The accusation was so outrageous, so insulting after everything she’d sacrificed and everything Friedrich had done to help her, that Clara’s hand moved before her mind could stop it. The slap cracked like a gunshot in the narrow doorway.
Max staggered back, his hand flying to his cheek, surprise replacing suspicion in his eyes.
‘Either you’re a very good liar,’ he said slowly, ‘or you’re telling the truth.’
‘I’m not dignifying that with an answer.’ Clara took the opportunity to push past him and began walking along the street.
Max caught up with her and stepped in front of her, forcing her to stop. ‘Where are you going?’
‘I can’t tell you.’
‘Can’t or won’t?’
‘Both.’
‘So, you’re running away. Just like the British are doing at Dunkirk. Cut and run when things get difficult.’
‘That’s not fair,’ Clara whispered. ‘The British have no choice—’
‘And neither do you, apparently. Abandoning everyone who trusted you.’
Before Clara could react, Max lunged for her handbag, yanking it from her grasp. Her forged papers scattered as he rifled through them.
‘Please,’ Clara whispered, her shoulders sagging in defeat. ‘You don’t understand.’
Max held up the identification papers, his eyebrows raising. ‘Frida Hoffmann? Well, well.’
Heavy footsteps echoed from the main street, coming towards them. Clara snatched back her papers and shoved them into her bag just as two police officers rounded the corner. Their keen eyes immediately focusing on Clara and Max. Clara’s heart sank. Of all the police officers in Berlin, it had to be him.
‘Frau Bergmann,’ Arnold called out, his voice carrying immediate recognition. ‘What brings you out so early?’
‘Scheiße.’ Max uttered the curse under his breath.
Arnold’s eyes flicked between Clara and Max. ‘Is everything all right?’
Clara took a step forward, her mind racing. ‘Good morning, Herr Wachtmeister. Yes, everything is fine. This man—’ she glanced at Max, praying he would follow her lead ‘—he was just telling me about a medical emergency. That he needs help.’
‘At this hour?’ Arnold’s eyebrows rose suspiciously. ‘And who is this man to you?’
‘I don’t know him personally,’ Clara said, trying to keep her voice even. ‘He approached me because he recognised my uniform. His wife’s sister is having complications with her pregnancy.’
‘I see.’ Arnold’s gaze shifted to Max. ‘Your name?’
‘Heinrich Mueller,’ replied Max.
Clara wondered briefly if that was indeed Max’s real name and whether he had papers to back that up, forged or otherwise.
‘And this emergency, where exactly?’ Arnold pulled a notebook from his pocket.
Clara’s pulse raced. ‘I was just explaining to Herr Mueller that I can’t help him. That his sister-in-law needs to attend the hospital or a clinic.’
‘I was just on my way to the hospital now,’ said Max. ‘To see if someone could attend my wife’s sister. I just asked this nurse because I happened to bump into her.’
Arnold nodded, seemingly satisfied. ‘Quite right. You shouldn’t be stopping women on the street. Find proper medical assistance through official channels.’
‘Yes, Herr Wachtmeister.’
‘And you, Frau Bergmann. You never said where you were going?’
