Chapter 22
Hannah missed dinner that evening. Lizzie waited in the lodgers’ sitting room as the minutes ticked by, a radio propaganda broadcast droning in the background.
Lizzie was just about to go in search of Hannah when she appeared at the door, rosy-cheeked and red-eyed.
She signalled for Lizzie to follow her, and they climbed the steep stairs to their attic retreat.
‘Are you alright? You’re never this late. I was about to come looking for you,’ Lizzie said, relief coursing through her. She’d feared Hannah had been compromised as she usually arrived home each evening from the Air Ministry like clockwork.
‘The supervisor caught me looking at some secret files. I thought I’d got away with it, but when I was packing up for the day like the others in the typing pool, she said she had an urgent assignment for me, and I must stay until it was finished.’
Lizzie searched Hannah’s face; a knot forming in her belly. ‘Are you in danger?’
Hannah shook her head as she removed her shoes and flopped onto her narrow bed. ‘No, I don’t think so. At least she may suspect something, but she doesn’t know anything. I returned the file before she saw it, and I made up a good excuse for being there.’
Lizzie whispered. ‘Was it a file about the secret weapons? I’ve been wondering when we will get something from Ingrid.’
Hannah explained how she’d stumbled on the files listing the captured Allied airmen, and how she’d gone back to search for Henry’s name after seeing he wasn’t listed as transferred to a prisoner-of-war camp after the crash.
‘That’s when she caught me. I shouldn’t have done it, but I couldn’t stop myself. I had to know,’ Hannah sniffed. Her face crumpled, and the tears spilt uncontrollably down her pink cheeks.
Lizzie sat next to her on the edge of the bed. ‘What did you find out?’ she whispered, guessing the answer from Hannah’s distraught expression and choked response.
‘Henry is dead. He died in the crash,’ Hannah gasped, struggling to get the words out.
Anguish gripped Lizzie, and an image of Jack waiting for news of his brother in London reared in her mind.
Henry was dead, and she would have to tell him.
Poor Jack. And Hannah, who had lost so many dear to her and now her beloved fiancé too.
The poor girl had discovered the truth in the cruellest way.
Lizzie wrapped her arms around her friend, holding her tight as Hannah surrendered to the fierce emotions rolling through her. Lizzie couldn’t hold back her tears, and they rocked together weeping quietly.
Hannah’s tears gradually subsided, and Lizzie passed her a handkerchief. ‘Here, wipe your face and rest now. It’s been a dreadful shock. I will tell Frau Fischer you were working and ask for a light supper for you to eat up here. You must keep up your strength.’
After dabbing her wet eyes and composing herself, Lizzie ran downstairs to look for the landlady. The hour was growing late, but they had become quite friendly, so she didn’t think Frau Fischer would mind giving her a tray for their room on this one occasion.
Outside the landlady’s private parlour, where she spent her time after completing her duties for the day, Lizzie heard a German radio broadcast in the background and listened closely.
The volume was too low to make out the contents of the broadcast, but she heard Frau Fischer’s voice and, after checking no one was watching, she put her ear to the door.
A man’s voice replied to the landlady, and all she could decipher was, ‘The two widows …’
Then heavy footsteps approached, and Lizzie moved away from the door, trying to act as though she had just arrived and was about to knock. The door swung open, and a familiar face appeared.
‘Good evening, Frau Weber,’ Herr Vogel said, his tone formal and his face registering surprise.
‘Good evening, Herr Vogel,’ Lizzie replied, her stomach dropping. He was the last person she’d expected to see in the landlady’s private rooms, and the situation was most peculiar.
Lizzie stepped aside, and the lodger moved past her into the hallway, turning as he did and calling, ‘You have a visitor.’
Frau Fischer came to the door, looking flustered but quickly recovering as she checked her watch. ‘How may I help you, Anna?’
She had recently switched to addressing Lizzie by her first name during their morning chats in the dining room, but she hadn’t given Lizzie the feeling that she would appreciate her doing the same.
The landlady was considerably older than Lizzie, so she kept it formal as it seemed to make her more comfortable.
Lizzie glanced to the side to check Herr Vogel wasn’t loitering in the hallway, but it was empty. ‘Sorry to bother you at this hour, Frau Fischer. My sister-in-law had to work late this evening and missed dinner. I wondered if you would be so kind as to let me take her a simple supper on a tray.’
The landlady sprang into action and hurried towards the kitchen, with Lizzie following closely behind. ‘If she would like to come downstairs, I can serve her in the dining room.’
Lizzie dropped her voice as if confiding a great secret. ‘I didn’t want to say with Herr Vogel nearby, but Else has been overcome by a sudden attack of grief. It’s only been a few months since it was confirmed that her husband is dead. I’m sure you understand.’
The landlady paused as she reached the kitchen and lit the lamp. ‘I do indeed. I know only too well how hard it is to lose one’s husband at the hands of such a vicious enemy.’
An ominous shiver ran through Lizzie when she caught the expression on Frau Fischer’s face.
She had thought she was a harmless woman, merely buffeted on the violent tides of this conflict like so many civilians.
Now, after seeing Herr Vogel emerge from her room, she suddenly doubted her former assessment.
Her gut had told her not to trust the lodger from the beginning.
What was he doing in the landlady’s parlour at night?
Lizzie accepted the small tray with a modest supper of bread, cheese and a cup of weak tea and took it upstairs, her mind turning over the curious events of the evening.
She must warn Hannah to tread carefully around Frau Fischer, too.
Lizzie thought of the fallen thread on the floor when she returned from the convent that afternoon, and she remembered how the landlady had let herself into Herr Vogel’s room when she had broken in to search it.
Was there more to Frau Fischer than a hardworking widow, doing what she must to provide for her child and survive the war?
The attic was in darkness apart from a dim light from the lamp on her bedside table.
The landlady had warned them to keep the lights low at night to comply with the blackout.
Lizzie hadn’t needed to be told twice—after living through the Blitz in London—she was only too aware of how dangerous it was to sleep in an attic that the Allies could bomb at any time.
Lizzie laid the tray down and turned to see Hannah curled up on the bed, fast asleep and breathing softly.
She covered her with a blanket and thought of the lovely, handsome Henry who had been so full of life, and how he would never be her brother-in-law now.
They would not have the wonderful double wedding after the war that they had all fantasised about when they were together in London.
Lizzie yawned as she climbed into bed. It had been a long and emotional day, and in the morning, she was due to start her volunteering work at the orphanage.
The hum of aircraft hovered overhead, and the windows rattled in the wind as Lizzie lay there, thinking about Jack and Henry.
Two brothers who gave everything to fight the evil gripping the world, and one who would never come home.
Lizzie prayed Jack was safe and well, and that they would be reunited soon.
In ten minutes, she too was fast asleep in her narrow bed in Berlin.