One evening, she had received in her usual small pile of Resistance mail a note for her to attend one of the Underground’s meetings. It was worded very carefully as an invitation for tea with an old friend, but she knew exactly what it meant.
The next afternoon she arrived at the door the butcher had sent her to years before, and the same woman opened it. Gone were the wafts of cooking smells. The buxom woman of years earlier had lost much weight and looked drawn and pale. But her eyes brightened when she saw Hannah and ushered her into a dark back room. A hush fell on the room as she entered. A small group of freedom fighters was gathered there.
The Resistance leader introduced her to the group. “This is Hannah,” he informed them. “She is here to ensure bicycles arrive in the hands of our agents when they need them.”
The group nodded their hello, and Hannah stood back in a darkened corner to listen as they discussed the latest plot. To keep all of them safe, everyone only knew the barest of information about the plan in case either there was a traitor among them or the Gestapo captured one of them and they were tortured.
It was evident as they descended back into their debate that Hannah’s entrance had stopped them in the midst of an intense discussion.
“They’re rounding up members of CS6 and shooting them,” a despondent-looking member of the group reminded them all. “The Gestapo are watching. It’s dangerous for any of us to do anything right now. Aart was picked up two days ago, and we have no one to ride the latest package out to the location.”
The group continued to have a heated debate, and Hannah felt something bubble up inside her as she listened. She saw her mother knitting hats. She saw Michael Blum battling for his life and Josef being willing to sacrifice his own to save him. She saw Eva’s young face the last time she had seen her and how she’d promised to be brave. Suddenly, something pushed her forward.
“I can do it,” she said, moving into the circle of men gathered there. “I can cycle there.”
A mustached man, Erik, showed his displeasure. “You don’t realize this is hazardous work.”
“I will take my chances,” Hannah responded.
“You are sure?” Henri enquired, looking concerned. “This is very dangerous, Hannah. If they found you, you would be arrested, tortured, maybe killed.”
Hannah swallowed down her fear. “I find that the need far outweighs the cost.”
A flicker of recognition registered in Henri’s eyes, and he nodded.
Hannah continued, “No one is going to question a middle-aged woman on a bicycle. My role in the Resistance has been so small I am confident I am not known to them. Please let me try.”
“What you have to do is very important,” snapped back a willowy man with a day’s worth of beard growth. He looked uneasy about Hannah’s confidence. “If they capture you, you cannot tell anyone about us or this meeting, do you understand?”
Hannah nodded with determination. “I know that, and I’m willing to take this information to my grave.”
Henri shook his head. “I don’t think we have much choice. Our inside agent, known to us as Cuckoo, has received credible information. We have to act fast. Everything is already in place, apart from the carrier.”
The group looked at Hannah as if they were each weighing her up. Then, reluctantly, one by one, they nodded or shrugged their resignation.
Henri beckoned Hannah to the table, where he turned on a light and flattened out a map in front of him, pointing to and then drawing his finger along a route.
“You will meet up with our operatives, who will take the package from you. But you will need to go here first.” He tapped a place on the map. “Ernst’s house is a long way out on the outskirts of Amsterdam. There will be washing on the line to signify it is safe, two pairs of socks, a pair of gray trousers, and one white handkerchief. He will give you the package, which you will hide in a medical bag. You have medical training, right?”
Hannah nodded. “I looked after my ailing mother for many years.”
“Yes, I remember. Good,” he said, nervously fingering his chin. “We can give you papers that stipulate that you have permission to ride the bicycle as a nurse in case you are stopped in and around the city. There is a false bottom in the bag where you can hide the package once you receive it at Ernst’s house. If anyone asks where you are going, you can say you are visiting a patient. You will pick up the package, then you will head to here.” He circled a place along the route in the woods. “There is a cottage there, right on the edge of the town, with three pairs of trousers and two white handkerchiefs on the line.”
You will knock on the door and say the doctor has sent you. If he answers, ‘Doctor Horst?’ you know you are in the right place. Go inside and hand over the package. Wait about fifteen minutes and then leave and come back here. I can’t give you this map, in case you are stopped, so you need to memorize your route.”
Hannah looked carefully at the map and then nodded. “I won’t let you down.”
He covered her hand with his. “I know you won’t. Do you think you can make it in an hour?”
Hannah smiled. “I will be back before the curfew, don’t worry.”
“Then my wife,” he pointed at the woman she had first met years before, who had just entered the room and was drying her hands on a tea towel, “will give you your papers and medical bag.”
Hannah followed the lively woman to the kitchen, where she tipped over a flour container filled with sand into a bowl and pulled out a bundle of documents from a cloth bag.
Hannah was amazed as she watched the little round woman retrieve a leather medical bag from underneath a floorboard. Moving around the kitchen with the ease of an experienced chef, she gathered various pieces of medical equipment hidden in different food containers and sacks.
She finished her task then handed the bag to Hannah. Finally, she took something from a metal canister and placed it in Hannah’s hand. It was a small scone.
“For you to eat before your journey,” she said, closing Hannah’s hand over it and squeezing it. “Don’t ask me where I got the flour.”
Hannah nodded thankfully, said her goodbyes, then accompanied by the sweet Dutch woman with the candy-floss white hair, moved down the hall to the front door and slipped out into the street.
Chapter 45
A few days after their conversation, Vi approached Ingrid’s desk, her eyes wide. “We need to go to the bathroom,” she said in a hushed tone.
Ingrid knotted her eyebrows. “What do you mean?” she responded with irritation, not looking up or wanting to be distracted from her work.
Vi leaned in close and whispered into her friend’s ear, “I’ve found out something. We need to go, now!” She jerked her head toward the corridor.
Ingrid understood. She put down her work and followed her friend out the door.
Once in the ladies’ restroom, Vi checked all of the stalls to make sure nobody else was there before turning to face Ingrid.
“What did you find?” Ingrid enquired expectantly.
“You’re never going to believe this,” Vi whispered. “I found something in Herr Mautner’s drawer. I’ve been watching him for a while, and there was something about him I just didn’t trust. Today, I had to deliver some files to him, and I just happened to drop a couple on the floor.” She smiled slyly. “And while I was down there picking them up, I slipped open the bottom drawer he keeps locked whenever he’s not in his office and found this.”
She handed Ingrid a folded piece of paper. On it were the details of a location.
“What is it?” Ingrid asked.
“I think this is where the Resistance is planning to blow up the fuel train. It’s on the route, next to the tracks.”
“This was in Herr Mautner’s office?” Ingrid responded incredulously. “I would never have thought of him as a traitor, but it makes sense. His job is coordinating all the ammunition coming in and out of Amsterdam.”
“It’s always the person you lea
st expect,” Vi stated, her eyebrows raised.
Ingrid thought about the studious, diligent little man, who was always impeccably dressed, with his egg-shaped head and heavily grooved forehead, his rat-like eyes staring out from horn-rimmed glasses, beady and expressionless. He had always been somewhat cold with Ingrid, and he seemed to begrudge the fact she and Heinrich had a special relationship.
“This is unbelievable,” she muttered. “I’m going to go straight to Heinrich to tell him.”
She made for the bathroom door, but Vi stopped her. “But he will just deny it! I think we need to catch him in the act. And didn’t you say you wanted to make Heinrich see you as heroic?”
Intrigued, Ingrid turned. “What do you mean?”
Vi moved swiftly to her side. “What if you were actually to go there and spy on them? What if you were to go before they plant the explosives? Then you could go straight to Heinrich, and he could come and catch them in the act. Then, instead of exposing one traitor, you’d be catching a whole group. Wouldn’t that really help him?”
Ingrid thought for a minute. It certainly sounded appealing. She imagined how happy Heinrich would be when she had been the one to uncover members of the Resistance. He would be so proud of her.
“It’s a perfect idea,” Ingrid responded. “What do I need to do?”
Vi thought for a moment. “First, I think we have to find out when the fuel train is coming in so we know when to be there,” she explained. “Then we can go to these coordinates and wait. I will come with you if you like, so you’re not alone. We could get there early and spy on those people. Then we can race back to the nearest station, and call Heinrich to get him to meet you there with the police.”
“I love this idea,” Ingrid said. “Thank you so much.” She threw her arms around her friend’s neck. “You are the best friend ever.”
Vi pulled away. “We all have to do what we have to do for the war effort,” she said, more seriously.
Ingrid nodded and happily left for her desk. She now had a plan.
The next day, Ingrid slipped into Heinrich’s office when he was meeting with city officials and closed the door. She was glad she knew the code to the safe—he had given it to her years before when there had been a lot less security. She hoped he hadn’t changed it. Moving stealthily inside, she turned it to the numbers she knew and was delighted when the heavy metal door creaked open. She pulled out Heinrich’s master file and flicked through the pages to locate the information she needed—the times and arrivals of all the inbound trains. She determined all the trains for the next month and smiled. She put back the ledger, closed the safe, and returned to the offices.
Eying Vi, she walked to her desk and whispered in her ear. “Friday afternoon at 6.30 p.m., there is a fuel train coming in from Germany.”
Vi nodded. “I will start watching the office for Resistance activity. We will make a hero out of you, no doubt, Miss Held.”
Ingrid nodded. Excitement filled her as she returned to her desk. The only thing on her mind was what she and Heinrich would do once the war was over.
Chapter 46
That week, the desperation of the famine had been lessened by humanitarian food drops that were organized by the Allies. Instead of bombs, the mighty Lancasters released care packages filled with tinned food, flour, peas, coffee, sugar, dried egg powder and chocolate. Grateful Dutch rushed out into the fields to greet the planes, waving flags and holding up their signs of thanks.
Josef was in his kitchen opening an unlabeled can. Earlier that day Hannah had dropped around a small food parcel but had rushed off soon after arriving. He was idly wondering what the can might contain when he happened to glance up at his calendar. Since leaving the university, one day had merged into another without the precise schedule that he had adhered to in academic life. When he saw the date, his heart stopped for a second, and he couldn’t believe it. It was his wedding anniversary, and he hadn’t even been aware of it. Every year since her death until now, he would feel an overwhelming gloom setting in days before, and would often take the day itself off from the university to place flowers on her grave. But it was here, and he had nearly forgotten it.
He stopped opening his can, which he could now see was tinned meat, and stared out of his window as he remembered her voice.
“We will always celebrate our anniversaries, won’t we, Josef?” she had whispered into his ear on their first. She had been wearing a brooch in the shape of a tulip, her favorite flower, that he had bought her as a gift.
“Of course, my love,” he’d answered her. “We’ll always remember.” And now here he was already halfway through the day, and he’d barely given her a thought. He wanted and needed to tell somebody about her life. There was only one person—it was finally time to share his story with Michael.
He had been contemplating it ever since the day that Sarah’s chest had been broken open during the air raid. Even though it was the middle of the day he poured himself a small glass of wine, he had managed to save through the difficult winter, and lifted it toward the framed picture of his wife that he now kept downstairs and wished her a happy anniversary.
“Twenty-four years, Sarah. Twenty-four years since you became my wife and made me the happiest of men. From the time we met I have thought about you every day, and even though you were only with me for such a short time, I still love you, and part of me always will.”
He took a sip of his drink and thought about the young girl with the copper curls and the dancing emerald eyes. Where had the years gone? To him, time had stood still for so long, though he’d noticed a change in himself since the day of the illness when he had dreamed about her. Things had started to shift within him. He didn’t feel so constricted. He knew, with his temperature so high, that the dream was probably nothing more than a hallucination, but it had been such a vivid experience that it had stayed with him in a genuine way, a comforting arm around his shoulders, making him feel as if everything was going to be all right.
He remembered her words of reassurance, and each day he reminded himself that he’d been given a gift and that Sarah had encouraged him to focus on taking care of Michael now.
He poured a glass of wine for Michael and, carrying the open can of meat, he climbed to the attic. Michael was lying on his bed, reading a book of poetry. Josef handed the food and glass of wine to him.
“Are we celebrating?” he enquired, quirking an eyebrow.
“Yes,” affirmed Josef as he seated himself in the old armchair in the corner. The same chair that he had placed there while Michael had been sick. It had remained next to Michael’s bed and had become a favorite place for them to converse, with Michael lying on his bed and Josef seated next to him.
“Did the Germans finally leave town?”
Josef looked down at his glass before responding in a quieter tone. “I’m afraid nothing that exciting. But it is my wedding anniversary.” Josef could tell by his expression that Michael instantly understood his mixed feelings. “I would have been married twenty-four years today,” he continued. “And it’s been over twenty years since Sarah’s death. She was just twenty-two when I married her and I still love her.”
“The same age as Elke when I met her,” Michael mused. “What was she like?”
Josef took another swig of the wine. It would take a little courage to tell Michael the story he needed to tell him.
“She was the brightest, funniest, most alive person I’ve ever met, and why she fell for an awkward, skinny mathematics teacher, I will never know. In many ways, you remind me of her.” He smiled. “Your devil-may-care attitude. Your desire to live the best life you can live… Your passion.”
Michael swung his legs around and sat up on the bed, clearly sensing Josef needed a moment before he continued his story. “Ah, I wonder about that passion. I wonder about who I’m going to be after this war. Everything seemed so easy, before. I had a dream of becoming a poet, of spending my life creating beautiful words, maybe even being a sch
olar. And after this war, if we even win, I’m probably just going to be nothing more than a Jew.”
Josef wished he could assure him that it wouldn’t be the case, but the world had gone mad and no one could predict what peacetime would look like.
“I had a dream the other night that I was free, and so was Elke. And we were able to be together. It was so real. When I woke up, I was surprised to see she was not there with me.”
Josef sat back in his seat. “I had a dream, too… when I was sick. Sarah came to me in that dream, and she talked to me about my life and our life together. She made it clear to me there were things in my life I needed to forgive. Forgive her, forgive myself, and each day since then, I have tried to get to that place of forgiveness.”
Michael looked up and spoke gently, “Can I ask—how did you lose her?”
Josef took in a breath and held it for a long time before slowly letting it out and taking another sip of his wine.
“She was the most beautiful pregnant woman I have ever seen. Some women, you know, get sick or pale during their pregnancies. Not Sarah. Sarah seemed to get more beautiful by the day, even when she became very heavy. It was the summertime, and there were many festivals and music concerts, and she wanted to go to all of them. I was apprehensive, but Sarah didn’t seem to care. She danced to music and walked around barefoot and happy, her skin browned by the sun. Just a month before the baby was due to be born, she had started to get some back pain. I had been very busy. We had final exams for many of the students, and I must admit, I was preoccupied with my work. And because Sarah was really content, I took it in my stride that everything was well.”
“When you talk about her your whole being lights up,” Michael observed.
“It is hard not to, just remembering. She was so happy to be having our first child. She loved to feel the baby moving in her stomach and was excited, telling me that she believed another professor was waiting to be born. I didn’t care as long as it was healthy, but my wife…” He stopped to think, and finally settled on, “She celebrated who I was. As the days wore on and she grew closer to her due date, her sister, Yvette, agreed to come from the countryside to help with the delivery. But it wasn’t so easy to travel. Something detained her, and she was unable to come at the agreed time and instead put her trip off for a few days. But Sarah wasn’t the least bit concerned.
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