‘She collapsed before they reached the door. She gave birth there and then on the hospital floor. On her own. No one helped her. No one was allowed to.’
Clara gasped, her hand going to her throat in horror. ‘And after that?’
Marie shook her head. ‘Eventually the matron stepped in and ordered me and another midwife to take her to a side room. We cut the umbilical cord. Wrapped the baby in blankets and gave her to the mother. We weren’t allowed to do anything else.’ Marie looked down and a tear dropped onto her lap. ‘It was awful. An hour later, the woman’s husband arrived. He had only just received word of what was happening. They left to bury their child.’
‘Oh, no,’ Clara couldn’t gather her thoughts to speak. ‘That’s awful. Barbaric. How can that be allowed to happen?’
Marie looked up, wiping her tears with her fingertips. ‘I knew then I could not stand by. I know it might have been too late for anyone to do anything but if that mother hadn’t had to come to the hospital in the first place then she might not have given birth, or the child might have been saved. What happened there, I no longer recognise as my profession. I became a midwife to bring life into this world, not to stand by and watch it be taken. I have blood on my hands in every sense.’
The next few days rolled on uneventfully. Clara continued her new routine of going to work in the morning and home visits in the afternoon, finishing the day with her last call to Ursula Müller. She looked forward to her chats with the German woman – it seemed they had a lot in common, and Ursula always seemed genuinely interested in Clara.
‘What would you usually buy your sister for her birthday?’ she’d asked one evening after Clara had mentioned it was Rose’s birthday that day. She was sad she hadn’t been able to send her any kind of message to let her know she was thinking of her.
‘Well, Rose is very practically minded,’ Clara had said. ‘I probably would have bought her a useful gift. She wouldn’t have wanted flowers or chocolates. She’d probably have wanted a scarf or gloves. Or a new pen. Something like that.’
‘Is your other sister like you or like Rose?’
‘Evie? She’s the baby of the family and very much the quiet one,’ said Clara. ‘I don’t think she’s like either of us. She prefers photography, poetry, writing, that sort of thing.’
‘A gentle soul?’
‘Gentle but also quietly determined. She lost her sight in one eye, but it hasn’t held her back. She can be very stubborn at times.’ Clara smiled as she thought of her sisters. ‘Probably a trait we all have in common.’
They had talked some more about family and Ursula had shared her wish that she had siblings and that with her mother not living in Berlin, she felt very lonely most of the time.
‘But I must admit, I do look forward to your visits. They brighten the day up,’ she had confessed.
‘And I enjoy coming to see you,’ Clara had replied almost cautiously.
She wasn’t used to such informality and acceptance of late and it filled her heart, reminding her that not everyone in the country automatically mistrusted her or disliked her.
Still, the one person she longed to see most was Friedrich. She hadn’t thought five days could last so long. The sight of him in the doorway later that evening unravelled the knot in her chest and for that evening the world seemed to right itself.
‘So, what have you done to occupy yourself while I was gone?’ asked Friedrich as they lay in bed, his arm draped around her shoulder, Clara’s face resting against his bare chest.
She felt her body tense as her brain scrambled to work out what to tell him. She had to rule out anything to do with Max and stealing the lists from Hans Müller’s study, of course.
‘Just the usual,’ she said. ‘Although I have made friends with my evening patient, Ursula Müller. She’s been so friendly. I really enjoy seeing her.’
‘That’s good to hear. Well done. I know it’s not been easy. And hopefully proves that some of us Germans, the majority I like to think, are still human.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ whispered Clara. They lay in silence, and she regretted bringing the mood down. She hugged Friedrich. ‘Anyway, you’re the only one who matters to me. As long as I’m with you, nothing else matters.’
‘The same applies to me. As it always has.’ He let out a sigh.
Clara immediately sensed something was on his mind. ‘What is it?’
‘I didn’t want to tell you tonight, but I’m going to have to be away more than usual.’ He paused, pulling her tighter to his chest. ‘I’m sorry,liebling, but I need to check supplies and distributions more regularly. I promise it will only be for a few days at a time though.’
What could she say? She couldn’t ask him not to go. These were his orders. His job. ‘It’s all right. I understand,’ she said, forcing more cheer into her voice than she felt. ‘We will just have to make the most of the time when we are together.’ She kissed Friedrich, silently cursing the war.
The first drop had gone smoothly, despite her nerves. Max had been on the tram as planned and she’d slipped the list inside the newspaper. However, the second drop, last night, had set Clara’s nerves on edge. She’d boarded the tram but there had been no sign of him and she hadn’t heard from him at all. She couldn’t help wondering if maybe Max had been compromised in some way. Had he been arrested? Was he at this very moment confessing all and putting her name in the firing line? It was Friday and She had no idea what to do with the list now and whether she should go and find Karl.
All day it had plagued her mind, and she found it hard to concentrate on her work. Every time the phone or the doorbell rang and she was nearby, she almost jumped out of her skin. The underlying fear that it might be the authorities coming to question her or arrest her was never far from the surface.
It was now time to carry out her home visits, and she was looking forward to some fresh air, hoping it would clear the anxiety that was taking hold of her.
As she passed Frau Lange’s office, she heard her superior calling out her name.
