As she slid into the pew, she caught the eye of a woman sitting on the other side of the aisle. Instantly, the woman turned her head and her lace mantilla covered her profile, but Ariella’s heart thumped loudly in her chest. Was it Stella Kübler? The woman looked like the picture the forger had shown her, but she couldn’t be sure. Had the woman been there all along? She risked another glance. The woman was much better dressed than the rest of the congregation. Ariella fought the urge to flee, as she needed to stay in character. The moment Mass was over, the woman slipped out.
Ariella forced herself to wait until everyone was gone before returning to the sacristy.
Father Dominic was dressed in his black garb once more, and the boy was gone. ‘I brought you some bread, and there is some more of my tea if you’d like it?’ he said with a smile.
‘Yes. Thank you.’ She fell on the dry bread gratefully; she was very hungry. He brought her something every day, and when she was out and about, she hoped she’d find some food, but it wasn’t to be had. The money Frau Braun gave her was long gone – she’d bought what food she could – so now she was entirely dependent on the priest. The tea was still like drinking weed water, but it was warm and helped her swallow the bread.
He said kindly, ‘It’s not the most comfortable sleeping here, I’d imagine, but it’s better than being on the streets.’
‘Thank you.’ She smiled, wondering what, if anything, she should say about her suspicions. To say she even knew who Stella Kübler was would be to admit she wasn’t who she said she was.
‘Look, I know you stay out of sight during the day, but I wanted to tell you that Frau Groenig comes in at eleven each day to clean the church. You want to avoid running into her for your own sake.’ He pointed to an ornately carved oak box. ‘Frau and Herr Groenig are dedicated to the führer.’
Though there was nothing treasonous in his words, his tone revealed just what he thought about that. Why was he warning her? If she was a destitute Catholic, why wouldn’t a priest give her sanctuary?
They exchanged a look, then the priest pulled up a chair and sat opposite her. ‘What’s your name?’ he asked quietly.
‘I told you, Marta Weiss…’ she began.
‘Yes, I know whose papers you have, but who are you?’
Ariella swallowed. Despite sleeping in the sacristy all this time, she’d only had minimal contact with him. He left food, but she took care to be gone early and back late. Could he be trusted?
The words of the forger rang in her ears – ‘trust nobody’. But the priest had been so kind. Was it a trap? Surely a man of God, even if he was of a different faith, would not betray her.
‘It’s all right, you can trust me. On my honour as a priest, I swear to you I won’t betray you. But you’ll have to confide in me. You’re in danger, but I can’t help if I don’t know who you really are.’
Father Dominic’s bulk dominated the small room. Even if she wanted to escape, she couldn’t – he was between her and the door.
He was large and scruffy and reminded her of a big dog she’d had as a child. Bruno was a mongrel. Her father found him abandoned as a puppy, and he grew to almost the size of a small pony, but he was adorable and loved not just by her but by all the children on her street.
She made her decision. ‘My name is Ariella Bannon. I’m a Jew. My husband was a Christian, but he was taken in 1939 and killed. I got my two children on the Kindertransport, and they are safe in Northern Ireland, but I need to get to them,’ she whispered, sweat prickling her back as she spoke.
‘All right, and how did you survive until now?’ he asked.
‘I was hidden by a neighbour, but that house is no longer safe.’ She still wasn’t sure she was doing the right thing. If he asked her who protected her, then she would know that he was on the side of the Nazis. But he didn’t; he just nodded.
‘I knew you’d not been out in society, something about you.’ He smiled gently. ‘And the idea that a Catholic would have no idea when to stand, sit or kneel at Mass was a giveaway as well.’
‘I’m sorry, I…’ Ariella began.
‘Nothing to be sorry for. Your country has betrayed you, your fellow Germans allowed you to be persecuted. It is a crime I think history will judge us all harshly for, not just the Nazis, and with good reason. But now we need to deal with your immediate safety. I’ve seen a woman at Mass on and off for the past few weeks, and I didn’t recognise her. She was there again today, unfortunately, the one day you go to Mass. I know there is a woman, a Jewish woman, who is working for the Gestapo. She’s seeking out submerged Jews and handing them over to the police.’
Ariella recalled the forger’s warning. ‘Her name is Stella Kübler. I’ve seen a photo of her, and when I glanced over, I was sure it was her.’
He nodded. ‘Well, she’s often here, but that doesn’t mean she has spotted you, though you’ll have to be careful. I think Frau Groenig is an informer as well. She knows that from time to time I allow people to sleep here or in the church if they are destitute, and she watches everything. I am connected to a group, people who are trying hard to undermine the regime, so she’s been planted to watch me, I’m sure of it. She’s heard me speak out in sermons about the regime, about what’s happening in this city, all over Europe, and she’s more or less warned me to stop it or things will go badly for me. Already they’ve rounded up many of my brother priests – there’s a clergy wing at Dachau concentration camp, I believe.’ He gave a rueful smile. ‘I have no doubt that I will see it for myself someday, but I want to stay free for as long as I can, to do as much as I can.
‘Now, there were people who were operating escape lines out of the city, but they can no longer do that. Most of them have been caught anyway, so that’s not an option at the moment at least. You’ll have to stay here in Berlin for now, whatever the outcome, but we’ll need to submerge you further. I’m fearful that this Stella woman knows you’re here, so you’re in deep trouble and so am I. We need to think.’
She knew he was right.
‘So the neighbour who helped you before, you cannot go back there? Perhaps the threat has passed?’ he asked.
She thought of the horrible dingy attic, and it seemed like the safest, most comfortable place on earth at that moment. However lonely and uncomfortable it was, she had been safe there and Frau Braun made sure she didn’t starve.
‘No, I can’t go back. That house has been allocated as somewhere for bombed-out families or servicemen to get lodging. They had spare bedrooms, so someone from the housing authority came and inspected. I had to leave that day.’
He looked worried. ‘Right. Don’t worry. I’ll do my best.’ He moved towards the door. He noted her confusion. ‘It’s fine.’ He smiled. ‘You’ll be fine. Just stay out of sight, but not here – it’s not safe any more. If she sends anyone, I don’t want any trace of you. Is there somewhere you can go?’
She nodded. ‘I think so.’
‘Good. I’ll make enquiries, and I’ll see you back here this evening. Be very careful.’
‘I will. Thank you again. I am trying to get to Northern Ireland, as I said, to my children, but I don’t know if that would be possible… Maybe I could walk…’
She thought he might have an idea. All those weeks just holding on, sleeping in the church, walking by day, mile after pointless mile, sitting in churches for hours, air-raid shelters, anywhere people gathered. And everyone was so concerned with their own futures, they took no notice of her. She felt like a ghost, invisible, just wandering aimlessly. She was amazed she’d never been challenged by anyone in authority, but it all felt so pointless. If she was going to have to move on anyway, then maybe trying to get out was as good an idea as any.
The look he gave her made her instantly realise that wasn’t an option. ‘There is no way that can happen. All transport for civilians is forbidden, so you wouldn’t get out of the city, and even if by some miracle you did make it across the border and into France, for example, the Allies are
advancing rapidly – you would find yourself in the middle of a war zone. It’s dangerous enough here, but to try to get out of Germany at this point would be nothing less than a suicide mission.’ His tone brooked no argument.
He turned to face her and placed his hands on her shoulders, looking into her eyes. ‘Just try to keep yourself alive for now, that’s my advice. I know you’re trying to be patient and you want to get to your children, of course you do, but you’ve lasted this long – it would be such a waste to die now. This is going to be over – not tomorrow or next week, but soon – and then we can all see what’s what. Until then, it’s simply a matter of survival as best we can.’
‘Is it definite the Allies will win?’ she asked, not caring if she sounded silly or naïve.
He looked furtive and lowered his voice even though there was nobody about. ‘There are lots of people who are deluded into thinking Germany can still prevail. That’s nonsense, of course. If the Nazis had any defences left, don’t you think the air force would be up there, repelling the Allied bombers out of the skies? No, it’s over, but a dying wasp is a dangerous thing as it has nothing to lose. But if we can just stay alive, then this city will soon be liberated, either by the Russians or the Americans. The Russians most likely, unfortunately.’
‘Why unfortunately?’ she asked. ‘Surely anyone who can defeat the Nazis is good at this stage?’
Father Dominic paused, weighing up what he was going to say next. ‘What our troops did over there, the way they treated the Russians, well, they won’t want a nice diplomatic peace agreement. If the British or the Americans get here first, then they’ll sit down, extract a surrender from whoever is left of the regime and set about restoring some kind of civilised life. But the Russians, they will want revenge.’ His voice sounded tired.
‘Then will be the time to get out of the city, I would suggest, but until that time, staying hidden is probably the best option. Now’ – he ran his hand through his mop of hair, which was flopping into his eyes – ‘I’ll see you later.’ He let himself out of the church.
Ariella decided to go to Gretel despite the reception she’d received when she called and the sight of Kurt in that uniform. She hadn’t gone back the following day as Gretel suggested. Ariella knew her friend had only said it to get rid of her, and the look of sheer terror on her friend’s face made her realise that she could not rely on her. But now, things were different, and something made her want to see her friend one last time. She felt like the net was closing in, that every moment was precious, and Gretel was, apart from Father Dominic, her only friend. She would make sure not to endanger her, but she wanted to ask if there was somewhere she could hide. Not at their house probably, but maybe Nathaniel could think of somewhere at the bank or something? She was desperate, and she had to try.
She scanned the entire street outside the church; there was no sign of anyone.
Maybe that hadn’t been Stella after all, or maybe it had been but she was just trying her luck, searching for anyone who looked Jewish, not her specifically. She had papers saying she was Marta Weiss, she had red hair, and she should be fine, she told herself, so long as she was careful.
She walked through the Tiergarten, something she never did because it was too busy. She tended to stick to more suburban areas where there were fewer uniforms, but if she wanted to go to Gretel’s, it was the only way. She entered via one of the many city gates and strolled on, trying to look as weary and resigned as her fellow citizens. The bright summer sunshine warmed her face. It was a lovely day. It felt so good to have that sensation, that simple pleasure of turning her face to the sun and feeling the glow. She hoped that Liesl and Erich were enjoying the summer sun wherever they were. She knew from their letter that they lived by the sea. She thought it must be lovely for them, swimming and playing on the beach.
As she came to the gate that led out of the Tiergarten and onto Gretel and Nathaniel’s street, it struck her how no matter what carnage and destruction abounded, the sun rose and set every single day. Flowers bloomed in the park – not the beautifully manicured beds of the life before Hitler, but still some remained and popped their brightly coloured heads up. Nature didn’t care what stupid messes humans got themselves into; it just carried on regardless.
She went over everything. Father Dominic knew who she was – he probably knew all along, she realised – and there was a real possibility that Stella Kübler was looking for her, but she was optimistic. Things were still dire, but she was free, the war was almost over, the Nazis had been all but defeated and seeing her children again was a real possibility. She just needed to hold on and not get caught.
‘Halt, Fräulein.’ A voice interrupted her reverie. A uniformed policeman stood before her. He wore the green uniform of the Orpo, which everyone called the Grüne Polizei – the green police.
‘Where are you going?’ he asked politely.
She smiled and broadened her vowels to sound more like Marta from Fallersleben. ‘I’ve come to Berlin from Fallersleben. We were bombed out. I’m trying to find my aunt and uncle.’ She tried to keep her voice neutral, though her mouth was dry and she was sure he could hear her heart thumping in her chest.
‘Papers, please.’ He held his hand out.
She opened the clasp of her handbag and extracted her identity card, her certificate of Aryan descent and her battered ration card. It was the first time they’d been checked.
He said nothing but examined the cards, and several times, he glanced up at her face. After what felt like an eternity, he returned the papers to her.
‘And your husband?’ he asked slowly.
Her papers said she was Fräulein Marta Weiss, not Frau Weiss.
‘I’m not married,’ she said, forcing a smile on her face.
‘But you have an indent on your ring finger where a wedding ring would go,’ he said, taking her right hand in his. She’d taken her ring off to give to the forger, and he was right, the white indented skin did indeed show a mark.
‘I wore my grandmother’s ring. She gave it to me before she died, but I had to pawn it to get some money. My parents and I were bombed out, and there was just me – my brother was a gunner in the Luftwaffe, and he was lost.’ She cast her eyes downward, hoping he would not make direct eye contact with her again.
‘So you are not married?’ he asked again.
‘No…’ she said, terrified she would give herself away. Why was he sticking on that point? Did he know she was lying?
‘No sweetheart?’ he asked, this time bending his head slightly to look into her face. He was smiling.
‘No…nobody. I am just trying to find my aunt…’ She desperately clung to the cover story she’d invented.
‘Please, Fräulein, don’t be so nervous. You have nothing to fear from me. My mother brought me up to be respectful to ladies, especially very pretty ones.’ He grinned and she returned a weak smile.
She looked at him properly for the first time. He was young, perhaps late twenties, thirty at the most, and he was a perfect Aryan – blonde hair, athletic build, blue eyes. She wondered who he was connected to that allowed him to stay in Berlin as a policeman and not slaving away on the Eastern Front.
‘I’m sure she did a good job,’ she replied, since he seemed to expect a response.
‘She likes to think so.’ He winked and chuckled. ‘I am her pride and joy, you see. She worries, but if she thought I had a nice girlfriend, then she would relax a little.’
Ariella’s mind raced. What was happening here? Was he actually flirting with her? She forced herself to respond appropriately and reflect his jokey manner.
‘And do you have a nice girlfriend?’ she asked, a smile playing around her lips. This was ridiculous but necessary.
‘Alas, no, I don’t. I have been too busy with my duties. But I am a lonely boy these days, and I know my mother would appreciate it if I had some nice girl to keep me company.’ Again he chuckled, clearly enjoying the morning dalliance. Incredulous as it wa
s in this insanity all around them, he seemed in high spirits and wanted her to join in his banter.
‘That would be a lovely prospect, I’m sure.’ She smiled. ‘Good luck in finding her.’ She started to move away, desperate to end the exchange but equally anxious that it end on a friendly note.
As she turned, he placed his gloved hand on her sleeve. She swallowed but managed to giggle coquettishly.
‘Perhaps I already have, Fräulein Weiss.’ He put his head to one side and grinned. There was a kind of vulnerability to him beneath all the swagger and bravado, and she found herself feeling sorry for him.
‘Can we have lunch? I know a place where, well, they are generous with the portions if you know the right people.’ He smiled, and the implication clearly was that he was just such a person.
She racked her brain for a response that would simultaneously put him off but not anger or humiliate him.
‘I would love that.’ No plausible excuse came to her mind, so she decided to make the date and just not show up. She produced what she hoped was a radiant smile of delight.
‘Great.’ He looked like a child on Christmas morning. ‘Tomorrow?’ he asked.
‘Wonderful. Where should we meet?’
‘Where are you staying?’ he asked.
Her mouth went dry again. She said the first address that came to her mind – her and Peter’s old apartment. She had no idea who was living there now, but their beautiful sunny home was no doubt in the hands of some loyal servant of Hitler.
‘I don’t know that part of the city well, but I could find it and come and pick you up?’ He smiled again, and in another lifetime, she might have just seen him as a boy chancing his luck.
The Emerald Horizon (The Star and the Shamrock Book 2) Page 7