Chapter 25
Spring had arrived in Berlin with an almost mocking cheerfulness, as if the city could forget the darkness that had settled over it through the long winter months.
Over that time, Clara had memorised the rhythm of Hans Müller’s routine down to the minute.
Several months of Thursday visits had taught her exactly how long it took him to remove his coat, greet his wife, and take Kaiser for his evening constitutional.
Six months of friendship with Ursula, six months of stolen glances at forbidden lists, six months of names saved, and names lost.
Clara emerged from the clinic into the crisp spring air.
She pulled her scarf tighter around her and paused for a moment, grateful for the coolness against her flushed cheeks.
The sterile warmth of the clinic was stifling some days.
As she drew a deep breath, a thought struck her suddenly.
When had her last monthly period been? February?
She frowned as she tried to recall, then shook her head firmly.
No. It wasn’t possible, was it? Not after all this time?
She pulled her scarf tighter around her and head down against the wind, made her way up the road to the tram stop, pushing the foolish thought aside.
She was about to start her afternoon home visits.
She was particularly anxious to get to Ursula that evening.
Ursula’s blood pressure had been raised the day before and she had been complaining of backache.
The baby was due in roughly three weeks’ time, but as Clara was well aware, babies tended not to stick to the schedule.
As she was mentally going over the scenario of Ursula going into labour, a voice cut through her thoughts.
‘If it isn’t Miss Clara. What a surprise.’
Clara spun around towards the voice she’d just passed to find Greta Brandt stepping out from the shadows of a shop doorway.
‘Frau Brandt.’ Clara’s voice came out steadier than she felt. ‘It is indeed a surprise that we should meet. What are you doing here?’
‘Oh, just visiting Berlin on official business. I no longer work at the Charité. But you probably know that already.’
‘No. I didn’t, actually.’ Clara’s heart picked up its pace. ‘Well, if you’ll excuse me, I am on house calls this afternoon and have patients to attend to.’
She went to sidestep Brandt, but the German planted her feet solidly in Clara’s path.
‘I would tell you where I’m working now, but again, you probably know that already.
’ There was a glint of satisfaction in the woman’s eyes.
She was clearly savouring the moment. ‘I’ve been asked to assist with a rather important investigation.
Something that’s been keeping the authorities quite busy lately. ’
‘That’s good for you. Now, I really must get on.’
‘Oh, but I think you’ll find this fascinating.
’ Brandt grabbed Clara’s arm, forcing her to stop.
‘You see, they’re looking for someone. A midwife who’s been, shall we say, operating outside official channels.
’ Her fingers pinched into Clara’s arm. ‘The strangest thing happened though. When I heard about this investigation, I couldn’t help but remember an incident from my previous posting.
A midwife who claimed to be collecting a pregnant woman after an administrative error. ’
Clara’s mouth dried. ‘I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Don’t you?’ Brandt’s voice dropped to a whisper.
‘Someone with a strange accent, possibly British. A midwife. Someone who collected a patient and disappeared rather suddenly. A midwife who, after enquiries, it seemed no one had heard of.’ She leaned closer.
‘I’ve been thinking about that visit for months, Miss Clara.
And now, hearing about this Angel of Life, well, it’s remarkable how these things can appear connected, isn’t it? ’
‘It could be anyone,’ said Clara carefully.
‘Could it?’ Brandt’s eyes glittered with malice. ‘Tell me, have you heard any rumours about the Angel of Life? Being a midwife yourself, surely word travels in your professional circles.’
The question was a trap, and Clara knew it. ‘I’m afraid I can’t help you with your investigation, Frau Brandt.’
‘I thought so.’ Brandt almost purred the words. ‘You see, I’ve volunteered to help identify this person. The authorities are very interested in my insights.’
Clara straightened her spine, summoning her courage.
‘I’m sure the authorities are very grateful for your help.
I would strongly warn against jumping to conclusions based on instincts.
Ensure you have hard facts so no one’s time is wasted.
Reckless accusations could land you in serious trouble, the kind of trouble that ends careers. ’
For the first time, Brandt looked uncertain, but she quickly recovered. ‘You think you are clever, but you don’t fool me.’
‘Likewise,’ said Clara. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do. The kind of work that serves the Reich properly.’
This time Brandt didn’t try to stop her walking away. Clara kept her back straight, her head held high, and her pace measured. Only when she was safely seated on the tram did she allow her hands to shake.
Her visit to Ursula helped her focus her mind on something other than Brandt and by the time she left, Clara felt much calmer.
She made her way across the city to the church and after kneeling in the Lady Chapel, she lit a candle and struck a mark on the wall.
She needed to tell Max about Brandt, about the investigation which if it gained momentum, could compromise not only Clara, but Max and the wider resistance operation.
As she left the church, she had that feeling of being watched again – the sensation that never seemed to leave her these days but tonight felt especially strong.
She rounded the corner and was about to cross the road when she heard footsteps behind her.
She turned around and saw the figure of a man approaching.
‘It’s me,’ came Max’s voice.
Clara breathed a sigh of relief. ‘I’ve just been to the church.’
‘I know. I’ve been watching you.’ Max was at her side now. ‘Keep walking. Talk as we go.’
Clara told him about Brandt, about the investigation, about her fears of the authorities closing in around them.
When she finished, Max was silent for a long moment.
‘I’ll look into it. At the moment we have a bigger problem to deal with.
We’ve identified the policeman who has been receiving information about the work we are doing.
About the women we are rescuing. We had two safe houses compromised this past month.
A family arrested just hours before their planned evacuations.
Now we know who the policeman is, Fuchs is his name, we can find out who the informer is. ’
Clara felt sick. ‘Fuchs? I know who he is.’
Max looked across at her, his eyes narrowed. ‘You do?’
‘He works at the station I have to report to every week. He threatened me during my check-in. He’s a disgusting man.’
‘Threatened you. How?’
Clara’s shoulders tensed. ‘He suggested I could trade favours for protection. Made it clear he knew where I lived.’
‘That’s exactly his method. Intimidation, exploitation. So you know what he looks like and where he works out of?’
Clara nodded. ‘Unfortunately.’
‘We need to find out who’s feeding him information. The leaks are getting people killed.’
Clara didn’t hesitate. ‘I can follow him,’ she said, ignoring the voice at the back of her mind that Friedrich would be furious if he knew what she was saying. ‘I know what he looks like. I can move around the city easily without too much suspicion. I have a legitimate travel pass if I’m stopped.’
Max appraised Clara for a long moment and she saw a new-found respect in his eyes. ‘This is dangerous, Clara. More dangerous than copying lists.’
‘I know.’
‘Do you?’ Max leaned towards her. ‘If he catches you following him, he won’t just arrest you. A man like that will make you disappear.’
‘Then I won’t get caught.’
Max nodded slowly. ‘Listen carefully. Wait until he finishes his shift, probably at around six o’clock.
Keep at least fifty metres back, use shop windows and doorways for cover.
If he enters a building, note the address but don’t follow him inside.
Watch for anyone who approaches him. They will be nervous, looking around constantly. Looking for someone watching them.’
‘And what next? I probably won’t recognise them.’
‘Follow the informant afterwards. Note where they go. Where they live. We need to know who is betraying their own people.’
‘And if there’s more than one meeting?’
‘Document everything. But, Clara—’ Max’s eyes were deadly serious ‘—if anything feels wrong, if you sense even the slightest danger, you abort. The information isn’t worth your life. Other people need you more.’
Clara nodded, hardly able to believe what she was getting herself into.
She wasn’t the same person she was when she first came to Berlin.
She barely recognised herself these days.
Who was she? Was she English? German? Traitor or saviour?
She no longer knew which parts of herself were real and which were merely survival.
Between Brandt’s investigation and this new mission, the walls were closing in from all sides. But she thought of the families she’d helped save, of the babies born into hiding, and those names on the list.
‘When do I start?’ she asked, feeling a surge of determination and defiance against the regime.