Clara put her cup down, trying to gauge the seriousness in Ursula’s tone. ‘A deal?’
‘Yes. We mustn’t talk about certain things, like babies, pregnancy or work. You must get fed up talking about those things all day every day.’
Clara chuckled with relief. ‘I can assure you, if you want to talk babies, I won’t stop you.’
‘No, I insist. They are restricted. Just while we’re here doing something normal.’
‘All right, it’s a deal.’
‘It’s so good to be out of the house,’ sighed Ursula. ‘I feel so much better already.’
‘You look brighter, I must admit,’ replied Clara.
‘Anyone would think I was made of glass, the way Hans goes on. He probably won’t be very impressed that I’m out, so I might not tell him.’ She leaned across the table and added in a whisper, ‘I won’t tell if you don’t. Deal number two.’
‘Deal number two,’ said Clara, unable to keep the smile from her face.
Ursula’s laughter drew a few glances from the next table, and Clara found herself smiling too and properly this time. It reminded her of afternoons long ago, sitting by the river with her sisters. Rose was always talking, Evie always laughing, both teasing her for being so serious.
She could almost hear them now, their voices bright and familiar, and for a fleeting moment, she was back in England, the scent of cut grass and wet stone and rain. Then the sound of another tram outside pulled her back and she blinked away the memory.
‘You looked lost in thought there,’ said Ursula.
‘I was thinking of my sisters, Rose and Evie, back in England.’ She looked down at her cup and ran her finger around the rim. ‘I miss them so much.’
‘It must be difficult,’ said Ursula, her voice soft with understanding.
‘It is,’ admitted Clara. ‘But one learns to keep busy.’ She smiled again. ‘And it’s nice being here with you. To be honest, neither of my sisters like coffee, not even the proper kind.’
Ursula’s laugh broke the heaviness of the moment. ‘My sister’s the same. She won’t drink it unless it’s from Vienna.’ She sat back in her chair and smiled at Clara as they sipped their drinks. ‘Tell me, Clara, when you’re not working or being forced to accompany your patients to a café, what do you do with your free time?’
‘To be honest, I don’t really go out very much,’ replied Clara. ‘I meet my friend, Marie, once a week but that’s all. Although I have a new weekly rendezvous these days.’
Ursula raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m intrigued. Tell me more.’
Clara suddenly wished she hadn’t alluded to the Thursday morning visits to the police station. ‘Oh, it’s nothing. Formalities. Bureaucracy.’
‘Now I really am intrigued.’ Ursula leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table.
Clara realised Ursula was not going to let her off the hook. She gave a nonchalant shrug. ‘I have to attend the police station every week.’
‘The police station? Why on earth do you have to go there?’
‘I have to report to present my papers for them to check and stamp. You know, being a foreigner in Germany, especially from an enemy of the state.’
‘Oh, yes. I remember hearing about that. It can’t be very nice to have to do that every week.’
‘Not especially but it’s the law now.’
‘Does it make you feel differently about being in Germany?’
‘To be honest, most days I scarcely know how I feel,’ confessed Clara, looking down at her hands. She had never voiced these thoughts before, she’d barely even dared to think them until recently. ‘Some days I still think in English, other days in German. And whichever language comes first, I despise myself a little for it.’
‘You should be proud to be able to stand between the two countries,’ said Ursula gently.
‘I was, once,’ Clara replied. ‘Now I feel I belong nowhere. Too English for people to trust me. Too German ever to be welcomed back in England.’ Clara blinked back the tears. She hadn’t meant to reveal so much.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Ursula.
