‘Good morning, Frau Bergmann,’ she said, stepping out with a small suitcase in her hand.
‘Good morning, Frau Becker.’ Clara looked at the suitcase. ‘Are you going away?’
‘To my sister’s. Just for a week.’
‘Oh, that will be nice.’ Clara smiled, trying not to appear too eager to be on her way. ‘Would you like me to carry your case down for you?’
‘No, thank you. I can manage. I’ll take the lift.’ She nodded at Clara. ‘Good day, Frau Bergmann.’
‘Have a good trip.’ Clara waited while the older woman entered the lift, before making her own way down the stairs. By the time she reached the ground floor, Frau Becker was already climbing into a waiting taxi.
Clara pulled her coat tight against the morning cold and walked purposely towards the tram stop, reminding herself to act like it was any other day when she was going to work or going about the city on her house calls. She remembered Max saying to walk with confidence and purpose, not behave like she was scurrying around trying not to be seen. That would have the opposite effect.
It was just before the meeting time with Max when she rounded the corner to the church. She stopped in her tracks.
An ambulance sat at the kerb, engine running. Max leaned out of the driver’s window. ‘Get in.’
Clara stared at the vehicle. It was the last thing she had been expecting to see. ‘Don’t just stand there,’ said Max. ‘Get in, now.’
She crossed the street quickly and climbed into the passenger seat. She did a double take at Paul already in there, wedged in the middle. Both men wore white orderly coats over their regular clothes, Red Cross armbands on their upper arms. Max pulled away before she’d even closed the door.
‘Paul. I wasn’t expecting to see you,’ said Clara.
‘Guten Morgen, Clara,’ said Paul, smiling at her.
‘You both look very convincing in your uniforms.’
‘My sister got them for us,’ Paul said. ‘Works at the hospital laundry. Said they wouldn’t be missed for a day.’
‘Anything on Hannah?’ she asked as the ambulance rumbled along.
‘Still in Neuruppin. As far as we know.’ Max’s hands were tight on the steering wheel. ‘That’s where we’re going now. To get her out.’
Relief flooded through Clara. ‘Oh, thank God,’ she said in English under her breath. And then switched back to German. ‘How?’
From the side of the door, Max pulled out a folder and dropped it into her lap. Clara opened the folder. Official stamps. Wehrmacht letterhead. Authorisation codes. Transfer documents from the Office of Records.
Administrative error – subject incorrectly processed. Return to Berlin Central Registry for verification.
They drove in silence for a while. The city streets gave way to countryside. Clara watched the bare trees blur past.
‘Listen carefully,’ Max said eventually. ‘I can’t go inside. If anything goes wrong, I need to be able to drive away. Understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re there to accompany the patient safely back to Berlin. That’s all. You don’t know any other details. You will have to think on your feet if they start asking questions.’
‘Do you think they will check?’
Max shrugged. ‘It depends. We will arrive around the time of tea break so less staff about. Hopefully, the staff will be busy and less likely to get into lengthy red tape, checking every detail or making any telephone calls.’
The journey up to Neuruppin was uncomfortable with three of them squashed into the cab, but bearable. They had gone through a checkpoint out of the city without any problems and just a cursory glance at their documents and inside the rear of the vehicle.
Two hours later they were pulling into the gates of the medical facility in Neuruppin. Clara stared at the building through the windscreen. Grey stone. Small windows. A sign by the entrance ‘Entbindungsheim Neuruppin’.
Her stomach twisted.
‘You remember the plan?’ Max’s voice was quiet.
