Page 85 of Winter's End
“Good evening, Mother…Father…”
“There are leftovers in the kitchen,” her mother said mildly. “We missed you, Mila.”
“Thank you. I am not very hungry. Father, I hope you do not mind that I took the Daimler. I had some errands…”
Her father peered at her, then nodded stiffly. “Urgent errands, I expect.”
Mila shrugged.
“There was a telephone call for you from Franz Becker. You remember theObersturmfuhrer?He wanted to know if you received the Deitrich recording he went to great lengths to procure for you.”
Mila swallowed her distaste. “I did, father. Please thank him for me when you speak to him next.”
“I will not,” he said, holding a spoon over his ice cream. “You will be courteous enough to telephone him yourself and convey your thanks. You can reach him at his headquarters in theStadsplein.”
“All right, Father,” she worked to keep her voice neutral. “But I am quite tired. If there is nothing else –”
“But there is.”
Mila waited.
Her father cut a swath through the mound of ice cream. “It was reported to me that you have been seen more than once near a certain plumbing office near the Bloemendaal.”
She worked to keep from looking startled.Was she being followed?
A protracted pause. “Is there water leaking somewhere in your wing of the house, Mila?”
“No, Father.”
He reached for a bowl of chocolate sauce. “Then I can think of no reason for you to be conversing with a plumber,” he said, pouring thesauce over his dessert in a thin but even stream. “Especially a plumber who is suspected of having ties to the Resistance.”
...
She had escaped to her bedroom and kicked off her shoes when a knock sounded at her door.
“I have brought you a sandwich,” Reit said. “And I took Hondje for a walk before supper.”
Mila smiled at the woman of indeterminate age who had been with the family for as far back as she could remember. “You are so good to us, Reit..Heel erg bedankt. I am grateful.”
She watched the maid retreat, locked the bedroom door behind her, and settled in the confines of her closet. Once, twice, she keyed in the digits, but there was no response from Pieter.
It was late, she told herself. He could be anywhere…
She began undressing, slowly, deliberately. But her heart was racing nonetheless.
EVI
Despite the late hour,MevrouwBeekhof insisted on preparing a light supper for Evi. She disappeared into the kitchen, and came back moments later, her arms full and her expression questioning,
At the wooden dining room table, she handed Evi a plate containing a slab of bread, a small chunk of Gouda cheese, and a dollop of canned tomatoes.
Evi looked around the table. A single lantern burned on the sideboard, casting odd shadows on their faces…MeneerBeekhof, with whom she had rarely exchanged a word, dark-haired, bearded, imposing…Willem, who seemed to be growing inches by the day, awkward, fidgeting in his seat…Mevrouw, patient and waiting…and Jacob, dear Jacob, his brows knit together, leaning forward, searching her face.
Taking a breath, halting now and then to force back tears, Evi told her story – the baby Mam had rescued from a cave, her insistence on taking him to safety…the Germans boarding the barge, Mam falling into the sea…and finally Alette, at the marketplace in Vlaardingen, who had taken her in and helped her to contact her friends.
“Perhaps I should not have come here,” she finished, looking down at her lap. But in the next moment, to her surprise, she feltMeneerBeekhof’s big hand close over hers, sawMevrouwrise and come around the table.
Willem sat, his blue eyes wide, as his mother reached to embrace her, and Jacob, a white-knuckled fist to his mouth, glared silently, fire in his eyes.
