‘Whatever for?’ Clara asked, looking away out of the window.
‘I’m sorry you’ve been made to feel that way,’ Ursula said softly. ‘And on a practical level, that you have to report to the police station every week. It’s an insult, especially when you’re here to care for German mothers and babies.’
‘I wish everyone felt like you.’
Ursula reached over and placed her hand on Clara’s. ‘You do know that you can talk to me if you’re worried about anything. I know you have your husband but sometimes you know what men are like, sometimes it’s preferable to speak to another woman.’
Clara felt genuine gratitude towards Ursula. ‘Thank you, I do appreciate that.’
Ursula insisted on another drink each. ‘We can’t leave on such a sombre tone,’ she said. ‘Now, tell me about England. I’ve always wanted to travel but that’s not an option now. I remember reading about London and thinking what an exciting place it would be to visit.’
Clara actually enjoyed talking about England, it made a change to be able to speak freely about it. Once upon a time, everyone had been intrigued to know about her homeland. She didn’t dare to think about the future though and what that might look like.
They sat a little longer, the conversation moving on after a while as they talked of unimportant things like the weather, a neighbour’s dog, the absurdity of ration coupons, until Ursula glanced at the clock on the wall.
‘I should go,’ she said reluctantly. ‘Before Hans beats me home and realises I’ve been out.’
Clara rose with her. ‘Come on then. I’ll walk you back.’
Outside, it was cool and damp, with the threat of rain in the air. They walked in an easy silence until they reached Ursula’s building.
‘Thank you, Clara,’ Ursula said, her voice warm. ‘It’s been so nice. Like being a person again, instead of a patient.’
When Clara turned for home, she found herself smiling. It had been nice, unexpectedly so.
Berlin’s air carried the metallic scent of rain and coal dust. Headlights swept briefly across the street, then vanished. Clara turned up her collar and quickened her pace.
She’d almost reached the corner when she felt it – that feeling of being watched. And then soft footsteps sounded behind her, and she felt the presence of someone at her shoulder.
‘Just keep walking.’
She gave a small gasp before recognition settled in. It was Max.
She looked out the corner of her eye. His hat was pulled down low over his face and his collar turned up. He placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. ‘Time for a prayer?’
He didn’t wait for an answer but guided them across the road and down a side road. A church loomed at the end of the street, its dark stone and spire cutting through the sky against the rain clouds. They reached the church and Max pushed open the heavy doors.
Inside, the air was cold and smelled of wax and damp wood. A single candle flickered near the altar.
‘In here,’ said Max, ushering her into a pew on the left. ‘We can talk here.’
‘You weren’t on the tram last night.’ asked Clara in a whisper. The vastness of the space felt both protective and exposed. ‘What happened?’
‘I was followed. At least I think I was, and I wasn’t about to take any chances.’ He took his hat off. ‘Although you don’t seem very concerned. Having coffee with your patient, I see.’
Clara rolled her eyes. ‘She asked me to accompany her. I couldn’t refuse.’
Max nodded. ‘Just keep your wits about you.’
‘Are you sure you weren’t followed tonight?’ She couldn’t help the little dig at him.
Max raised his eyebrows. ‘Do you have the list?’
‘Of course.’ The leather of her bag creaked as she withdrew the folded piece of paper and passed it to him.
‘Good.’ He quickly unfolded it and glanced at the names, before putting it into the lining of his hat.
‘Should I use the tram to drop the next list?’ she asked.
