Chapter 34
All too soon the following day came, and it was time for Clara to leave.
She had to be at the tram station for five o’clock in the morning and Friedrich was going to accompany as far as he could.
He couldn’t risk being seen with Clara and recognised as that would give the game away as to Clara’s real identity.
‘Are you ready?’ His voice was gentle.
Clara had her back to the door, and she felt his hands on her shoulders as he spoke. His mouth near her ear. Was she ready? It was probably one of the most ridiculous questions he had ever asked her. She couldn’t look at him. She’d end up bursting into tears.
Instead, she nodded. ‘I think so.’
They stood like that for a moment. As if neither dared to move. It was Friedrich who broke first, turning her around to face him. ‘Be brave, liebling. Be brave for us – all three of us.’
Then with a final hug, he was stepping back, straightening his jacket. She used to love seeing him in his uniform. She used to feel so proud of him, but these days all it engendered was a sour and repugnant sensation. Not Friedrich but everything the uniform represented.
Clara took a deep breath. If there was a time to be brave, then it was now. She owed it to her husband and her unborn child. She looked at Friedrich. ‘I’m ready.’
He picked up her bag. She couldn’t take much with her, just a few changes of clothes.
Too much would arouse suspicion if she were stopped.
But right now, material things didn’t matter.
She followed Friedrich out to the hall, pausing at the table, running her finger down the frame of their wedding photo.
She had so wanted to take that with her, but she couldn’t.
It was too much of a giveaway if her bags were searched.
Instead, she had taken a small photograph of Friedrich and sewn it behind the ribbon of her hat.
They walked hand in hand through the deserted streets of Berlin, their footsteps echoing softly against the cobblestones.
It was the end of May, and the weather was warming, but Clara barely noticed.
Ordinarily, she might have savoured these last moments in the city that had been her home for so long, but today she was desperate to leave it all behind.
‘Remember,’ Friedrich whispered, his voice barely audible in the pre-dawn stillness, ‘you are Frida Hoffmann, married to Karl Hoffmann of Infantry Regiment Fifteen.’ His grip on her hand tightened.
‘If anyone comments on your accent, just say you’re originally from a small town near the Swiss border.
The dialect there can sound different to Berlin ears. Don’t elaborate.’
Clara nodded, her mouth dry. She’d been memorising these details for the last couple of days, repeating them like a prayer. All she had to do now was act natural. Not say too much, not ask questions, be utterly forgettable.
They walked on in a tense silence, every shadow seeming to hide watching eyes, every distant sound making Clara’s pulse quicken. When Friedrich finally stopped about five minutes from the pickup point, Clara felt her courage wavering.
‘Are you sure this is the only option?’ she asked, her heart hammering so hard she was certain he could hear it.
‘You know it is,’ Friedrich said softly, pulling her into the shadows of a doorway. His kiss was desperate and desperately brief. ‘I’ll see you tonight at the border. Don’t be scared. I won’t let you down.’
Clara nodded, fighting back tears. She wanted to cling to him, to draw strength from his presence, but even at this early hour, they couldn’t risk being seen and remembered.
Rising on her tiptoes, she kissed him one last time. ‘I know you won’t let me down. I’ve always trusted you.’ Her voice caught. ‘I love you.’
Before she could lose her nerve, she took her bag from him and stepped out from their hiding place.
Clara rounded the corner and crossed the road, as she headed for the pickup point. It would only take another five minutes, but she had never felt so alone as she did then, walking away from her husband. From the one person who had always protected her and stood by her.
The early morning dawn light was beginning to pierce the night sky, but the shadows in the narrow street seemed to swallow what little illumination there was.
Clara pulled her coat tighter. She glanced back over her shoulder.
The street stretched empty behind her, silent except for the distant rumble of an early tram.
She chided herself for being so nervous. How would she possibly deceive anyone if just walking down a street was making her jump at shadows?
Without warning, a hand shot out from a shop doorway, seizing her arm and yanking her sideways. She opened her mouth to scream, but another hand clamped over it, muffling her cry as she was dragged into the recessed entrance.
Thoughts of what had happened with Fuchs raced through her mind, making her fight back with all her might. She tried to pull the hand from her mouth but was shoved face up against the door. She kicked back with her heel. The assailant grunted and swore.
‘Be quiet!’ hissed a familiar voice. ‘It’s me. Max.’
Clara was spun around to face him. In the dim light, his face was haggard, his eyes filled with suspicion.
‘I’m going to move my hand away,’ Max said. ‘Don’t scream.’
Clara nodded frantically. When he released her, she gasped for air. ‘What on earth are you doing?’
‘Keep your voice down,’ Max snapped pressing closer. ‘Do you want the whole street to hear us?’
‘Maybe don’t grab women off the street,’ shot back Clara, her fear rapidly turning to anger. ‘Maybe next time, cough politely and make yourself known.’
‘So you can run away or call for backup?’
‘What are you talking about? Anyway, what are you doing here?’ She was very aware she couldn’t be late at the pickup point and this little interlude with Max was only going to hold her up.
‘I could ask you the same question.’ His eyes narrowed, studying her face in the shadows. ‘Out for an early morning stroll, are we?’
Clara’s patience snapped. ‘I don’t have time for games, Max. I’m expected somewhere and I can’t be late.’
‘What happened the other night?’ The question came out like an accusation.
‘Paul?’ Clara’s voice caught on his name.
‘Who else?’ Max’s jaw clenched. ‘My friend is dead and, somehow, you walked away without a scratch. Funny how that works.’
‘Paul came to my apartment asking for help. There was a woman, supposedly in labour.’
‘Supposedly?’
‘It was a trap.’ Clara’s voice broke as memories flooded back. ‘Brandt – former colleague of mine who has never liked me, was waiting. She had a gun. Marie tried to save me. And Paul died helping us escape.’
Max’s expression didn’t soften. ‘Convenient story. You survive, they don’t.’
‘How dare you!’ The words came out as a venomous whisper. ‘Paul redeemed himself. He chose to help me escape rather than complete Brandt’s trap. And Marie?’ Her voice cracked. ‘Marie claimed to be the Angel of Life to protect me.’
‘You forgot something important.’ Max stepped closer, his breath hot against her face. ‘You’re married to a Nazi officer. Maybe you’ve been working for them all along.’
The accusation was so outrageous, so insulting after everything she’d sacrificed and everything Friedrich had done to help her, that Clara’s hand moved before her mind could stop it. The slap cracked like a gunshot in the narrow doorway.
Max staggered back, his hand flying to his cheek, surprise replacing suspicion in his eyes.
‘Either you’re a very good liar,’ he said slowly, ‘or you’re telling the truth.’
‘I’m not dignifying that with an answer.’ Clara took the opportunity to push past him and began walking along the street.
Max caught up with her and stepped in front of her, forcing her to stop. ‘Where are you going?’
‘I can’t tell you.’
‘Can’t or won’t?’
‘Both.’
‘So, you’re running away. Just like the British are doing at Dunkirk. Cut and run when things get difficult.’
‘That’s not fair,’ Clara whispered. ‘The British have no choice—’
‘And neither do you, apparently. Abandoning everyone who trusted you.’
Before Clara could react, Max lunged for her handbag, yanking it from her grasp. Her forged papers scattered as he rifled through them.
‘Please,’ Clara whispered, her shoulders sagging in defeat. ‘You don’t understand.’
Max held up the identification papers, his eyebrows raising. ‘Frida Hoffmann? Well, well.’
Heavy footsteps echoed from the main street, coming towards them.
Clara snatched back her papers and shoved them into her bag just as two police officers rounded the corner.
Their keen eyes immediately focusing on Clara and Max.
Clara’s heart sank. Of all the police officers in Berlin, it had to be him.
‘Frau Bergmann,’ Arnold called out, his voice carrying immediate recognition. ‘What brings you out so early?’
‘Schei?e.’ Max uttered the curse under his breath.
Arnold’s eyes flicked between Clara and Max. ‘Is everything all right?’
Clara took a step forward, her mind racing. ‘Good morning, Herr Wachtmeister. Yes, everything is fine. This man—’ she glanced at Max, praying he would follow her lead ‘—he was just telling me about a medical emergency. That he needs help.’
‘At this hour?’ Arnold’s eyebrows rose suspiciously. ‘And who is this man to you?’
‘I don’t know him personally,’ Clara said, trying to keep her voice even. ‘He approached me because he recognised my uniform. His wife’s sister is having complications with her pregnancy.’
‘I see.’ Arnold’s gaze shifted to Max. ‘Your name?’
‘Heinrich Mueller,’ replied Max.
Clara wondered briefly if that was indeed Max’s real name and whether he had papers to back that up, forged or otherwise.
‘And this emergency, where exactly?’ Arnold pulled a notebook from his pocket.
Clara’s pulse raced. ‘I was just explaining to Herr Mueller that I can’t help him. That his sister-in-law needs to attend the hospital or a clinic.’
‘I was just on my way to the hospital now,’ said Max. ‘To see if someone could attend my wife’s sister. I just asked this nurse because I happened to bump into her.’
Arnold nodded, seemingly satisfied. ‘Quite right. You shouldn’t be stopping women on the street. Find proper medical assistance through official channels.’
‘Yes, Herr Wachtmeister.’
‘And you, Frau Bergmann. You never said where you were going?’
‘I am assisting with the transportation of patients,’ said Clara.
Arnold looked at her for a long moment. ‘Don’t let me keep you. Goodbye, Frau Bergmann.’
As Arnold and the other officer, walked on by, Clara closed her eyes momentarily and took in a deep breath, releasing it slowly. She turned to Max. ‘I need to go. I’ll be late.’
Max caught Clara’s arm. ‘Thank you.’
‘Everything I said about the other night was true.’ She met his gaze.
Max nodded. ‘I’m sorry but I had to ask. I had to be sure.’
‘And I’ve passed the test?’ She could hear the bitterness of her words. Clara sighed. ‘I’m not the enemy.’
‘I know that.’ He let go of her arm. ‘You’re leaving, aren’t you? Escaping.’
She nodded. ‘I have to. It’s not about me anymore.’ Her hand automatically went to her stomach.
A gesture not missed by Max. He glanced down at her hand and back to her. ‘I understand. Good luck.’
‘And to you,’ said Clara softly. She squeezed his hand, before walking away.