Chapter 13
The day was pushing on, and Clara was mindful that she had arranged to meet Marie for a coffee before her visit to Frau Müller. Clara had come home a couple of nights ago to find a note pushed under her door.
Coffee? Same time? Same place? M
Clara hadn’t seen Marie for a few weeks now and she missed her friend. As she entered the café, she spotted Marie already seated at their usual table by the window, her nursing bag tucked beside her chair.
‘I’ve already ordered you a coffee,’ Marie said with a smile as Clara approached. She got to her feet and hugged her friend. ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to come. I’m sure you’re very busy in your new job.’
‘I always have time for coffee with you,’ Clara replied, settling into the chair across from her friend. ‘How are things at the Charité?’
Marie stirred sugar into her coffee. ‘Busy, as always. Though we did lose a few more staff recently – transfers and such.’ She lowered her voice slightly. ‘Actually, remember Brandt?’
Clara rolled her eyes. ‘How could I forget her? Such a delight.’
‘Well, she finally got what she wanted – a transfer away from the main hospital. Went to some maternity clinic north of the city.’ Marie waved her hand dismissively.
‘Neuruppin, I think it is called. Good riddance, honestly. The atmosphere on the ward has been so much better without her stirring up trouble.’
‘I’m sure it has,’ Clara agreed, taking a sip of her coffee. ‘At least you don’t have to deal with her anymore.’
Marie nodded enthusiastically. ‘Exactly. Now, enough about work. How are you? You look tired.’
Clara managed a smile. ‘I really enjoy working at the clinic and being able to conduct home visits is something I haven’t done before. In fact, I still have one more to do before I finish today.’
They continued chatting about work, colleagues and the small details of their daily lives – safe subjects that felt like a refuge from the darker currents swirling around the city. All too soon though it was time to get back to work and reality.
After giving Marie a brief hug goodbye, Clara took the tram across the city to Ursula Müller’s home. Twenty minutes later, she was knocking on the door.
‘Frau Bergmann, please, come in,’ greeted Frau Müller. A little, tan-coloured dachshund trotted down the hallway, giving several enthusiastic barks. ‘Now, Kaiser, that’s enough.’
‘Thank you,’ said Clara, stepping into the house and giving the pregnant woman a quick glance over with her trained eye.
‘Ignore Kaiser. He’ll stop barking in a minute. He’s a big dog in a little body.’
As Clara followed Frau Müller into the house, she scanned the hallway, checking the layout of the property, trying to work out where the study was situated.
‘Please, sit down. Can I offer you a drink?’
‘No, thank you.’ Clara looked around the room at the pillow and blanket on the chaise longue.
The room was very tastefully decorated, with a sophisticated elegance.
She could imagine during the day, especially the summer months, daylight streaming in through the tall windows, which were draped with heavy silk curtains in a soft shade of blue.
A gleaming mahogany display cabinet showcased delicate porcelain figurines and silver-framed photographs.
Across the room, a grand piano stood majestically by the marble fireplace.
The furnishings spoke of wealth and taste. ‘Shall I examine you here?’
‘If that’s all right with you.’ Ursula sat down on the chaise and swung her legs up, before adjusting her dress so Clara could feel her stomach.
Kaiser jumped up onto the chaise and curled up protectively beside his owner.
‘Hans tried to train him to stay off the furniture, but I’m afraid I’ve spoiled him terribly,’ Frau Müller said, stroking the dachshund’s head.
‘He’s my constant companion these past weeks.
Do you have any pets?’ She passed Clara her ante-natal record card that was on the side table.
‘No. I work so it wouldn’t be fair to leave a dog on its own all day.’
‘That’s very true.’ Frau Müller stroked the dog’s head. ‘I can’t imagine leaving Kaiser on his own for very long.’
‘He’s clearly devoted to you,’ replied Clara, wrapping the blood pressure cuff around Frau Müller’s arm.
‘Hans thinks I show Kaiser far too much affection.’ The German woman gave a laugh. ‘Anyone would think he was jealous of a dog.’
‘Well, Kaiser is very adorable,’ said Clara, giving the dog a quick tickle under his chin before turning her attention back to the blood pressure.
‘Men are like children sometimes,’ said Frau Müller. Her laugh tinkled like a crystal glass being tapped with a teaspoon.
Clara recorded her patient’s blood pressure. ‘That’s much better than yesterday. Glad you’re following instructions and resting well.’
Frau Müller patted her tummy. ‘I have a very good incentive. Not to mention an excellent midwife.’ After a pause, she added more quietly, ‘It must be difficult for you . . . being British in Berlin these days.’
Clara’s hands stilled momentarily. ‘It has its challenges.’
‘I can imagine. People are very small minded at times. My neighbour—’ she gestured to the house next door ‘—Frau Graff, has barely spoken to me since she found out I was still using the Jewish seamstress in Kurfürstendamm,’ scoffed Frau Müller, referring to the major shopping street in the city.
‘Can you imagine? How she thought using a different seamstress, by that I mean not Jewish, would help Germany win the war, I don’t know. ’ She rolled her eyes in exasperation.
Clara couldn’t help being a little surprised by this admission from Frau Müller. Most Jewish businesses in the city had been closed down. ‘Is the seamstress still there?’
‘Sadly, no. You know what it’s like.’ Frau Müller held Clara’s gaze for a moment, before continuing. ‘Do you know, you’re the first person I’ve spoken to all day since Hans left for work this morning. Tell me, what’s going on out there in the city?’
‘Just the usual. Just like any other day,’ said Clara. ‘People rushing about, trams full, more police about.’ She rubbed her hands together to warm them up before placing them on Ursula’s stomach. She began to feel for the baby, checking its position.
‘I feel very alone sometimes,’ said Frau Müller. ‘I don’t have many friends.’
‘It’s not about the number of friends but the quality of friendship,’ said Clara, reciting something their mother had often said to her and her sisters.
‘Those are very wise words.’
‘Wise words from my mother.’ Satisfied the baby was in the correct position, Clara made a note of it on the record card.
‘You must miss your mother,’ said Frau Müller. ‘Being so far away.’
An unexpected lump lodged itself in Clara’s throat as she thought of her family back home in England. She nodded. ‘Yes, I do. And my sisters.’
‘What made you come to Germany?’
Clara hadn’t been asked this question for a long time.
It took her by surprise a little. She wasn’t used to this level of openness from her patients.
Often there wasn’t time to discuss much more than the pregnancy or the new baby.
It made a change for someone to be interested in her personally, especially in light of how Germany was treating foreigners now.
She placed the record card back on the side table. ‘I worked as a midwife in London. I was actually engaged to a doctor from the hospital where I worked.’
Frau Müller raised her eyebrows. ‘Engaged? Was? I assume that your then fiancé isn’t your now husband?’
Clara smiled. ‘Most definitely not.’ She wasn’t sure why, but she felt compelled to open up to Ursula.
She sensed the soon-to-be mother was lonely, but it wasn’t just Clara being professional, there seemed a deeper connection that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
‘My fiancé, Gordon, was traditional, shall we say. I found out before it was too late that once we were married he expected me to stay at home and give up my career. A career I had worked hard for.’
‘You didn’t want to be a wife and homemaker, a mother?’ asked Frau Müller.
‘On the contrary. I wanted all that, but not straightaway,’ confessed Clara, remembering that awful argument she’d had with Gordon.
‘He wanted me to give up my job immediately. He thought it was a foregone conclusion. He was more worried about how it would look to his friends and colleagues to have a working wife.’
‘Oh dear. It makes me feel rather shallow. I couldn’t wait to be a wife and a mother. Although, I didn’t have a career to tempt me.’
‘I did want all of those things, but I wanted to succeed professionally first,’ explained Clara. ‘Wanting to be a wife and mother are wonderful things, there is nothing wrong with that, but we are all different. My parents encouraged me and my sisters to forge a career first.’
‘So, what made you leave England? I assume you broke off your engagement?’ Frau Müller shuffled her dress back down over her stomach now that Clara had finished with the physical examination.
‘Yes. I did. I knew I wouldn’t be happy, and I didn’t want to find myself trapped.
’ Clara inwardly winced at the memory of that conversation with Gordon.
He hadn’t taken it well. Her parents and sisters, however, had fully backed her.
Gosh, she missed them more than ever. The isolation of Berlin was bringing the distance and barriers between them into sharp focus.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,’ said Frau Müller.
‘I’m fine, honestly,’ said Clara, swallowing hard and blinking back unexpected tears. She was not supposed to cry in front of her patients.
Frau Müller reached out and put her hand on Clara’s arm. ‘You don’t have to pretend,’ she said. ‘It’s all right to show your feelings.’
The small act of kindness was too much for Clara and much to her embarrassment, the tears came in a flood. She swiped at a handkerchief from her pocket to wipe them away. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she began.