‘Get in!’ she ordered, seeing one of the men still standing in the room as she struggled to pin her hair up, trying to change her appearance.
‘I can’t fit. I’m going under the bed,’ he muttered.
She forgot her shaking hands as she took charge.
‘This is my home and I make the rules,’ she ordered, taking a doll from the cot, also a gift from her mother-in-law, and wrapping it in a blanket. ‘Get in the closet or walk out my front door and meet your fate.’
The man stared back at her but she held her ground, and seconds later she was pushing on the door to shut them all in, him included.
Rose took a deep breath and pushed the crib closer to their hiding spot. She could do this. All that determination and grit she’d had about doing something to help, well, this was her chance. She’d been in mourning long enough. She refused to look down at her stomach, her slightly rounded belly not big enough for anyone else to notice she was pregnant. She clutched the pretend baby, hoping whatever Nazi soldiers came looking fell for her ruse.
She forced herself to breathe normally as she started down the stairs. Each step felt heavy, her footfalls loud to her own ears. And then came the knock she’d been expecting. She heard loud noises and wondered what was happening, but she clutched the doll tight and refused to give in to any panic. Fear pulsed through her as she wondered if there would be retributions for the entire village for what she’d done. They wouldn’t give up until they found the perpetrator.
Rose hurried the last two steps and ran to the door, pulling it open then quickly stepping back and patting her pretend baby. She held it close, making shushing noises at the same time.
Tears formed in her eyes and she didn’t blink them away. She was pretending to be a scared mother comforting her child, which meant there was nothing wrong with crying.
‘We’re looking for French cowards,’ the tall German officer said, in such good French she could hardly believe it. ‘Men who think they are still soldiers. Step aside.’
She stared at him, wide-eyed, taking a few steps back. If he hadn’t been the enemy she would have thought how handsome he was, but there was nothing about the cold blue eyes of the German that she wanted to admire. He was like a walking advertisement for Hitler’s perfect Aryan race.
‘There are no men here,’ she said back, keeping her eyes downcast. ‘I’m just trying to get my baby to sleep. Look around all you like.’
The officer waved his hand and she turned and went back up the stairs.
‘Shh, my darling. Shhh,’ she said, loud enough for the men to hear.
The German soldiers came into the house like bulls, knocking things over as if they took pleasure in ruining her home. She shut her eyes at a loud bang, wondered what they’d broken, but then realised that she actually didn’t care. They could trash her house all they liked, but she wasn’t letting them find those soldiers.
Heavy footfalls alerted her to the fact that someone, or more than one someone, was coming up her staircase. She moved into the small space between the crib and the closet, rocking her baby and holding it up to press her lips to its little doll head.
‘Please, let me put my baby to bed,’ she pleaded. ‘There is nobody else in this house. Nobody but my child and I.’
‘We’ll see,’ said the officer who’d been the one to knock on her door. ‘Check under the bed!’
She knew German, and when he issued the command in his native tongue she understood immediately.
Rose held her breath, hoping one of the men hadn’t decided while she was downstairs to change his position. She watched as the officer received a headshake from one of his soldiers. She kept jiggling the baby but stayed silent, not wanting to say the wrong thing or aggravate the situation. She also didn’t want to make too much of a fuss of her ‘baby’ and have any of the men come too close.
Rose waited, the room full of strangers. She’d been worried about the hidden men sneezing or coughing or doing something to give themselves away, but now, staring at the Germans, she was worried about a whole lot more than that. She was a woman all alone, with the enemy.
She started to cry, and it didn’t take any effort to summon the tears.
‘Please don’t hurt me,’ she pleaded. ‘Please, just let me put my baby to bed. You can take anything you like.’
The officer laughed at her and the other men all joined in. ‘We are the conquerors. You can hate us all you like, and we will take whatever we want, with or without your permission.’
She started to tremble, looking down and nodding. She was scared. Scared of being raped, of them finding out her baby was nothing more than a doll, of being tortured. But mostly she was scared of the men she’d tried to save dying on her watch.
Help me, Peter. She silently pleaded. Please, help me.
‘Take whatever you want, fill your pockets with food,’ the German officer ordered.
There was still noise downstairs, and within minutes that noise doubled as the beat of the men’s shoes thumped down the stairs and joined those below.
Rose waited, staying so still she could barely breathe. She waited until the noises stopped. Until the German voices were gone, until there was a final bang as the door shut. And then she dropped her baby to the ground, a silent scream straining in her throat.
The room started to spin, everything went black with bright white dots flashing into her vision. Rose saw the ground coming up to her, as if the floor was ready and waiting to swallow her, and there was nothing she could do to stop from falling.
‘Help her!’
She heard the frantic, deep whisper as arms caught her and broke her fall, just as everything went cold, dark and silent.
Rose woke to the crackle of a fire, bathed in warmth as she stretched, eyes still shut tight. She could smell something good cooking, and she wondered what Maria was making for dinner.
She opened her eyes, faltered as she wondered where she was, whom the low voices belonged to that she could hear. And then it all came crashing back to her; what had happened, what she’d been . . .
‘No!’ she gasped. Where were the men? Had they been found? Killed? She remembered falling but once the room had gone black, she didn’t know what had happened.
‘Shhh.’
Rose tried to jump up but her legs buckled. Where was she?
‘We don’t even know your name.’ A woman’s voice made her turn. She regained her balance, stood more slowly and looked around the room.
The men were sitting there, in clothing that looked so familiar. It was . . . She smiled and reached her hand out to touch the wall, steadying herself. It was Peter’s. They were all wearing clothing that belonged to her Peter.
‘I hope you don’t mind,’ the woman said, smiling at her and making her way across the room. She’d been in the kitchen, where the delicious smell was coming from, and the men were all at the table.
‘I, I’m sorry, who are you?’ Rose asked, glancing down at her arm and seeing that it had been properly bandaged. It gave off not so much a burning, searing pain now as a deep thudding one.
‘I saw what happened earlier,’ the woman said. ‘You were very brave. These men owe you their lives and none of us even know your name.’
Rose nodded, still feeling a bit wobbly. ‘I’m Rose,’ she said.
‘Josephine,’ the woman said, coming closer and touching her arm, her smile warm. ‘I took the bullet out and cleaned the wound. You’ll need to keep the bandage on for a while.’
Rose stared at her arm and then back at Josephine. ‘Thank you.’
‘We’re all impressed by your bravery.’ She laughed. ‘Aren’t we? This woman took a bullet for you and managed to pull one over on the Germans.’
A collective chuckle went up around the table and Rose felt her heartbeat slow, suddenly not so nervous about so many strangers being in her house.
‘I did what anyone would do.’
‘No,’ Josephine said. ‘You didn’t. Because most people were hidin
g in their houses with the curtains pulled. You were the one running through the forest and then pretending you had a baby.’
Rose nodded. She didn’t think she was anything special, but she appreciated this woman’s kind words. ‘When you have nothing to lose, it makes you brave. Or maybe just stupid.’
‘Brave it is then,’ Josephine said. ‘And even when we don’t think so, we always have something to lose.’
Rose didn’t reply, but when one of the men pulled out a chair for her, she graciously took it. She could do with the seat.
‘Thank you.’
‘You’ll need something to eat to get your strength up. It’s only soup. There wasn’t a lot left after those damn Germans raided the place.’
Rose nodded. ‘Do you live near here?’
Josephine sat down when a chair was vacated for her, too. ‘Yes. I’m staying in one of your neighbours’ homes.’
‘We wanted to say thank you,’ one of the men said, and cleared his throat. ‘What you did for us today, well, we owe you our lives.’
Rose shook her head. ‘Please, it was nothing.’
‘Your husband will be proud when he hears,’ one of the others said, laughing. ‘He’ll no doubt hardly believe it.’
She tried to smile, but she felt it falter, couldn’t make it stick. ‘My husband, he’s, well . . .’ Her face flushed and a hot feeling rose in her throat, making her want to vomit. Rose took a deep breath. She needed to start saying it, start admitting to what had happened. ‘My husband is dead,’ she said simply.
Two of the men looked down, but one kept her gaze. The same one who’d not wanted to hide in the closet.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said in a low voice. ‘We’ve lost so many men. I’m so sorry for your loss.’
Tears prickled Rose’s eyes and a solitary drop escaped her lashes. ‘Thank you.’
She bent her head and dipped her spoon into her soup, taking a mouthful and forcing it down. Then another and another.
‘We’ve all lost someone we love to this war,’ Josephine said.
‘And how do you keep going?’ Rose whispered.
‘We find something to do to get back at those who’ve taken from us.’
Rose put her spoon down. ‘Is that what you do? You help?’
Josephine gave her a look she couldn’t decipher. ‘Finish your dinner, then I’ll take you upstairs to check your bandage.’
She went to open her mouth and say she felt fine, then stopped herself. There was something in the other woman’s words, the way they were issued as more of an instruction. So she did as she was told as the men started to talk in low voices around her.
Rose watched as Josephine closed the door behind her and came to sit with her on the bed. There was something mysterious about her, even though she’d been nothing but kind and thoughtful all evening. Now, the others were staying quiet downstairs, the lights out and the curtains drawn. It was dangerous having them here at all, but strangely Rose felt comforted by their presence.
‘You asked me a question earlier,’ Josephine said, her voice hushed as if she was worried about them being overheard. ‘Do you truly want to know the answer to it?’
Rose nodded immediately, knowing what she was referring to. ‘Yes.’
‘I know who you are, Rose. You see, I knew of your husband, Peter. I’m so sorry to hear that he’s no longer with us.’
She felt her eyes widen. Is this why Josephine was here, because she knew Peter?
‘How did you know him?’
‘Are you aware of his generous donations?’ Josephine asked. ‘Or the fact that he risked so much to arrange funds and arms deliveries for us?’
‘Yes.’ Rose felt a surge of adrenaline rush through her body, the only time in weeks that she’d smiled without having to force herself to. When the boat he’d been travelling on had gone down, the good he’d done for France was the only thing she’d been able to hold on to. ‘You’re part of the Resistance, aren’t you?’ she whispered, hardly able to believe it.
Josephine’s mouth turned up at the corners. ‘So you’re familiar with us?’ She laughed. ‘Are you also familiar with the fact that we weren’t expecting Peter’s lovely wife to turn up here? He’d promised us this place to use some time ago as a safe house, and when I saw you running in with three men in tow?’ Josephine shook her head, still smiling. ‘Let’s just say that you took me by surprise.’
‘He gave you our house to use?’ Rose exclaimed. ‘How could he do that without telling me?’
‘Same reason we don’t talk to our families or anyone else about what we do. The fewer people involved, the better.’
Rose nodded. ‘So is this a recruitment?’ she asked. ‘You’re telling me this because you want me to help you?’
Josephine folded her arms across her chest. ‘Are you ready to help us?’
‘Yes.’ Rose exhaled the word as if she’d been holding it and waiting to let it go for ever. ‘Yes, I’m ready.’ She wasn’t about to sit around and do nothing when so many good men were out there dying. Fighting for their lives against an evil that she wanted to help snuff out.
‘The reason I didn’t help you earlier when I saw you running is because I’m already hiding men, and I couldn’t risk having my house raided,’ Josephine confessed. ‘We have a submarine arriving tomorrow night and we’ll transport your men with them.’
‘I’m sorry, you what?’ Rose couldn’t believe what she was hearing. ‘A submarine?’
‘We’ve been rescuing downed airmen,’ Josephine said. ‘It’s dangerous work, but if we didn’t do it, they’d be captured by the Germans, tortured and then kept as prisoners – if they weren’t shot after having their toenails pulled out and their fingers cut off, or whatever it is they do to them to extract information, that is.’ She sighed. ‘The submarines will be coming once a month. We need to transport the men to the shore, where they’ll have rowboats waiting. This is our first mission, so we have to cross everything that it goes to plan.’
‘I’ll do it,’ Rose said. ‘Whatever you want from me, I’ll do it.’
‘You’re certain? I’d say this isn’t work for the faint-hearted, but from what I’ve seen of you, that would be an insult.’
‘I’ve already told you, I have nothing to lose.’
She resisted the urge to touch her stomach. She was lying. She did have something to lose, but right now no one needed to know that she was pregnant, and she had no intention of telling anybody, not even Josephine.
‘Welcome to the Resistance.’ Josephine held out her hand and Rose shook it. ‘I have a feeling that we’ll all know your name by the end of this blasted war.’
Rose wasn’t so sure about that. But she did know that she’d do anything she could to help. Anything.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SOPHIA
BERLIN, GERMANY
LATE 1942
‘Alex!’ Sophia frantically whispered. ‘Alex!’
She was exhausted. She’d been shaking the entire way back on the train from her family estate, too scared to close her eyes and see the image of her mother’s lifeless form hanging in front of her. The hatred sluicing through every inch of her, the desperation to seek justice, was the only thing keeping her going. Without it, she’d have collapsed to the ground and wished for death herself. Or perhaps fear of her father would have kept her open-eyed and shaking.
‘Sophia?’
Alex was bleary-eyed, like he’d just woken up. She looked at her bed, saw how rumpled it was. She could hardly expect him to spend every moment hidden, but the fact he’d been lying there while she was gone, the fact that her apartment could have been raided and he could have been found before she’d even made it back . . . she fought a wave of emotion as it tried to choke her.
‘You need to hide. Now,’ she said, her voice wobbling. ‘They . . .’
When she looked into Alex’s eyes, her chin wobbled, and then a wailing sob erupted from deep within her as tears streamed down her cheeks and she fell to
her knees. Alex dropped with her, cradling her and holding her tight to his chest.
‘Shhh, it’s okay. What happened?’ he asked, rocking her as if he were comforting a small child.
Sophia cried and cried, let go of every emotion she’d been holding back since she’d left her family home. Alex kept holding her, mouth to her hair as he stroked her back.
‘Tell me? Why are you back? What’s happened?’
‘My mother,’ she eventually said, her breath coming out in a big shudder. ‘He’s killed her. My father, he . . .’
Alex held her back, looked straight into her eyes. ‘Your father killed her?’
‘She was hiding a family. A Jewish family,’ Sophia explained, wiping at her cheeks and brushing her fingertips across her lashes. ‘I got there and he killed them all. She was hanging with them, with children, strung up by their necks.’ The picture of them all up there, of what she’d watched, what she’d seen, was crippling.
Alex pulled her close again and she hugged him back, but she knew they didn’t have a lot of time. If her father or anyone else suspected that she could be doing the same as her mother, then they could arrive any moment.
‘We need to get rid of any evidence, any trace that you’ve been here.’ It was only now that she thought about Greta and their other servants. Would they be interrogated, too? Would her father actually be foolish enough to presume that they’d had knowledge of the Jewish family? That they’d helped to conceal them? She couldn’t stand the thought of the women she’d known her entire life being questioned and tortured.
‘I’ve been writing a diary,’ he said, jolting her back into the present. ‘I should have told you. I took one of your notebooks.’
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