They ate their meal in silence, punctuated only by Friedrich complimenting her on the food. She could sense some of the tension in the room easing as he acclimatised to being home, something he needed to do more regularly in recent weeks. She sensed there was something different that evening though, something he couldn’t quite shake off. But she wouldn’t press him, she’d wait until he was ready to talk.
When they had finished their meal Friedrich let out a long sigh. ‘I was waiting until after dinner to speak to you.’ His voice was serious.
‘What is it?’ she asked, feeling both relieved and nervous. Whatever had been bothering him felt different tonight.
‘I’ve been ordered to conduct a comprehensive inventory of winter medical supplies at depots along the western border. With cold weather approaching, they’re concerned with the proper distribution of cold-weather kits.’ He looked apologetic.
Clara let the significance of the words sink in. ‘Along the western border?’
He nodded. ‘I’ll be gone for five days.’ He reached out and covered her hand with his. ‘I leave tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow?’ She blinked hard, not wishing to cry. He was only going for five days. She’d be fine. Of course she would. But she also couldn’t deny the flutter of panic in her chest. She didn’t want to be left alone in Berlin without him.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Friedrich.
Clara took a deep breath. She didn’t want to make this harder for Friedrich, causing him to worry about her. ‘I understand,’ she said, offering up a smile of reassurance. ‘I know it’s your work.’
A small smile tugged at the corners of Friedrich’s mouth. ‘I appreciate you taking on the role of a good stoic wife of a German officer.’ He dipped his head to catch her gaze. And then more seriously, ‘But I also know you’re nervous.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ she repeated, blinking harder.
‘I could ask my mother if you could stay with her while I’m gone.’
‘No. I think that would put your mother in a difficult position,’ said Clara.
‘You’re her daughter-in-law. My wife. I can speak to my father. He would be happy for you to stay.’
Clara thought of her in-laws. They had welcomed her warmly into the family when she married their son. They had always made her feel part of them. Until recently. She hadn’t seen them since Gertrud had cancelled lunch that day. It hurt, there was no denying, and she could confront them or ask Friedrich to fight her corner, but she didn’t want to do that to him. They were his parents, and she wasn’t going to be the one to come between them.
‘It’s kind of you to offer,’ she said. ‘I will miss you and I wish you didn’t have to go, but I’ll be fine. Please don’t worry about me.’
Friedrich’s expression was a mix of love and sadness. ‘I’m sorry,liebling.’
She put her hand to his cheek. ‘You don’t need to apologise. I’ll be busy with work. I can ask for extra shifts. Anyway, I haven’t had the chance to tell you about today. I’ve been assigned my first private patient and I’m attending her at her home tomorrow.’ She chatted away, rather too enthusiastically, about her day and how she’d met Ursula Müller already. It was easier than having to think about all the reasons why Friedrich’s family had turned their back on her.
As she cleared away the dishes, Clara thought of what had happened that evening after work. What Max and Karl had told her about the pregnant women and newborn babies. She wished she could confide in Friedrich, but something had stopped her. He had enough on his mind without taking on her worries and what could he do? By telling him she would put him in an untenable position where he would have to choose between his wife and his country. She didn’t want to do that to him. She was certain he’d choose her but then what of him if it was ever found out that he hadn’t reported his British wife, who most definitely was about to become a spy. She was well aware of the risks to her – she’d be hanged. She shuddered, trying not to think about that. It seemed so alien to her, she almost couldn’t imagine it happening. But Friedrich, he’d be court-martialled. At best imprisoned and at worse the firing squad .?.?. again she didn’t want to think about it. No, it was best she didn’t tell him about what she was going to do.
She wasn’t sure how she was going to get the information Max had requested. She would have to make sure her visit was one of the last of the evening so she could be there when Herr Müller took the dog for a walk. Somehow she’d have to make an excuse to gain access to the study or wherever it was he had put his briefcase.
But that wasn’t what troubled her the most. It was the thought of the women and babies. It was hard to believe such a thing was true. Surely no human being would do what they were suggesting. It was this disbelief that was spurring on her determination to get the information.
Later that night, as moonlight flickered through the thin curtains of their bedroom, their lovemaking carried a different cadence to usual. Friedrich’s touch was more deliberate, as he traced the curve of her hip, the hollow of her throat. Clara felt the intensity of his meaning in the way he whispered her name and kissed her skin.
Afterwards, as Clara lay nestled against his chest, her arm across his body, she didn’t want to ever let go.
Friedrich kissed the top of her head. ‘Five days will pass quickly,’ he murmured, his thumb gently stroking her bare shoulder.
Clara didn’t trust herself to answer. He was right, five days really wasn’t that long, but she couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was shifting and she didn’t feel safe anymore. It was as if they were on the edge of something irreversible and something she had no control over, and nothing would be safe or the same again.
Chapter 12
Friedrich left earlier than usual, and Clara held him a little longer. As the door closed behind him, a heaviness settled in her chest – a physical ache. It wasn’t like her to feel so vulnerable. She’d always felt quietly confident about everything she did. This new sensation was alien to her, and she didn’t like it.
Clara walked back through the Charlottenburg apartment, her footsteps echoing in the morning quiet, crossing the living room to the window overlooking the street as she always did. She waited for Friedrich to appear on the pavement below, where he looked up and blew her a kiss. She caught it in her open hand, pressing it to her lips before blowing one back. After putting his suitcase into the boot of the waiting car, he took one last look up at her, giving a small nod of his head before climbing in. Clara watched the vehicle as it disappeared around the corner.
She leaned her forehead against the cold glass. What would Friedrich think if he knew what she was planning today? The thought brought a lump to her throat. He always said he loved her compassion, her determination to help others, but this was different. This was not only dangerous but defiant.
Clara’s stomach flooded with dread at what was ahead. She hated this sensation. She needed to be in control. She turned and looked at her reflection in the mirror over the mantelpiece, tucking in a strand of hair that had escaped her neat bun. Her white nurse’s uniform was ironed and starched, her nurse’s cap nestled in her bag, ready for when she arrived at the clinic, where a freshly laundered apron would be waiting for her. The weather was turning colder now and there was a chill in the October wind that seeped through the windows at night.
