Page 65 of The Girl with a Secret
His face darkened with anger, but when he spoke, he sounded grieved. “We’ve?” he repeated. “You really do feel you are part of this country now?”
“Why shouldn’t I?” Rosa returned with an uptilt of her chin. “Why should I have any loyalty to Germany, Ernst? Great Britain has been wonderful to me—welcoming, with so much opportunity, prosperity. My life here is far better than it ever was back in Germany.”
He shook his head slowly. “I had no idea… it would be like this,” he said slowly. “I believed everything they told me, back in Berlin.”
“And now you are beginning to question it?” Rosa asked, finding she was genuinely curious.
“Yes.” His voice was bleak. “Hitler… he has too much power. He wants the whole world, and I fear he will destroy Germany in trying to obtain it. The Soviet Union… there have already been grave losses there, far graver I think than even this country knows. And he simply won’t stop. I know he won’t.”
Rosa filed away that titbit to tell Pennell later as she kept her expression softly concerned. “I’m sorry, Ernst,” she said. “For you. But I cannot be sorry that Germany is losing the war. They will lose it,” she added, keeping her voice strong but sympathetic. “You must see that.”
Ernst didn’t reply for a moment, his head bent, a lock of blond hair falling across his forehead.
“Yes,” he said at last, his voice heavy. “I see that.”
CHAPTER 26
AUGUST 1941—COCKFOSTERS CAMP
Rosa hadn’t known what to expect in the aftermath of her evening with Ernst, but in the end, it felt as if nothing much had changed, and her work at the camp went on as before. She’d debriefed with Lieutenant Pennell, recounting almost all of the conversation, leaving out only what she’d asked Ernst about Kristallnacht; she decided that it hadn’t been relevant, and, in truth, she wasn’t willing to share those details.
“Interesting, about the losses in Russia,” he’d mused. “It sounds as if all the Jerries are losing their mettle! Good work, Miss Herzelfeld. You may return to your post.”
And that, it seemed, was that.
Rosa hadn’t been expecting heaps of praise from her superior for what she’d done, but she still felt strangely deflated by the whole bizarre episode. She’d said goodbye to Ernst with a pang in her heart, but also relief she’d never have to see him again. He’d caught her fingers as if to kiss their tips, but Rosa had pulled her hand away before he could and walked away quickly. The emotional overload of having Peter say he loved her only to back away, and then learning about Ernst, never mind actuallyseeinghim… it had all been incredibly overwhelming. She’d had an urge to pull the cover over her head and sleep for a week,but that simply wasn’t possible. Transcripts had to be translated, and her shifts went on without a pause or a beat.
Rosa did her best to get back into the routine of work, but she often felt too shaky and jumbled up inside to concentrate. Every time she picked up a transcript, she wondered if it would be one of Ernst. Had he given up the codes? Had the whole surreal ruse actuallyworked?
As far as she could tell, she never translated one of his transcripts, and she wondered if that was on purpose. Perhaps they didn’t want her getting too involved, too invested. She’d reviewed her conversation with him in the booth at that club endlessly, trying to untangle its confused threads, her own complicated feelings. She found she couldn’t decide if Ernst was the monster Peter seemed to think he, along with all Nazis, was, or just a man who had been born and bred into a hateful way of looking at the world, essentially a victim of his own circumstances… and yet what were circumstances, but a reason to understand, rather than an excuse or justification? And what was anyone, she reflected, but the sum of their choices? And yet each new day provided an opportunity to make a different choice, abetterone…
It was a thought which gave her both peace and hope.
A week after her tumultuous evening at the 400 Club, Rosa finally learned the fate of Ernst… and from Peter, of all people. He came and found her, after work, when she was having a cup of tea with Sally and a few of the other translators in the kitchen.
“Rosa.” His voice was quiet, his tone somber. Rosa had not seen or spoken to him since their conversation in the garden, and she’d felt the loss keenly. She’d wondered if he’d been keeping his distance on purpose, and feared that he had. She hadn’t possessed the courage to seek him out. Now, looking at his serious face, she felt a wave of dread. Whatever he wanted tosay to her, it didn’t seem as if it would be something she wanted to hear.
“Peter.” She glanced at the other girls at the table, who were all looking avidly curious, their glances darting between her and Peter.
“Is there somewhere we could speak in private?” he asked, and then managed a small, wry smile for her companions. “I apologize, ladies.”
“Oh, don’t mind us,” Sally assured him with a wink. “We’ll gladly make ourselves scarce, won’t we, girls? Especially if there’s love in the air!” She giggled, and her friends followed suit. Color surged into Rosa’s face.
“That’s not necessary,” Rosa said, standing up quickly. Whatever Peter did have to say to her, she didn’t think it was a conversation she wanted to have in the kitchen. “Why don’t we go for a walk?” she suggested. “It’s a nice evening.”
He gave a brief nod. “All right.”
Neither of them spoke as they headed out of the kitchen, the other girls tracking them with their curious gazes, before bursting into giggles as they turned the corner.
“Sorry about that,” Rosa said once they were outside, in the dusky evening. “Sally has a bit of an obsession with the cinema. She thinks life is like a romantic film.”
“Maybe it should be,” Peter replied, smiling a little.
His remark gave Rosa hope, but she still felt wary, bracing herself for whatever came next.
They began to walk down one of the meandering paths through the estate’s parkland, the evening air as soft as silk, the sky striated with clouds of lavender and orange. After a few moments, Rosa summoned the courage to speak. “What is it you wanted to say to me, Peter?” she asked quietly.
“I know about Weber.” He stopped mid-stroll and turned to face her. “About him being here, I mean. He was here, that is,but he’s left now, gone to another camp. But I know about him seeing you.”
