Page 5 of Love in the Shadows

They had dined at an acquaintance of her husband’s house just outside Nuremberg the previous evening. The air there had been thick with dust and smoke and sickening odours emanating from the sites that had been raised to the ground. Johanna had shared a damp mattress with Astrid, and both had tossed and turned until dawn. She still felt deeply troubled by the destruction of the historic buildings that had once made the city great. It was much worse there than in Berlin and not at all what the Das Reich newspaper had told them.

How cosseted they had been.

They passed the sign that read Erstein.

“We will have to make a detour, Frau Neumann,” the driver said. He pulled over to the side of the road to allow the vehicles approaching to pass.

Her insides trembled as the convoy of trucks dominated the main road. One after another after another, and then tanks that made the road vibrate. The constant drone left her with a strong sense of foreboding and a pounding headache. She turned to check that the car carrying her daughter and Nanny Hilda were still close behind. A small gap in the convoy allowed the driver to set off again, and he took a turn off the main route. Some buildings lay in ruins, and in places rubble blocked the pavements and narrowed the road. It smelled like Nuremberg, and yet the atmosphere was quieter, weightier.

They passed a queue of people waiting outside a bakery: women carried crying babies, children held hands, and all were dressed in ragged clothes that were too big for them. They saw her car and raised their right arm in salute. She would have expected them to appear angry, but they looked resigned, broken, lost. Who wouldn’t be under these circumstances?

She’d heard about the German dissenters in Berlin who’d been punished, imprisoned, shot even, but she hadn’t seen any alleged atrocities first hand, and she wasn’t quite sure what to make of the scene here. Where were the French people who willingly worked for the Reich? Where were the flags flying for her beloved Germany? Her heart thudded harder and heavier for the plight of the children. And yet, this was war. What else did she expect?

The level of devastation the British and American forces had inflicted on her homeland had been evidence enough that the information they’d been fed by the Nazi regime had been played down. But she hadn’t seen anything on their journey as divested of life as in Erstein. She would have preferred that Astrid hadn’t been subjected to the harsh reality. Astrid would never be able to unsee this terrible sight. What kind of impression was that for a nine-year-old to take with them through their life? Even Johanna had been better protected during the previous war.

Why had Gerhard forced this on them? She felt as bitter towards him now as she had when he’d sent their son away, and that wasn’t going to help their reunion after the years of separation.

As they drove out of the town and into the countryside, she was able to breathe more easily. Then her hands became clammy and started to tremble. She rubbed her palms together and took a few deep breaths to calm herself, repeating the mantra that Gerhard had told her.

You will be safe here.

The driver turned the car off the main road and drove down what appeared to be a farm track, and a swathe of relief brought some small comfort. Then she saw the four-storey house on the left-hand side of the driveway and the small cottage across the yard on the right. As aesthetically interesting as the buildings were, her only thought was that they should have stayed in Berlin.

3.

FABIENNE WATCHED THROUGH THE living room window as two cars approached the house. She rubbed at the tight feeling in her chest, a constant reminder of the oppression, and felt the air lock in her lungs.

“We will soon find out what this new one brings,” Mamie said.

“I have a job to do before they get too settled.” Fabienne indicated with her eyes towards the house.

“Fais attention, ma chérie.”

“Toujours, Mamie.”

Nancy swiftly dodged out of Fabienne’s way as Fabienne shot through the living room doorway and into the kitchen. She held up a paper flower and smiled. “I made this for you. I used the red berries from the hedges to colour the petals and ash for the centre.”

Fabienne ruffled her hair. No matter how angry she was with everything else, she couldn’t take it out on Nancy. She sighed and studied the handmade flower. “It’s very pretty.”

“It’s for good luck. You must keep it with you.”

Fabienne tucked it into the breast pocket of her shirt. “It can stay close to my heart. How about that?”

Nancy stared up at her. “Will you come and play with me?” she asked, flickering her eyelashes.

Fabienne’s heart ached for her young cousin. Nancy wasn’t the only war child to become orphaned, but that didn’t make it any easier for Fabienne to accept. Nancy should be outside with friends of her own age, running around and climbing trees, getting scratched by brambles while picking berries from the hedgerows, not walking in fear of her own shadow.

Fabienne tugged her close and held her tightly. “I promise to do a jigsaw puzzle with you after tea. Right now, I have other things I need to do.” She eased out of the embrace and ruffled Nancy’s hair again, then tapped her lightly on the nose. “Can you look after Mamie for me?”

Nancy nodded. “Is she going to talk to ces putains de Boches?”

Fabienne chuckled. “Hey, no swearing, young lady, even if you are right. And remember to speak German when you are around them or they won’t like it.”

“I don’t care,” Nancy said.

Fabienne sighed. “I know, me neither, but we don’t want to get into trouble.” She tucked a strand of hair behind Nancy’s ear. “Mamie and I will go and cook for them later. Maybe you can help by washing some potatoes for our dinner? Hmm, what do you think?”

Nancy scrunched up her nose. “Can I draw a picture instead?”

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