Page 42 of Love in the Shadows

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Johanna opened her bedroom window overlooking the front drive and sipped wine. The cool, damp air was preferable to enduring their guests as they discussed “matters of utmost importance” that had arisen since receiving a third telegram that evening.

The constant crackle of shots being fired in the distance would undoubtedly have something to do with the bridge that had been destroyed and the train that had been stopped from crossing into Germany as a result.

“Most inconvenient,” Fischer had said to Gerhard, but the way he had looked at her husband had conveyed a more sinister message.

Whatever they needed to say, they weren’t going to talk about it in front of her, and she’d delighted in being able to leave them. She hadn’t wanted to know the details. She hadn’t wanted to listen to them talk about nothing of significance just because she was there. And she didn’t want to play the piano ever again for their amusement.

She wanted to go home.

She lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, dreaming about Berlin. Even before she’d left, Berlin hadn’t been as she’d known it as a child. Her beloved city was going to be unrecognisable by the time she went back. But it was still the place she considered home. God, what a bloody mess it all was. Poor Astrid, and God help Ralf. She’d had too much to drink, and these rambling thoughts about her homeland weren’t helping her feel any more amenable to either her husband or his guests. She looked across to the cottage and hoped that Nancy was faring better, sure that Fraulein Brun would have taken good care of her. Lakritze ambled across the yard.

She went down the stairs and out the front door and called to him. He scooted to the side of the house, heading towards the back garden. She took a few strides, following him, then stopped. What was the point in chasing him. He would come back in when he was ready. She stood outside the dining room window and continued to smoke. The officers’ driver would arrive soon, and then they would be gone. She blew out a stream of smoke, her head woozy from the wine.

She blinked as a shape moved along the main drive. A trick of her imagination maybe? She put out the cigarette and went to the side of the fountain, closer, to get a better look. The movement was unsteady, or perhaps it was she who was drunk. The silhouette became better defined against the openness of the fields before the cottage. It was Fraulein Brun.

The men’s voices became louder through the front door.

Johanna ran across the yard, her heart racing.

Fraulein Brun stared at her with wide eyes, her face dirty, and tear stains marking her cheeks.

Johanna grabbed her arm, and she moaned and pulled away. “You must get inside. The officers are leaving. If they catch you…”

She didn’t have time to finish the sentence. Fraulein Brun looked as though she was going to pass out. Johanna caught hold of her and led her quickly to the cottage door. They arrived just as the German officers’ car turned off the main road and started towards the house.

18.

FABIENNE WINCED AT THE blinding pain in her arm as Frau Neumann helped her to the cottage door. She caught the headlights approaching from the road and pushed Johanna closer to the line of the building, holding her still until the vehicle veered left into the driveway of the house. The car came to a stop in the light that spilled out from the front door onto the gravel. Even though she knew it would be hard for them to be seen, her heart pounded as hard as it had done during the rescue mission. Johanna breathed heavily at her side.

The sound of male voices and heels clicking was their cue to move. Fabienne opened the door enough for them to slip inside, and eased the door closed behind them. She went to the window and peeked through the heavy curtains. The car passed around the fountain in the driveway and started back towards the main road.

The front door closed.

She leaned against the wall, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply until her heart slowed. When she opened them, even in the low, lamp light, she could see Frau Neumann was wide-eyed and pale-faced. “What?” she said, in a firmer tone than was warranted since the kommandant’s wife had potentially saved her life. She tried to move, and her legs drained of energy. The fire in her arm flared. Her vision clouded. The room spun.

“You’re bleeding.”

Fabienne shook her head and staggered to regain her balance. “You must go.”

Even if she could tell Frau Neumann about the mission, she wouldn’t be able to find the words to describe the terrifying scene: women screaming, children crying, whistles sounding, machine guns mowing down people like blades of grass, more screaming, and then the haunting silence. It would have been a hundred times worse without the mist, or if the train had made it to the station and the Germans had been able to get there sooner. The train having stopped short of the station had been an error that had served the Resistance and the prisoners well. How many would survive? Only time would tell.

Frau Neumann helped her to the couch to sit.

Fabienne lowered her head between her knees to stave off the nausea and dizziness. The pain in her arm soared and, in her attempt to stifle a cry, she whimpered.

Frau Neumann eased her back and started to unbutton her coat. She wanted to resist but her body wouldn’t comply. The coat was slipped from her shoulders, and the pain surged. She moaned and tried to hold her arm, but her hand was raw from trying to dig the earth, her fingers swollen and tight. Frau Neumann lifted her hand gently and inspected it slowly. Fabienne was compelled to stare at her, locked into the compassion in Frau Neumann’s eyes and the tenderness of her touch. She felt the sadness rising from deep inside, the loss and grief of so many people, and swallowed hard to stem the tears building behind her eyes.

“Do you have sulfa powder and cloths so I can dress your wounds?”

Fabienne indicated to the front door. “I can sort myself out. You need to get back to the kommandant. He will be waiting for you.”

“Gerhard has plenty to occupy him for the rest of the night, don’t you think?”

Fabienne lowered her head.

“Your injuries are not from taking your cousin to the doctor, which would have happened more than three hours ago had it happened at all.”

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