it’s just dawned on me that I have no idea when I will see my family again.’ She dropped her gaze, feeling guilty for just immediately thinking about how it would directly affect her. Rose, with her nurse’s practical determination, would tell her to stop being silly, but Clara knew her sister would miss her fiercely, even if she’d never admit it. And Evie, sweet Evie, her youngest sister, who after a childhood accident that cost her the loss of sight in one eye, always found it easier to express herself through her camera than with words, would squeeze Clara’s hand to reassure her. She pictured her parents’ faces, her mother’s smile of quiet resilience and her father’s bear hugs that made everything feel safe. The idea of not seeing any of them, suddenly felt unbearable. Her stomach churned and she thought for a moment she was going to be sick.
Friedrich had no words of comfort to offer this time. Nothing he could say or do could change the course they were on.
Yesterday she had gone down to the local police station with her documents as she had been instructed. Friedrich had wanted to accompany her, but she had insisted he report to work and that she would be fine. Her promise of not breaking his heart already threatening to be broken. But she had been home within the hour. The policeman at the desk had taken little interest in her, he had merely checked her documentation and then stamped a card to say she had been to the station.
After a subdued breakfast, Friedrich left for work, leaving Clara once again alone in the apartment. It wasn’t something she was used to. She had always worked full-time at the hospital so to be left now at home when there really wasn’t much to do and where going outside currently held no joy for her, she felt the isolation of being far from England for the first time.
By mid-morning she had carried out all her chores around the apartment and been out to the local shops to buy food for their supper that evening. It was something she had done several times a week but today it felt profoundly different. The familiarity and ease she’d always felt in the city, especially her own neighbourhood, seemed to have vanished overnight. Every glance in her direction now felt weighted with suspicion. Before, her nurse’s uniform had been both her shield and her identity – a respected profession that transcended her foreignness. The white cap and apron had defined her place in Berlin society. Now she was simply the English-woman – the foreigner and the enemy.
Clara had just finished preparing their supper when there was a knock on the front door. A tap, followed by a double-tap and one further tap.
She stepped out into the hallway, viewing the door with suspicion. She wasn’t expecting anyone. It was unusual to have unexpected callers. Slowly, she dried her hands on her apron as her heart beat a little faster. She hated the feeling of unease that settled around her. She should not feel frightened in her own home.
The knock came a second time. It was the same pattern as before.
Clara walked slowly down the hallway until she came to the door. She rested her hand on the lock. Something told her it wasn’t the authorities, she was sure they wouldn’t knock like that. Something also told her she didn’t want to draw the attention of her neighbours by whoever it was continuing to knock.
She opened the door and was greeted by a young man probably in his early twenties.
‘Frau Bergmann?’ he said quietly.
Clara nodded. ‘That’s right.’
His eyes darted around the landing and before Clara could say another word, he had stepped into her apartment, closing the door behind him.
‘What are you doing?’ Clara’s voice rose an octave as she backed up a few paces and was relieved when he didn’t appear to want to follow her into her home.
‘Don’t be scared. And please, don’t be loud,’ said the man in nothing more than a whisper. ‘I have come to ask for help.’
‘All right,’ said Clara, still unsure what was going on but somehow didn’t think she was in any immediate danger.
‘David Rothstein has sent me. It’s my neighbour. The wife has gone into labour but there are complications.’
Alarm bells immediately sounded in Clara’s head. ‘Complications?’
He nodded. ‘She has been in labour for over twenty-four hours. She is very weak.’
‘And the baby?’
He shrugged. ‘There isn’t anyone to ask, only you.’
‘I’ll come immediately,’ said Clara. ‘Wait while I get my bag.’ She rushed through to the living room snatching up the medical bag. She wasn’t quite sure what use it would be, especially if there were complications but she would just have to make do with what was available to her.
Clara hurried into her bedroom and from her sewing kit picked up her sharp embroidery scissors, a packet of sewing needles and some silk thread, placing all the items into her bag. Next she went into the kitchen and grabbed a jar of honey, which she put into the bag alongside the tincture of iodine. As an afterthought she took a half-full bottle of schnapps from Friedrich’s study.
She had improvised essentials. Anything else she would have to hope was available at the house she was going to. She couldn’t carry any more without it arousing suspicion.
‘I’m ready,’ said Clara.
‘We shouldn’t travel together,’ said the young man. ‘I’ll go first. You follow in a few minutes.’
He slipped out of the door as quietly as he’d arrived. Clara waited by the window which overlooked the street until she saw him striding away from the apartment.
The clock on the mantelpiece chimed the hour. It was two o’clock. She wasn’t going to be back before Friedrich. He’d wonder where she had gone.
She didn’t want to leave a note explaining everything. What if she was caught and the authorities came to the apartment? They might find it and then Friedrich would be in trouble too for aiding her. Or, at the least, not reporting her activities. No, she’d have to be more subtle than that.
She wanted him to know she was coming back. She didn’t want him to panic and think she’d been arrested or something. She went into his study, tore a sheet of paper from his writing book and, using his ink pen, quickly scribbled a note.
