As the ambulance rumbled past the barrier and beyond the city centre, Clara finally allowed herself to breathe properly. An hour later, when the farmhouse came into view, a modest stone building nestled among bare winter fields, she felt tears of relief prick her eyes. They had made it.
A woman and a man emerged from the farmhouse, ushering their visitors inside. Clara and the woman supported Anna into the building and through to a room on the ground floor.
‘Don’t worry,’ said the woman. ‘I used to be a midwife. I’ll make sure the women and babies are safe.’
Clara looked at Max in surprise. ‘You never said.’
‘You never asked,’ he replied. Again, there was that little tug of amusement at the corners of his mouth. ‘Rest assured, our cargo is in very safe hands now.’
They stayed for a cup of coffee and after saying goodbye to the three women and their hosts, Clara and Max climbed back into the ambulance.
‘All we have to do now is make it back into the city safely,’ said Clara.
‘We will go back the way we came. It will arouse least suspicion,’ said Max. ‘We have to make everything seem as normal as possible.’
It was a tactic that worked. Even less interest was given as they returned to the city. Max stopped the ambulance in a side street so Clara could jump out and make her way home.
‘How long until the men and children are there?’ asked Clara gathering up her bag from the footwell.
‘They should be there before nightfall. Someone is picking them up once they are outside of Berlin.’ Max’s expression darkened. ‘I heard from my contact at Neuruppin. Karl’s sister .?.?.’ He paused, his jaw clenching. ‘She and her baby didn’t make it.’
Clara drew a sharp breath in. ‘Oh, God. I’m so sorry.’
Max pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. When he looked at Clara, he gave a nod of acknowledgement. ‘You did well today,’ he said, clearly not wanting to discuss the matter further. ‘Goodnight, Clara.’ He gave a small but sad smile.
‘Goodnight, Max.’
Clara hopped out of the ambulance and hurried down the road towards her apartment. It felt good doing something tangible today but it was tempered by knowing that they hadn’t been able to save Karl’s sister and her baby.
She had a few hours now to get some sleep before her night shift. She had been running on adrenaline but now her reserves were empty.
She opened the door to the apartment and was surprised to see the lights were on.
‘Friedrich?’ she called out.
He appeared in the hallway. ‘Clara!’ He strode towards her, reaching her in just a few strides before enveloping her in his arms before she’d even closed the door properly. ‘You’re safe,’ he whispered into her hair.
‘I wasn’t expecting you to be home,’ she said once he finally let go of her.
‘Early start meant an early finish,’ he said. ‘I brought some work home with me. I was too on edge to stay there any longer.’ He stepped back and surveyed her up and down, as if checking for any signs of injury. ‘Any problems?’
‘None. Thanks to you.’
‘And the women, they are safe?’
‘Yes. All of them.’ It was her turn to look at him now, to observe the worry lines that had etched themselves around his eyes. ‘Your information was perfect. The documents, the route, the schedule. Everything worked exactly as you said it would.’
Friedrich’s hands cupped her face, his thumbs brushing across her cheekbones. ‘I was terrified the whole time. I kept thinking about everything that could go wrong, all the variables I might have missed .?.?.’
‘But you didn’t miss anything,’ Clara said firmly. ‘You saved seven lives today, Friedrich. Ten if you count the unborn babies.’
After she had showered and climbed into bed for a few precious hours’ sleep before her night duty, Friedrich had lain down next to her. Despite the fatigue, they had made love and when she lay in his arms afterwards, she allowed herself to indulge in the moment of victory, a small triumph against the darkness that was consuming their world.
And so, the new rhythm of their double life settled into something that almost felt routine.
Friedrich’s forged documents, travel permits and inspection orders became their lifeline. Some nights Friedrich would wait two streets away while Clara delivered babies in basement rooms and on kitchen tables. Other evenings, she would return home to find him hunched over maps, plotting safe routes and timing patrol schedules with military precision and attention to detail. Their apartment became a careful choreography of secrets.
Marie had come to Clara several times with the name of a Jewish woman refused care at the Charité. Clara would seek them out, offering help where the hospital had offered only closed doors. And more recently, Marie had become an integral part of the secret work Clara was carrying out. She too was helping with the pregnant Jewish women. Beneath Marie’s careful silence lay a quiet strength and unwavering loyalty to her calling as a midwife. Marie never spoke up in meetings or drew attention to herself, preferring to remain under the radar, but when it came to caring for mothers and babies, her dedication was absolute.
