That afternoon, Clara visited Ursula as she had done every day since the birth. Mother and baby were both healthy, and it brought Clara real joy to see Ursula bond so easily with her son.
‘My visits will drop to every other day now,’ she explained.
‘I know.’ Ursula laid the baby gently in his crib. Her voice was quieter than usual. ‘I’ve already spoken to the clinic.’
Clara paused. ‘Oh, I didn’t realise.’
‘I spoke to them just before you came.’ Ursula looked down at her son, avoiding eye contact with Clara. ‘I won’t be needing you to visit anymore. My mother is coming to stay as of tomorrow.’
Clara felt a tension in the air and her body stiffened. ‘I thought she wasn’t coming until next month.’
Ursula looked around at Clara now, her hands clasped tightly together. ‘I asked her to come early.’ Her voice wavered and she glanced away for a moment, before looking back. ‘Clara, I want you to know how much I have appreciated everything you’ve done for me. You’ve been so much more than a midwife.’
‘You don’t need to thank me. It was my job.’
Ursula gave a faint, sad smile. ‘Was it? I hoped it had become something more than that. I thought we were friends.’
‘We are friends,’ said Clara, feeling genuine concern.
‘Are we?’ Tears gathered in Ursula’s eyes. ‘Because friendship means trust. And I .?.?.’ She hesitated, her voice lowering. ‘I’ve come to understand that sometimes trust means accepting there are things we can’t talk about. Things that might put others we care about in danger.’
Clara’s heart hammered. ‘Ursula .?.?.’
‘No. Please.’ Ursula shook her head. ‘Don’t say anything. I don’t .?.?. I can’t know.’ She drew in a shaky breath. ‘Hans has been under terrible strain with work. Things going wrong with .?.?. with relocations. Missing families. His superiors are starting to ask questions about who has access to certain information. The sort of information he brings home with him and keeps in his study.’
Guilt raced through Clara. She wanted to explain, to confess, but she stopped herself. ‘I .?.?. I’m sorry .?.?.’ Her words faded. What was she going to say? She closed her mouth.
‘Don’t say anything,’ said Ursula. ‘I don’t want to know. If I did, I would have to .?.?.’ She stopped, pressing her lips together. ‘As a wife, as a German citizen, I would have duties I couldn’t ignore. And I can’t bear the thought of having to carry out those duties.’
‘I never wanted to hurt you,’ Clara whispered.
‘I know. That’s what makes this so hard. Mothers and babies, just as we’ve discussed before, every baby deserves to be safe, every mother deserves that chance.’ Her voice fell to barely a whisper. ‘It’s not safe for you to come here anymore. Not for you and not for us. I can’t protect you a second time.’
Tears gathered in Clara’s eyes. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Thank you for your friendship. Thank you for everything.’
‘I wish things were different,’ said Ursula, wiping her eyes. ‘I wish we lived in a world where friends could just be friends, without all these .?.?. complications. Where we could have coffee and talk about babies and laugh together.’
A short time later, Clara left Ursula’s house, closing the door behind her and crossing the threshold for one last time. As she walked down the road, she knew their friendship had become another casualty of the times.
As Clara waited for the tram to arrive to take her home, she was aware of a man coming to stand beside her. She knew instinctively it was Max.
‘Don’t turn around. Just keep looking straight ahead,’ he said. ‘When did you last see Paul?’ He took a newspaper from his pocket and nonchalantly began reading the front page.
Clara kept her gazed fixed across the road on the window of the shop. She could just make out their reflections. ‘When your daughter was born.’
Max flicked the page over in his newspaper, refolding it as one might for ease of reading. ‘He’s missing.’
‘Missing?’ Clara stopped herself from turning around to look at Max. ‘Since when?’
‘Since that night.’
‘He walked me to the end of my road,’ said Clara. Her mind replayed the last time she’d seen him. She shivered, wanting to throw up at the memory of Fuchs’s hands on her body.
‘He told me what happened,’ said Max. ‘He said no one witnessed it.’
Clara felt sick. ‘That’s right. There was no one else there. Has Paul been arrested?’
‘I’m making enquiries.’ Max went to the back page of the newspaper.
