Chapter 14
Thursday mornings held new meaning for Clara now.
They marked her life in Berlin with a stamp in her ‘foreigners’ booklet, the permission to carry on living in the city, going to work and freedom.
Every week it was a relief to receive that stamp, but it was also a reminder that she was a foreigner, one her host country was at war with.
Her freedom was strictly on their terms and at their will.
It could be revoked at any given moment.
Despite this social tightrope she found herself on, she had always been treated with courtesy by the sergeant at the police station who knew Friedrich.
The two men had apparently been to school together and although were more acquaintances than friends, he had recognised Friedrich’s name on Clara’s papers.
Clara had already spoken to the clinic about the need to register at the police station every Thursday morning and they had been understanding.
It also meant she didn’t have to leave the apartment quite so early which was a blessing that morning as she hadn’t slept well at all.
She was physically exhausted after the events of the previous day, but her mind had refused to switch off.
In fact, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about what Max and Karl had told her was happening to some of the women and their babies. It was beyond her comprehension.
The more she thought about it, the more she knew she had to do more than just take their word for it. She had to see for herself and the only way she could do that was by getting hold of Hans Müller’s list.
As she headed out towards the police station, she pondered the scenarios in which she could get access to the study.
She would have to somehow make sure Ursula didn’t see her, whether she could get Ursula to rest in her bedroom, Clara wasn’t sure.
She needed to come up with a plausible reason.
She hated the thought of deceiving Ursula, but she couldn’t compare it to what was at risk.
Clara pushed open the door to the police station, feeling somewhat nervous. She prayed her nerves didn’t show, and that her hands would hold steady as she passed over her documentation. The guilt and secrets she carried with her were heavier with each passing day.
To her dismay, it wasn’t Friedrich’s old school friend standing behind the desk that morning, but a police officer she didn’t recognise. He was leaning on the counter, reading a newspaper, not even bothering to look up as she closed the door behind her.
Clara approached the desk, her papers already in her hand. She waited for several seconds, before the man finally looked up at her.
‘Guten Morgen,’ said Clara, placing her papers on the counter.
The policeman let out a long sigh, before pushing himself up from the desk and closing his newspaper. He took her documents, opened the booklet and studied the information for some time before regarding her again, this time with narrowed eyes.
‘Frau Bergmann,’ he said, his gaze flitting back to the document.
‘Yes, that’s right.’ Clara’s palms were sweating, and she was glad she was wearing gloves.
‘You are still working at the Wilmersdorf Geburtsklinik?’
‘I am,’ confirmed Clara.
He raised his eyebrows. ‘They must think highly of you.’
‘I just do my job to the best of my ability.’ Clara felt uneasy at the conversation.
She wasn’t usually questioned like this.
Maybe it was because she hadn’t seen this policeman before.
He was probably around her own age, with cropped blond hair, which emphasised his round face and rosy cheeks.
He looked like he was permanently blushing.
He cast another look at her. His gaze travelled down her body and back up to her face.
His top lip glinted with sweat and even from across the counter, she could smell the coffee on his breath.
‘And what do your patients think to having a foreigner as their nurse. Sorry, not just a foreigner are you? You’re the enemy.’
Clara’s mouth dried and she swallowed before speaking. ‘My patients don’t mind. My skills are just as good for them as any other midwife’s.’ She smiled, trying to disguise the indignation in her voice.
‘Skills? You have good skills?’
A look that Clara couldn’t quite identify passed across his face as he spoke.
‘Midwifery skills, yes,’ she replied steadily.
‘I expect you have other skills too.’ A smile formed on the officer’s mouth.
Clara couldn’t prevent the sharp intake of breath she gave.
She felt sick at the suggestion. A flurry of anger welled up inside her.
He had no right to make any kind of threat like that.
‘I am a married woman. My husband is an officer at the Bendlerblock,’ she said.
‘All my papers are in order, and I have permission to live and work in the city. If there is a problem with the papers, perhaps you could speak to him.’
The obnoxious disgusting pig of a policeman seemed unconcerned by Clara’s response. He merely smiled broader as if enjoying the exchange and Clara’s obvious discomfort.
He held her gaze for moment before looking back at the papers.
Then he read Clara’s address out loud. ‘Kantstra?e 47, 2.Stock. Very nice part of the city,’ he said, finally stamping the document.
He passed it back across the desk, holding onto it as Clara went to take it.
‘I am sometimes in the area. I could call by one day when your husband is at work. Just to make sure everything is as it should be and you are, indeed, following all the rules.’
At that moment, the door to the office behind the desk opened and Herr Arnold, Friedrich’s school friend, appeared in the foyer.
‘Frau Bergmann,’ he said with a polite nod of the head. ‘How are you?’
‘Very well, thank you,’ said Clara, relief washing over her.
‘And Friedrich? Is he keeping well? I expect he’s busy as ever.’
‘He’s very well, too,’ replied Clara, silently praying he wouldn’t ask any more details about where exactly Friedrich was at that moment.
Arnold’s gaze flicked between Clara and his colleague. ‘Is everything all right, Fuchs?’ he asked.
The policeman Clara now knew was Fuchs grunted and released his hold on the document. ‘Yes. Everything is fine. Danke, Frau Bergmann. I look forward to seeing you again.’
Goose bumps pricked Clara’s skin and her stomach churned at the repulsive thought. ‘Danke,’ she muttered, taking the documents and pushing them safely into her handbag.
Arnold had moved around to the front of the desk and held the door open for her, before following her out onto the street. ‘Come at eight o’clock next week,’ he told her.
Clara nodded. ‘Eight o’clock,’ she repeated, hoping that would mean Herr Arnold would be there himself.
‘I will look forward to seeing you.’ This time the phrase instilled reassurance rather than fear.
However, it didn’t negate the fear that Fuchs might turn up at her apartment one day unannounced and very much unwelcome.
It was busy at the clinic that morning which was good as it kept her mind occupied.
The home visits that afternoon were straightforward, especially so as she didn’t have to squeeze in any clandestine visits to the Jewish district of Berlin.
She hadn’t heard from the mother she saw the previous day, so she assumed everything was all right, thank goodness.
Her house calls took her to three different women that afternoon, with Ursula being her last patient of the day. It was a quarter to six by the time she got there.
‘Oh, I was beginning to worry about you,’ said Ursula as she opened the door for Clara to enter. ‘Have you had a busy day? You look very tired? Would you like a coffee?’
The kind words from a woman she barely knew warmed Clara’s heart.
Just having a friend to notice her tiredness and offer to make her a drink was a small but significant act of friendship.
However, she had to remind herself that she was first and foremost a midwife and there to look after Ursula, not the other way around.
‘It has been a busy day, indeed,’ said Clara, ensuring she sounded uplifting rather than worn out. ‘I can make coffee for you. You’re supposed to be resting but first, I’d like to examine you.’
‘You’re so kind, Clara.’
Another gesture of friendship, calling Clara by her first name.
People were still very formal in Germany, even when acquaintances were quite familiar with each other.
Clara missed the easy way she would have spoken with her friends back in England and appreciated the tiny but not insignificant moment.
She followed Ursula into the living room, where once again she made herself comfortable on the chaise so Clara could carry out her examination.
She was relieved to see that Ursula and the baby were indeed in good health. ‘Everything is fine,’ she reassured Ursula. ‘Now, let me make that coffee. And I’ll make you some stew too.’
‘I really don’t like imposing on you,’ said Ursula.
‘It’s not an imposition. You should rest for a while. You should really be taking naps in the afternoon.’
Kaiser trotted into the living room and hopped up on the chaise, spinning around several times before burying himself in the blanket on Ursula’s lap. She gave a laugh. ‘I’m going to take that as a sign that even Kaiser thinks I need to rest.’ She smiled up at Clara. ‘Thank you. You’re an angel.’
The comment reminded Clara of what the Jewish woman had called her and immediately it brought back into sharp focus one of her reasons for being there. ‘I’ll pull the door,’ she said. ‘I’ll wake you up once the meal is ready.’
When she went back in a few minutes later with the hot drink, Ursula was sound asleep. At that moment the front door opened, and she heard Herr Müller call out. Kaiser immediately hopped off the chaise and trotted out to greet his owner. Clara hurriedly closed the door to the sitting room.