Chapter 11
Clara spent another thirty minutes or so in the back room of the café, listening to Max’s instructions on what exactly she was looking for and how she would copy and pass the information onto him.
‘The first list you are looking for is that of pregnant Jewish women. It will have their name, address and due date, together with other known family members,’ explained Max. ‘Look for some sort of indication, a marker of some kind, singling out certain names.’
‘What does the marker represent?’ asked Clara.
‘Women who are to be relocated that week,’ said Max. He looked meaningfully at Clara.
She nodded. She had heard more and more about families, especially women and young babies, being relocated. Dawn raids on Jewish family homes and occupants being whisked away, never to return.
‘You need to find out where exactly the women are being moved to,’ said Karl, bringing her back from her thoughts. ‘And I will tell you something now, it’s not any new apartments.’
Clara frowned. ‘What is happening to them?’
Karl made the scoffing noise he had done earlier. ‘You really don’t know? How lucky for you.’
‘Karl, it is not Clara’s fault,’ said Max, his tone firm.
‘If you explain what it is, it might help me,’ said Clara. She wasn’t sure she liked Karl that much. Max seemed more reasonable. Maybe it was because she was British.
‘After the women are moved, they are never seen again.’ Karl’s hand balled into a fist as he spoke. ‘Not them. Not their babies.’
Clara looked from one man to the other and then back to Karl as understanding settled on her. ‘You?’ she said eventually, her voice barely more than a whisper. ‘You’ve lost someone?’
‘My sister,’ replied Karl. ‘She was taken a month ago. I don’t know where. I am trying to find her and all the other women who have disappeared.’
Clara shook her head. She thought of what the Rothsteins and Bauers had said about their neighbours disappearing. The authorities weren’t just targeting the Jewish community, it was more than that. ‘They are making pregnant Jewish women disappear?’ The question lodged in her throat.
‘You don’t believe us?’ demanded Karl. ‘We are not telling lies.’
‘No. It’s not that,’ protested Clara. ‘It’s just . . .’ She searched for the right word.
‘Barbaric,’ suggested Max.
Clara swallowed hard. ‘The babies? What happens to them?’
‘We can only guess.’ Max broke his gaze and lit another cigarette, his hand shook as he flicked his lighter.
‘We need to save as many as we can from that fate. We need to know where they’ve been taken.
That is why you must find that information.
Do you understand now?’ He rose to his feet abruptly, his chair scraping on the wooden floorboards.
‘Do you understand?’ he repeated, his voice rising.
‘Yes. Yes, I do,’ said Clara quickly. Up until now, Max had been calm and controlled. It frightened her to see him agitated. ‘I will do whatever I can to help.’
‘And you know what will happen to you if you are caught?’
She could only guess. If they were doing this to pregnant Jewish women, making them disappear, what would they do to her?
An Englishwoman. A traitor in their eyes.
Someone actively undermining their grotesque plans.
She wouldn’t just disappear. They would make sure everyone knew what happened to those who defied them.
She lifted her chin. ‘I know it won’t be pleasant.’
Max gave a snort of laughter. ‘No, it won’t be pleasant at all.’ He breathed out a long sigh and sat back down.
‘You find the lists, and we shall make sure you and your husband are safe,’ said Karl.
‘You don’t need to threaten me,’ snapped Clara.
She was still reeling at the thought of what was happening to the women and babies.
‘I am doing this because I want to. I cannot stand by and do nothing. I will get the information. You don’t have to worry about trusting me.
’ She got to her feet. ‘Now, if you’d care to show me back to the main road so I can get a tram home, I’d be grateful.
I don’t want to be any later and have to explain to my husband where I have been. ’
Clara had only been home long enough to place the beef stew in the oven when she heard Friedrich’s key in the lock.
As she greeted him, she noticed the dark circles under his eyes, shadows that had deepened over the past few weeks.
His face was gaunt, drawn tight with fatigue.
He smiled, kissed her and wrapped her in a familiar embrace, but she couldn’t ignore the invisible burden his shoulders were carrying.
She wished she could lift whatever it was from him. It hurt to see him like this – present, yet distant. She knew it must be to do with his work and the tensions across Europe.
The war existed in some sort of strange limbo.
Germany had claimed victory over Poland.
Earlier in the month, Hitler had given a speech offering peace to France and Britain, which had been rejected.
A response that had surprised many. Now the entire country seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
Clara was sure Friedrich knew more, especially given his position as a logistics officer.
She could tell by the way he sometimes stared out of the window, distracted by his thoughts.
He would have access to the kind of details others could only speculate, things like supply movements, troop deployments.
But he would never say. He’d want to protect her from that in the same way he always tried to protect her from everything, especially now.
When they sat down to eat a short time later, the aroma of the beef stew filling the air, Clara asked Friedrich about his day, like she normally would.
She placed a warm bread roll on his plate, attempting to create an illusion of normalcy and to try to smooth the edges of unease with the comfort of routine.
They ate their meal in silence, punctuated only by Friedrich complimenting her on the food.
She could sense some of the tension in the room easing as he acclimatised to being home, something he needed to do more regularly in recent weeks.
She sensed there was something different that evening though, something he couldn’t quite shake off.
But she wouldn’t press him, she’d wait until he was ready to talk.
When they had finished their meal Friedrich let out a long sigh. ‘I was waiting until after dinner to speak to you.’ His voice was serious.
‘What is it?’ she asked, feeling both relieved and nervous. Whatever had been bothering him felt different tonight.
‘I’ve been ordered to conduct a comprehensive inventory of winter medical supplies at depots along the western border. With cold weather approaching, they’re concerned with the proper distribution of cold-weather kits.’ He looked apologetic.
Clara let the significance of the words sink in. ‘Along the western border?’
He nodded. ‘I’ll be gone for five days.’ He reached out and covered her hand with his. ‘I leave tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow?’ She blinked hard, not wishing to cry. He was only going for five days. She’d be fine. Of course she would. But she also couldn’t deny the flutter of panic in her chest. She didn’t want to be left alone in Berlin without him.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Friedrich.
Clara took a deep breath. She didn’t want to make this harder for Friedrich, causing him to worry about her. ‘I understand,’ she said, offering up a smile of reassurance. ‘I know it’s your work.’
A small smile tugged at the corners of Friedrich’s mouth. ‘I appreciate you taking on the role of a good stoic wife of a German officer.’ He dipped his head to catch her gaze. And then more seriously, ‘But I also know you’re nervous.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ she repeated, blinking harder.
‘I could ask my mother if you could stay with her while I’m gone.’
‘No. I think that would put your mother in a difficult position,’ said Clara.
‘You’re her daughter-in-law. My wife. I can speak to my father. He would be happy for you to stay.’
Clara thought of her in-laws. They had welcomed her warmly into the family when she married their son.
They had always made her feel part of them.
Until recently. She hadn’t seen them since Gertrud had cancelled lunch that day.
It hurt, there was no denying, and she could confront them or ask Friedrich to fight her corner, but she didn’t want to do that to him.
They were his parents, and she wasn’t going to be the one to come between them.
‘It’s kind of you to offer,’ she said. ‘I will miss you and I wish you didn’t have to go, but I’ll be fine. Please don’t worry about me.’
Friedrich’s expression was a mix of love and sadness. ‘I’m sorry, liebling.’
She put her hand to his cheek. ‘You don’t need to apologise.
I’ll be busy with work. I can ask for extra shifts.
Anyway, I haven’t had the chance to tell you about today.
I’ve been assigned my first private patient and I’m attending her at her home tomorrow.
’ She chatted away, rather too enthusiastically, about her day and how she’d met Ursula Müller already.
It was easier than having to think about all the reasons why Friedrich’s family had turned their back on her.
As she cleared away the dishes, Clara thought of what had happened that evening after work.
What Max and Karl had told her about the pregnant women and newborn babies.
She wished she could confide in Friedrich, but something had stopped her.
He had enough on his mind without taking on her worries and what could he do?
By telling him she would put him in an untenable position where he would have to choose between his wife and his country.
She didn’t want to do that to him. She was certain he’d choose her but then what of him if it was ever found out that he hadn’t reported his British wife, who most definitely was about to become a spy.
She was well aware of the risks to her – she’d be hanged.
She shuddered, trying not to think about that.
It seemed so alien to her, she almost couldn’t imagine it happening.
But Friedrich, he’d be court-martialled.
At best imprisoned and at worse the firing squad .
. . again she didn’t want to think about it.
No, it was best she didn’t tell him about what she was going to do.
She wasn’t sure how she was going to get the information Max had requested.
She would have to make sure her visit was one of the last of the evening so she could be there when Herr Müller took the dog for a walk.
Somehow she’d have to make an excuse to gain access to the study or wherever it was he had put his briefcase.
But that wasn’t what troubled her the most. It was the thought of the women and babies. It was hard to believe such a thing was true. Surely no human being would do what they were suggesting. It was this disbelief that was spurring on her determination to get the information.
Later that night, as moonlight flickered through the thin curtains of their bedroom, their lovemaking carried a different cadence to usual.
Friedrich’s touch was more deliberate, as he traced the curve of her hip, the hollow of her throat.
Clara felt the intensity of his meaning in the way he whispered her name and kissed her skin.
Afterwards, as Clara lay nestled against his chest, her arm across his body, she didn’t want to ever let go.
Friedrich kissed the top of her head. ‘Five days will pass quickly,’ he murmured, his thumb gently stroking her bare shoulder.
Clara didn’t trust herself to answer. He was right, five days really wasn’t that long, but she couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was shifting and she didn’t feel safe anymore.
It was as if they were on the edge of something irreversible and something she had no control over, and nothing would be safe or the same again.