‘I wanted to check you both were all right,’ said Clara. She leaned over the crib at the sleeping baby. ‘He looks very content. Is he feeding well?’
‘Yes, every three to four hours, like you said. He’s a very content baby,’ said Annelise.
‘And how are you?’ asked Clara. ‘Are you getting enough rest and sleep?’
‘Yes. Richard has made sure of it.’
‘Can I feel your stomach?’ asked Clara. ‘I want to make sure your womb is contracting properly.’
A short while later after Clara had examined Annelise and was happy with everything, she got to her feet. ‘I don’t think you need me to come back again,’ said Clara reluctantly. Normally, a new mother would be attended to in her home for two weeks, but nothing was normal anymore. ‘If you are worried, you know where to find me.’ It was the least she could offer, and she couldn’t help feeling guilty that she was in effect abandoning them.
‘We are so grateful to you,’ said Annelise.
‘It’s my pleasure,’ replied Clara as she packed away her bag. She looked up at the young woman, sensing she wanted to say more. Annelise and her husband exchanged a look. Clara paused. ‘Is everything all right?’
Richard cleared his throat. ‘There’s something we need to ask you.’
‘Yes?’ Clara replied.
There was a long pause and another look between the couple. Clara waited, unease fluttered in her stomach.
Finally, it was Annelise who spoke. ‘My friend, Rachel, she has a four-week-old baby boy. He’s not well. He’s been non-stop coughing.’
‘Can you pay them a visit, please?’ asked Richard. ‘She is very worried. She doesn’t know what to do.’
Clara couldn’t reply immediately. This was not what she had planned to do. She wasn’t supposed to be getting involved with any more cases. But, as always, the question that plagued her was how could she refuse? On both a professional level and a humanitarian level she couldn’t say no.
‘Please,’ begged Annelise obviously sensing Clara’s indecision.
‘Of course,’ said Clara. ‘Where is the mother and baby?’ The words were out before she could argue with herself. She tried not to think of Friedrich and how he might feel about her doing this. But, she reasoned with herself, it was just one woman and one baby. Clara was in the area, a quick visit and that would be that.
The woman, Rachel, and her baby were only a few minutes away in a narrow side street of the Prenzlauer Berg district. The five-storey building, once an elegant facade, was now showing signs of neglect with peeling paint and small weblike cracks in the plaster.
Richard pushed open the heavy wooden doors that led from the street and Clara followed him inside to a small, dimly lit entry hall. The once grand staircase with an ornate iron railing wound its way upwards.
They reached the third floor and Richard knocked gently on the door. It was opened by an elderly woman, clearly not Rachel, but perhaps her grandmother.
‘Frau Blumenthal,’ said Richard. ‘I’ve brought my sister to see Rachel.’ He looked pointedly at Clara.
Clara glanced around the landing, wondering who was on the other side listening, spying. She didn’t want to speak out loud, her accent would give her away, instead she dipped her head in acknowledgement to Frau Blumenthal.
The older woman looked Clara up and down, suspicion in her eyes, but nevertheless after a couple of seconds, seemingly satisfied, she opened the door wider and waved them in.
It was only once the door was closed, and they were in the living room that she spoke. ‘Thank you for coming. My granddaughter is through there with the baby. He has croup. I have tried what is available to me, but he is getting worse.’
‘I’ll take a look and see what I can do,’ said Clara. She followed the grandmother into an adjoining room. The room was perhaps once a dining room but was now being used as a bedroom, with a crib resting on top of a sideboard. The double bed was pushed under the window. Sitting on the edge was a woman probably around Clara’s age, holding her baby in her arms.
‘Hello, my name is—’ began Clara but was cut off by Richard.
‘No names,’ he said quickly. ‘Sorry, but it’s best not to know then no one can tell.’
Clara swallowed. She’d never considered she’d have to hide her identity and yet Richard and his community were already thinking in terms of keeping themselves and people around them safe.
The baby breaking out into an episode of coughing had Clara’s attention back on the reason she was there. The cough was a sharp barking kind.
After a thorough examination with limited equipment Clara handed the baby back to Rachel. ‘He has croup as your grandmother suspected.’ She looked in her bag and brought out a small bottle. ‘This is eucalyptus oil. We can put a few drops into a bowl of boiling water and with a sheet, create a steam tent.’
‘That’s what my grandmother said,’ replied Rachel. ‘But we don’t have any oil.’
