Page 13 of Winter's End
Eyes wide, breathing hard, Evi ducked behind the row of wash machines.What if they had seen her watching?
Her glance darted to the restroom door, a full twenty feet away, then to a door marked, ‘employees only’ not much closer to her. Paralyzed, debating whether to run or not, she heard the slamming of doors and a motor starting up and the screech of auto tearing away.
In the silence that followed, she felt her heartbeat slow. She huddled against a washer, unable to move until she heard the sounds of people gathering.
Slowly, she brought herself to her feet, peered over the washer, moved slowly toward the doorway. She saw a small crowd murmuring over the downed shop keeper, who lay pale and still on the sidewalk.
She could pick out the occasional word –politie… ambulance– but as she moved close enough to see blood pooling at the curb, she knew with grim certainty that it was far too late for either.
ZOE
It was a two-hour trip from Haarlem to Enschede, and never a guarantee that a bus or a train would run as scheduled. But she hadbeen promising her parents for months that she would try to come home for a visit, and with the petkliniekclosed on Sundays, and no pressing work to do for the Resistance, Zoe thought perhaps this was the day to make the effort.
She sat, sipping tea, in the only comfortable chair in her flat, an old broad-backed armchair covered in flowered chintz that Lotte Strobel had helped her lug up the stairs when she’d moved into the tiny studio.
“We have no need for it on the barge,” Lotte had assured her. “It is old, but I think you will find it comfortable – and you will do us a kindness to take some of these extra dishes and cooking pots that have plenty of life left in them.”
It was one of the things that had most surprised her when she had taken the job in Haarlem – the solidarity of the Resistance community, the way they looked after each other with the same intensity that they poured into fighting the Nazi scourge.
She took the last few sips of her tea and decided that yes, she would try to get to Enschede and get back to Haarlem before curfew.
She packed a bottle of water, a hard roll with a bit of gouda cheese – her reward for standing two hours in line with her ration card – into a canvas shoulder bag along with a photo of her with a beautiful English Spaniel, gifted to her by the Spaniel’s owner in lieu of payment.
Of late, some of the smarter women in Amsterdam had begun wearing trousers, Zoe knew. She wished she had a pair now against the cold. But she put on warm stockings and her trusty grey coat over a well-worn sweater and skirt, wrapped a red wool scarf around her neck, and headed out for the walk to the bus station.
...
In the depot, four SS guards with bored expressions surveyed the comings and goings. But the rifles at their sides sent a chilling message, and most passengers kept their heads down as if they had no other business but to study the octagonal pattern of the grimy, black andwhite-tiled floor. But to her relief, there was a bus to Enschede scheduled to leave in thirty minutes.
Zoe paid for her ticket and boarded the bus, surprised to find it nearly full. Scanning the rows of seats, she found one toward the back, next to a middle-aged woman who edged closer to the window and smiled at her as she sat.
“Do you have enough room?” the woman asked.
“Oh, yes, thank you. This is fine,” Zoe stuffed her bag underneath the seat in front of her.
“Do you live in Enschede?”
Zoe turned. “No. I am going to visit with my parents.”
“How nice!” the woman exclaimed. “A pretty girl and a devoted daughter. Your parents must be proud.”
Zoe smiled.
“You live in Haarlem, then…”
“Yes. I do.”
“My name is Fiona. It’s a Scottish name. My father was Scottish.”
Zoe nodded. “Zoe.”
“I came to Haarlem yesterday from Gronau to visit my sister,” Fiona said. “It’s difficult to live here, is it not – what with power only two hours a day?”
Gronau was in Germany, just over the border, where there was far less rationing, Zoe guessed. She looked straight ahead. “It is.”
“Not that there is much to cook here, in any case.”
What was she to say to that?
