Chapter 39
It was only after several minutes of hurrying through the streets that Clara slowed to a purposeful walk, her breath coming in sharp puffs in the cool night air.
She paused at the end of the street, pressing herself against a lamp post to check she was heading in the right direction.
Even while fleeing, she had clung to Friedrich’s careful instructions like a lifeline, and she was relieved to find herself exactly where he’d said she would be.
Clara followed the route Friedrich had made her memorise with painstaking detail, turning left at the fountain, damaged now from shrapnel, then walking south past the shuttered shops until she saw a high stone wall topped with black wrought-iron spikes.
The cemetery gates loomed before her, appearing to be chained shut in the diminishing light.
But as she approached, Clara could see that one gate hung slightly askew on damaged hinges, creating just enough space for a person to slip through, exactly as Friedrich had promised.
Even from hundreds of miles away, even separated by borders and war, he was still with her, still protecting her, still ensuring she found her way safely.
Clara made her way deeper into the cemetery, her heart racing as she searched among the weathered monuments and leaning crosses.
Then she saw it. A marble angel with outstretched wings, standing atop a tall pedestal near the heart of the cemetery.
The statue’s serene face gazed downwards, as if watching over all the souls below, while moss had begun to creep up its base.
One side of the angel’s face was more weathered than the other, the dark streaks of damp and lichen making it look as if it were crying.
Cara approached slowly, checking the shadows around her, before taking her position beside the angel to wait.
‘Well, there’s a sight for sore eyes,’ came a voice that Clara recognised instantly. She spun around and there was Rose, standing just a few yards away, the familiar curve of her smile visible through the fading light of dusk. ‘Two angels for the price of one.’
Without hesitation, they rushed towards each other simultaneously, colliding in a fierce embrace that was equal parts laughter, tears and desperate relief.
‘Oh, Rose,’ Clara whispered against her sister’s hair. ‘I can’t believe you’re really here.’ She pulled back to study her younger sister’s face in the dim light. ‘Are you well? Are you safe?’
‘Yes. I’m fine. But you . . . ?’ Rose’s eyes searched Clara’s face with intuition only sisters possessed. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine.’
Rose pressed her lips together before speaking. ‘There’s something you’re not telling me.’
How wonderfully reassuring that Rose could read her so easily, even after all this time apart. Clara hadn’t planned to tell her until they reached England, but now the words tumbled out in a rush. ‘I’m pregnant.’
‘Pregnant?!’ Rose whispered urgently, her eyes widening. ‘Oh, my good god.’ She looked down at Clara’s flat stomach, then back up at her sister’s face. ‘How far along?’
‘Just over three months, I think.’
Rose pulled her in for another fierce embrace. ‘That’s wonderful news. But Clara, leaving Friedrich must be destroying you.’
Clara nodded, not trusting her voice, feeling the familiar sting of tears threatening to spill over.
‘I hate to break up this reunion, but we really need to move,’ came a gruff voice from the shadows.
Clara jumped as a stocky man emerged from behind a nearby mausoleum, his face grim with urgency.
‘That’s Henri and, yes, he’s right,’ Rose said quickly. ‘You weren’t followed, were you?’
‘No, I don’t think so,’ Clara started to explain about Alma, but Henri cut her off.
‘Think? You don’t think so?’ His voice was sharp with disapproval. ‘We can’t afford “thinking” so.’
‘Someone at the hospital suspects I’m not who I claim to be, but they didn’t follow me here,’ Clara said, glancing nervously at the stranger. ‘Though they might have reported their suspicions by now.’
‘Magnificent,’ Henri muttered. ‘Allez! We need to go. Now.’
‘Ignore Henri,’ Rose whispered as she took Clara’s arm and guided her swiftly through the maze of headstones. ‘He’s always this charming.’
‘I can hear you,’ Henri grumbled from behind them.
Rose rolled her eyes at Clara and despite everything, the danger, the fear, the homesickness, Clara found herself smiling back. She had missed her sister desperately and being with Rose again, even under these circumstances, felt like coming home.
Henri moved through the cemetery like a shadow, constantly checking for any threat. ‘Stay close,’ he whispered, his voice carrying the authority of someone who’d done this too many times before.
They escaped the cemetery by scrambling over a section of the wall where the stones had crumbled, leaving jagged gaps just wide enough to squeeze through. Beyond, waiting in the shadows of a narrow side road, sat a truck marked with a bold red cross on its canvas sides.
Clara climbed into the back after Rose, while Henri took his place behind the wheel. The truck bed was filled with wooden crates and sealed boxes stacked nearly to the roof.
‘What’s in these?’ Clara asked, running her hand over the nearest box.
‘Nothing important,’ Rose replied with a wry smile. ‘Officially, medical supplies. The ones at the front actually do contain bandages and morphine. It was just enough to fool a cursory inspection. But the rest are empty decoys. We’re banking on German efficiency not extending to thorough searches.’
Clara had forgotten Rose’s irrepressible optimism in the face of danger. ‘And what’s our story if we’re stopped?’
‘We’re nurses being transferred to a field hospital just outside Dunkirk. Which is partly true. I am a nurse, and you certainly know more about medicine than most.’
‘Is there really a field hospital there?’
‘Not exactly,’ Rose admitted cheerfully.
‘But it’s far enough from any checkpoint that the guards won’t know the local set-up.
It’s all a bit chaotic at the moment, which is to our benefit.
With luck, they’ll just wave us through.
’ She reached into a canvas bag and withdrew something that made Clara’s blood run cold – a small revolver with a dark metal grip.
Rose held it out matter-of-factly. ‘And if luck fails us, we have alternatives.’
‘What? Are you serious?’ Clara pressed herself back against the truck’s side, staring at the weapon as if it might bite her. ‘Rose, I can’t. I’ve never fired a gun. I won’t shoot anyone.’
‘Take it,’ Rose said gently but firmly. ‘You might find you’re braver than you think.’
‘No. I’m not a killer.’
‘If someone was about to shoot me,’ Rose said quietly, ‘would you save my life?’
Clara looked into her sister’s steady gaze. She shouldn’t be surprised that Rose now carried weapons as casually as medical supplies. And the terrible truth was, Rose was right. Clara would do anything to protect her sister.
Her hand trembled violently as she reached out and took the gun, its weight heavier than she expected. She slipped it deep into her bag, hoping desperately she’d never need to find out if she could actually use it.
They fell silent as she adjusted to the weapon’s weight.
She’d seen Friedrich’s service revolver every day, it was part of his uniform, but he always removed it the moment he came home, locking it away in his desk drawer.
‘The image of me holding a gun is not the memory I want you to carry,’ he’d always said. Now she understood what he meant.
‘Are you feeling all right?’ Rose’s gentle question broke through her thoughts.
‘I’m fine. Just tired. Emotional. Terrified,’ Clara confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. ‘I’m not as brave as you, Rose.’
Rose made a soft sound of disagreement. ‘Don’t be fooled. I feel all those things too. I’m just better at pretending I don’t. You’ve always worn your heart on your sleeve.’
Clara managed a weak smile. ‘You always were the actress in the family.’ She reached across the swaying truck to grasp Rose’s hand, feeling a familiar wave of love and protectiveness wash over her.
‘But soon it won’t matter. We’ll be back in England with Evie, and the three Hartwell sisters will be together again. Just like when we were children.’
Rose’s face crumpled slightly, and she bit her lip hard enough to leave marks. ‘Clara, there’s something I haven’t told you.’
Clara’s heart dropped to somewhere on the floor. ‘What? Tell me. Is it Evie? Mum? Papa?’ Suddenly, she felt like she was the younger sister who needed reassuring.
‘Mum and Papa are absolutely fine. But Evie . . .’ Rose’s voice broke slightly. ‘She went to Poland when the war started. To Warsaw, to document what was happening there. As far as we know, she’s still there.’
Clara felt light-headed for a moment. ‘Still there? But that’s impossible. Why didn’t she come home when it became too dangerous?’
‘She chose to stay,’ Rose said quietly. ‘We don’t know all the details. Communication with Poland is nearly impossible, especially about individuals. All we know is that she made the decision to remain and continue her work.’
Clara closed her eyes, trying to process the devastating news. Their baby sister, sweet Evie with her camera and her quiet determination trapped in Nazi-occupied Poland. ‘So, it’s just the two of us,’ she whispered.
The pause that followed stretched like an eternity before Rose spoke again. ‘Only until we reach Dunkirk.’
Clara’s eyes snapped open, meeting Rose’s anguished gaze. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re going back to England on one of the evacuation boats. You’ll take my identity, my papers. But Clara . . .’ Rose’s voice cracked completely. ‘I can’t come with you.’
‘What?’ The word came out as barely a breath.
‘I can’t tell you the details, but I’m staying in France. There’s work to be done here, people who need help.’
Clara stared at her sister as the full implications hit her like a physical blow. Rose was choosing to stay. Choosing to become a spy, to risk her life every single day in occupied territory. Clara would lose her too, just as she’d lost Friedrich, just as they’d already lost Evie.
‘Oh, Rose,’ she whispered. The pride she felt was overwhelming but so was the grief.
This was so typical of Rose – brave, selfless, impossible to dissuade once her mind was made up.
Clara moved across the swaying truck and pulled her sister into her arms, holding her as tightly as she could.
‘I wish it didn’t have to be this way, but I’m so proud of you. So impossibly proud.’
They clung to each other as the truck rumbled through the French countryside, both knowing this embrace would have to last them through the long separation ahead. Clara wasn’t sure her heart could bear another goodbye.