Chapter 3
How could she refuse the Rothsteins, even if she wanted to? Her principles wouldn’t allow her to abandon a pregnant woman and an unborn child. She had a duty of care, not to mention her conscience to reconcile each evening.
Despite the desire to help another woman, Clara was aware what a precarious position this was putting both her and Friedrich in if it were discovered.
It was one thing making these decisions and putting one’s own life at risk, but she was also putting Friedrich’s life at risk, and he had no say in the matter.
The authorities were very clear on how they viewed people helping the Jewish community, and with Friedrich’s position in the military it would be seen as nothing short of treason.
She would be forcing him into this situation.
She knew he wouldn’t forbid her. He wasn’t that type of man.
He would stand by her and support her, but she had no right to ask him to do so.
She climbed onto the tram that pulled up and as she sat down decided, like the incident at the hospital, that she wasn’t going to tell Friedrich what had happened. The less he knew the better. The less he knew, the less he’d try to help her and thereby implicate himself further.
There weren’t many people on the tram and Clara took a seat behind an elderly gentleman and a woman with her young child.
Clara rested her head against the window, watching the late-afternoon shadows stretch across Berlin’s streets.
She felt emotionally drained after everything that had happened in that one day.
The tram jolted to a halt and at first Clara didn’t think anything of it. Then a hush fell across the carriage as conversations stopped as abruptly as the tram had done. Clara looked up as two uniformed policemen boarded the tram.
‘Papers,’ demanded the taller one of the two.
Clara’s mouth dried and she tightened her grip on her bag. At least now she was south of the River Spree and had a valid reason to be travelling on the tram. Had she been in the Rothsteins’ district she would have needed a plausible reason for being in what was essentially a Jewish district.
The two policemen methodically made their way through the tram. Clara reached into her handbag and withdrew the little blue booklet – her foreigners’ residence permit.
The policeman gave a cursory glance at the papers the gentleman in front of Clara offered before moving onto her. He looked particularly bored.
Until he reached Clara.
He snatched the permit from her hand, examining the details – name, nationality, address – while his colleague looked over his shoulder.
‘English,’ said the second policeman. ‘You’re a long way from home.’
‘I’ve lived in Berlin for over seven years now,’ replied Clara, careful to keep her tone neutral. ‘My husband is an officer at Bendlerblock.’
The taller of the policemen continued to scrutinise her documentation for several long moments. ‘Your reason for travel?’
Clara thanked God, or whoever was watching over her that she was now on what would be her usual route from the hospital to home. ‘I work at the Charité. I’m on my way home.’
The policeman leaned down, his eyes narrowing. ‘You work at the Charité? As what?’
‘I’m a midwife.’
He looked from Clara to the documentation and back to Clara before snapping the booklet shut and thrusting it back to her.
Clara sat frozen, not daring to move, or even look at the policemen.
She could feel his heavy gaze still on her.
Then he was moving on down the tram to the woman and child sitting further down the carriage.
It wasn’t until they disembarked, and the tram pulled away that Clara let out a long sigh of relief. She was going to have to be so careful when she next visited the Rothsteins. It would only be a matter of time before she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. And then what?
Clara didn’t dwell on the question and much less on the answer.
When Friedrich finally walked through the door later that evening, Clara flung her arms around him, burying her head in his shoulder, before he even had time to take off his jacket.
‘Clara?’ Friedrich kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back gently. He led her through to the living room, sitting her down on the sofa. ‘What’s wrong? This is not like you.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Clara with a huge sigh. ‘I just needed to feel the warmth of human kindness today.’
‘What happened?’ asked Friedrich.
Clara gave a small shake of her head. ‘Nothing really. People are avoiding me, that’s all. People who I thought of as friends.’
‘Marie?’
Clara dipped her gaze. ‘To an extent.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said, softly. ‘Especially after this morning. More and more these days, I feel ashamed of what my country is doing to non-nationals.’
‘Don’t you ever apologise for the government. The Nazi Party,’ said Clara, sitting up straight and looking at her husband. ‘You are not them.’
Friedrich gave a small smile. ‘That’s more like Clara Bergmann,’ he said. ‘Don’t let them wear you down, liebling.’ He kissed the top of her head. ‘Now, I must attend to some paperwork, but after dinner, I promise, I am all yours.’
Friedrich got to his feet and crossed the room. He paused at the bureau, looking down at the carpet. Clara jumped up, suddenly remembering that was where she had dropped the medical bag when she had come home. She watched as Friedrich bent down and picked it up.
‘It’s mine,’ said Clara. ‘I mean, it’s from the hospital.’ What was she supposed to say? She brought it back from work. How could she explain it? She could hardly have brought it home by accident.
She watched as Friedrich opened the bag and took out the fetoscope, the blood pressure sleeve and other pieces of equipment. He looked up at her. ‘Clara?’
Clara’s mouth dried and her heartbeat raced even faster. ‘I need to take it back to the hospital tomorrow,’ she said uncertainly.
‘Why did you bring it home?’
She spun the wedding band around on her finger. She had never lied to her husband, and she wasn’t about to now. ‘I borrowed it.’
Friedrich regarded her for a moment before placing the items back into the bag and closing the catch. He replaced the bag to the floor. Clara could see he was warring with himself, struggling to respond in a calm manner.
He ran his hand through his fair hair, closing his eyes for a moment and letting out a long sigh, before coming over to her. He took both her hands in his, bringing them to his lips and kissing her knuckles.
‘I’m not going to ask you what you’ve been doing,’ he said softly, his eyes searching her face.
‘I trust you will tell me when you’re ready.
’ He placed his palm against her cheek and Clara leaned into his touch.
‘No matter what anyone else in Berlin thinks of you, I know who you are, Clara. You are a kind and caring woman who can’t turn away from someone in need.
’ His voice dropped to barely a whisper.
‘It’s one of the many reasons I fell in love with you. ’
‘Friedrich,’ she began, wanting to tell him where she’d been, but she didn’t know how to without burdening him with knowledge.
Friedrich pulled her closer, resting his forehead against hers. ‘You must be careful, liebling. More careful than ever before. The world we are living in now . . .’ He paused, struggling to find the words. ‘It’s not the same anymore. And I’m scared, Clara. I’m scared one day you won’t come home.’
Clara swallowed hard. ‘I promise you, Friedrich, I will do everything that is humanly possible to come home.’ She breathed in deeply, soaking up the pine scent of his aftershave which still lingered on the collar of his uniform.
A sudden knock at the door made them both jump. Clara looked at Friedrich and could see her own feelings of fear reflected in his eyes.
‘Wait there,’ he instructed, before walking out of the room and down the hallway to the front door.
Clara listened as the knock came again. For some reason it didn’t sound like an aggressive knock – one she might expect from the authorities – although the notion did nothing to calm her racing heart. She heard Friedrich unlock the door.
‘Marie,’ he said in surprise.
‘I need to speak to Clara urgently,’ came Marie’s voice in a hushed tone.
Clara breathed a deep sigh of relief but then immediately felt confused why Marie should turn up at the apartment.
Clara stepped out into the hallway. ‘Marie, what is wrong?’ She ushered her friend into the living room.
‘Let me pour you both a glass of wine,’ said Friedrich.
‘Marie, sit down,’ said Clara.
Marie looked uneasy but took the seat next to Clara and accepted the glass of wine Friedrich offered. ‘Danke.’ She took a sip and then another larger gulp, before looking up at Clara. ‘Firstly, I wanted to say sorry,’ she began.
Friedrich handed Clara her wine. She glanced up at him before looking back at Marie. ‘You don’t have to say sorry,’ she replied, knowing that her husband was probably about to find out what happened with Brandt, much as she didn’t want to tell him.
‘I feel such a coward for not saying more.’
‘It’s forgotten about,’ insisted Clara, aware Friedrich’s gaze had settled on her.
‘I feel ashamed,’ finished Marie.
Clara put her glass on the table and moved closer to her friend, putting her hand on her arm. ‘You must never feel ashamed. Besides, I’m not at all bothered by what they said. Please, do not give it another thought.’ She hugged Marie, who returned the gesture.
Marie pulled away. ‘There’s something I need to tell you as well.’
Friedrich sat in the chair by the fireplace.
‘Yes, what is it?’ asked Clara, although she suspected she wasn’t going to like what her friend was about to say.
‘The file,’ said Marie. ‘Matron noticed there was a page missing. She was asking questions.’
Clara swallowed. ‘Did she ask you?’
Marie nodded. ‘But I told her I didn’t know anything about it.’ Clara went to say thank you, but Marie shook her head. ‘They wanted the details of the woman to pass onto the authorities.’
‘The authorities?’ repeated Clara.
‘Yes. Because the woman is Jewish.’
Clara’s heart sank. ‘I should have taken the other page with the husband’s details on. They will know where to find them. I must warn them.’
‘No. You don’t need to,’ said Marie. ‘It seems that page was missing as well.’ She held her head a little higher as she spoke. ‘I suspect it will never be found.’ She moved her hand to rest over the pocket of her coat. ‘Like the first page. Lost forever.’
Clara glanced at Friedrich who was sitting silently, listening to the conversation. She couldn’t read his expression, but he was an intelligent man. He would have already worked out what had happened.
He got to his feet, dipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a lighter. He placed it on the mantelpiece. ‘If you would excuse me, ladies. I have some paperwork I need to attend to.’ He tapped the silver lighter with his finger and gave Clara a meaningful look before leaving the room.
Clara waited for the study door to close and then jumped to her feet, rushing over to the bag she’d taken to the Rothsteins’ earlier that afternoon.
From it, she pulled out the piece of paper from the hospital file and went over to the fireplace.
It took her a couple of flicks to make the lighter work, then kneeling, she held the naked flame to the corner of the paper, before dropping it into the fireplace.
She sat there watching the yellow flame eagerly lick its way around the edge of the paper before swallowing it up.
‘Do you have anything you need to burn?’ asked Clara.
Marie came over to kneel beside her friend.
‘I do actually.’ From her pocket she took out a piece of paper that had been scrunched up into a ball.
She flattened it out a little before tossing it into the fire, giving the last remnant of flame something new to feast upon. Soon all that was left was ash.
Clara heard the study door open just as she finished washing the glasses. Marie had left a few minutes earlier, apologising again. ‘There’s no need,’ reassured Clara. ‘We have to do what we must. I understand.’
Friedrich’s footsteps, normally so measured, seemed heavier tonight. She turned to find him standing in the doorway, his uniform jacket unbuttoned, his face drawn with concern.
Clara dried her hands on a cloth. ‘Thank you for the lighter.’
Friedrich crossed the room and took her hands in his. ‘Tell me what happened with this Brandt woman.’
Clara exhaled, eyes dropping to their joined fingers. ‘It’s nothing I can’t handle.’
‘Clara.’ His voice gentled. ‘Liebling, please.’
She met his gaze. ‘She doesn’t like British women. That’s all. She doesn’t trust me.’
Friedrich released her hands and paced to the window, pulling the curtain aside just enough to peer into the street. When he turned back, his expression was full of concern but also a hardness. ‘I don’t want you working there anymore.’
Clara blinked. The bluntness startled her. Friedrich didn’t speak like this.
‘I can’t just leave. It’s not just a job to me. You know that.’
‘It’s not safe.’
‘It’s safe enough.’ Even as she said it, the lie tasted bitter in her mouth. She could still hear Brandt’s threat.
‘I’ve never been one of those husbands who insist on obedience,’ Friedrich said, ‘but this once . . .’ He paused and Clara could see him wrestle with what he wanted to say. Finally, he let out a long sigh as if defeated. ‘Just consider what I’m saying,’ he settled on.
She studied his face. The deep crease in his brow and the firm set of his jaw. She thought of Hannah Rothstein. Of how she’d been turned away like a criminal. And how the authorities were now hunting her down. ‘Please, Friedrich,’ she said quietly. ‘Don’t ask me to walk away.’
‘I can’t protect you there.’
‘And I can’t abandon them.’
He glanced at her medical bag lying by the door like a silent witness. ‘You can’t wage war on the authorities,’ he said softly. ‘You won’t win.’
Clara moved to stand in front of him, reaching for his hand. ‘Then tell me what to do,’ she whispered. ‘Tell me how to leave a woman who is frantic and distraught because she thinks her baby has died in her womb, but no one will help her. Tell me how to be that person.’
Friedrich pulled her against him and was silent for a moment before letting out a long breath. ‘My beautiful, kind-hearted Clara,’ he murmured. ‘Always fighting. Always giving. Always carrying more than your share.’
‘I—’ Clara went to speak but Friedrich put his finger to her lips.
‘I won’t ask you to leave,’ he said taking his hand away. ‘But please, just grant me one wish.’
She nodded. ‘What is it?’
His voice fractured on the words. ‘Please don’t break my heart.’