Page 59 of The Girl with a Secret
Peter’s forehead creased, his mouth pulled down into a frown. “Rosa, what are you saying?”
She expelled a shaky breath, wiping her now-damp palms along her skirt. “I’m saying I was complicit in some of my father’s choices,” she stated, surprised at the sudden rush of relief she felt, to finally be fully honest. “I didn’t mean to be, and I certainly didn’twantto be. When he first started treating Nazi officers… well, I don’t remember exactly when, but I must have been fifteen or so. He became known as someone with something of a magic touch—for venereal diseases, as you’ve said before.” She grimaced slightly. “A rather sordid element, Iknow, but the men appreciated his treatment, and they found him… amusing, I suppose. Charming. They’d been coming to our house for discreet treatment, and it sort of started from that. They’d stay for a drink, and then they were joined by others. This was before the race laws, you understand. Before Jews were truly vilified.”
Peter’s lips tightened but he didn’t say anything, just gave a terse nod to indicate she should continue.
“I didn’t have anything to do with it, not at first, and I didn’t want to. The men seemed so… loud to me, sobig. And my mother acted as hostess to begin with.” She stopped, conscious of Peter’s frown deepening, as well as apprehensive about telling any more of the story.
“But then?” he prompted after a moment, and she could not tell anything from his tone.
“But then my mother started claiming she had a headache, and could not act as hostess, so my father asked me.” She glanced away, steeling herself to say more. “I think the first time I must have been sixteen or seventeen. Young, but old enough to know better, perhaps, especially as things had become more dangerous to Jews. There was a sense, every evening, that you weren’t quite sure what might happen. Whether one of the officers would suddenly stop laughing and point his pistol at you instead.” She shivered, remembering that feeling of tension and fear, like everything in her had been pulled tight. By the end of every night, she’d been trembling with exhaustion, desperate not to do it again.
Until she’d met Ernst…
She swallowed, staring down at the ground. “I admit, there were times when I enjoyed dressing up, feeling grownup and elegant. Sometimes I enjoyed the attention the officers gave me—looking back, I think they thought it all one big joke. ‘Look at us, drinking a Jew’s schnapps and flirting with his daughter!Playing his piano and there’s not a damned thing he can do about any of it!’” Her voice had become hard without her realizing. “It suited my father, though, because while they came and while he treated them, we were sheltered from the sorts of things you saw—camps, arrests, even just being bothered in the street. It was like we had a special shield around us.”
She glanced up at him again; his face was expressionless, which worried her, and she was so very tempted to not say the rest. But, no. Now was the time for truth, for honesty. No matter what happened. No matter how much it hurt.
“I admit, I was glad about that, as well, even though it alienated us from our Jewish friends. We existed in a bubble—it was lonely, but it was safe. Mostly, anyway.” Although, in the end, that sense of safety had been an illusion, just like Ernst’s affection.
“How difficult it must have been for you,” Peter remarked, his tone terribly flat, and Rosa couldn’t help but recoil.
“I’m not excusinganyof it, Peter,” she protested, her voice catching. “I’m simply telling you the truth. Yes, my father treated Nazis for venereal diseases. In that, he had no choice. If he had not treated them, he would likely have been arrested. As for entertaining them… did he have a choice then? Yes, perhaps. And did I? Again,perhaps. I could have refused my father, I suppose, and stayed hidden upstairs. The officers enjoying his hospitality would have never known I existed. Sometimes I do wish that I had done that.” She drew a shaky breath, recalling the many times she’d thought such a thing, wished for it desperately, while knowing such regret was useless. “But I was young, impressionable,” she continued. “I wanted to please my father, and yes, I confess, have the attention of those officers. Some of them, anyway.” One in particular.
Peter’s mouth twisted. “How could you resist the charm of a Nazi officer?”
“I know it sounds terrible,” she replied in a low voice, “but surely you’ve encountered some of the prisoners here?” She knew she was on shaky ground; they weren’t meant to talk about what they did at the camp, but with his knowledge of German, Peter had to be involved with the prisoners in some way. Judging by the way he gave a curt nod, she was right. “Some of them are vicious and brutal,” she continued, “but others… they’re justmen.” She’d heard their voices coming through the transcripts—the fear for their wives, the affection for their children, their wry sense of humor, or their enjoyment of the simple pleasure of a sunset or a stein of beer. They weren’tallmonsters, even if they had certainly been a part of incredibly monstrous things.
“They’re not justmen, Rosa,” Peter replied harshly, his whole face twisting into a ferocious scowl. “Or at least not men like me, like those I admire or accept or simply understand. They areevil. They chose to do the most evil, heinous things imaginable, to innocent lives. Yes, they are fellow human beings, with the natural desires and weaknesses of any such creature—but they do not deserve either my pity or my respect.”
Rosa swallowed hard. She knew he was right, and yet… “Peter…” she began helplessly.
“How could you think otherwise?” he demanded, and she stared at him miserably, having no answer. How on earth could she now tell him about Ernst?
“Hey, Herzelfeld!”
Startled, Rosa whirled away from Peter’s glare, squinting to see a fellow translator standing a few dozen yards away. How much had she heard?
“Yes?” Rosa called, her voice wavering.
“You’re wanted in the Blue Room ASAP. Something important, it seems.”
Rosa’s heart, already sore and wounded, did a freefall of fear.What now?she thought in dread. She glanced at Peter, who simply shrugged.
“You need to go. We’ll talk later.”
“Peter—”
“Herzelfeld, you’re needednow.”
Rosa hurried back to the house, her heart like a stone inside her.
CHAPTER 24
“Ah, Miss Herzelfeld. Please sit down.”
Rosa lowered herself onto the chair in front of Colonel Kendrick’s desk, just as she’d done nearly three months ago. Now she wasn’t facing the kindly but shrewd colonel, however, but his second-in-command, Lieutenant Richard Pennell. Colonel Kendrick had been absent from the Cockfosters Camp almost since Rosa had first seen him; all that was known was that he was on an important mission up north. Rumors had swirled around the camp, that Intelligence had managed to snag a high-ranking SS officer Kendrick was now interrogating, but no one knew who it was.
“Lieutenant Pennell,” Rosa murmured, clasping her hands together tightly in her lap. Her heart ached with grief for Peter and the conversation she knew they still needed to have, but she forced herself to push it down as she focused on the man in front of her. What could he possibly want?
