Chapter 14
Thursday mornings held new meaning for Clara now. They marked her life in Berlin with a stamp in her ‘foreigners’ booklet, the permission to carry on living in the city, going to work and freedom. Every week it was a relief to receive that stamp, but it was also a reminder that she was a foreigner, one her host country was at war with. Her freedom was strictly on their terms and at their will. It could be revoked at any given moment.
Despite this social tightrope she found herself on, she had always been treated with courtesy by the sergeant at the police station who knew Friedrich. The two men had apparently been to school together and although were more acquaintances than friends, he had recognised Friedrich’s name on Clara’s papers.
Clara had already spoken to the clinic about the need to register at the police station every Thursday morning and they had been understanding. It also meant she didn’t have to leave the apartment quite so early which was a blessing that morning as she hadn’t slept well at all. She was physically exhausted after the events of the previous day, but her mind had refused to switch off. In fact, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about what Max and Karl had told her was happening to some of the women and their babies. It was beyond her comprehension.
The more she thought about it, the more she knew she had to do more than just take their word for it. She had to see for herself and the only way she could do that was by getting hold of Hans Müller’s list.
As she headed out towards the police station, she pondered the scenarios in which she could get access to the study. She would have to somehow make sure Ursula didn’t see her, whether she could get Ursula to rest in her bedroom, Clara wasn’t sure. She needed to come up with a plausible reason. She hated the thought of deceiving Ursula, but she couldn’t compare it to what was at risk.
Clara pushed open the door to the police station, feeling somewhat nervous. She prayed her nerves didn’t show, and that her hands would hold steady as she passed over her documentation. The guilt and secrets she carried with her were heavier with each passing day.
To her dismay, it wasn’t Friedrich’s old school friend standing behind the desk that morning, but a police officer she didn’t recognise. He was leaning on the counter, reading a newspaper, not even bothering to look up as she closed the door behind her.
Clara approached the desk, her papers already in her hand. She waited for several seconds, before the man finally looked up at her.
‘Guten Morgen,’ said Clara, placing her papers on the counter.
The policeman let out a long sigh, before pushing himself up from the desk and closing his newspaper. He took her documents, opened the booklet and studied the information for some time before regarding her again, this time with narrowed eyes.
‘Frau Bergmann,’ he said, his gaze flitting back to the document.
‘Yes, that’s right.’ Clara’s palms were sweating, and she was glad she was wearing gloves.
‘You are still working at the Wilmersdorf Geburtsklinik?’
‘I am,’ confirmed Clara.
He raised his eyebrows. ‘They must think highly of you.’
‘I just do my job to the best of my ability.’ Clara felt uneasy at the conversation. She wasn’t usually questioned like this. Maybe it was because she hadn’t seen this policeman before. He was probably around her own age, with cropped blond hair, which emphasised his round face and rosy cheeks. He looked like he was permanently blushing.
He cast another look at her. His gaze travelled down her body and back up to her face.
His top lip glinted with sweat and even from across the counter, she could smell the coffee on his breath.
‘And what do your patients think to having a foreigner as their nurse. Sorry, not just a foreigner are you? You’re the enemy.’
Clara’s mouth dried and she swallowed before speaking. ‘My patients don’t mind. My skills are just as good for them as any other midwife’s.’ She smiled, trying to disguise the indignation in her voice.
‘Skills? You have good skills?’
A look that Clara couldn’t quite identify passed across his face as he spoke.
‘Midwifery skills, yes,’ she replied steadily.
‘I expect you have other skills too.’ A smile formed on the officer’s mouth.
Clara couldn’t prevent the sharp intake of breath she gave. She felt sick at the suggestion. A flurry of anger welled up inside her. He had no right to make any kind of threat like that. ‘I am a married woman. My husband is an officer at the Bendlerblock,’ she said. ‘All my papers are in order, and I have permission to live and work in the city. If there is a problem with the papers, perhaps you could speak to him.’
The obnoxious disgusting pig of a policeman seemed unconcerned by Clara’s response. He merely smiled broader as if enjoying the exchange and Clara’s obvious discomfort.
He held her gaze for moment before looking back at the papers. Then he read Clara’s address out loud. ‘Kantstraße 47, 2.Stock. Very nice part of the city,’ he said, finally stamping the document. He passed it back across the desk, holding onto it as Clara went to take it. ‘I am sometimes in the area. I could call by one day when your husband is at work. Just to make sure everything is as it should be and you are, indeed, following all the rules.’
At that moment, the door to the office behind the desk opened and Herr Arnold, Friedrich’s school friend, appeared in the foyer.
‘Frau Bergmann,’ he said with a polite nod of the head. ‘How are you?’
