Page 69 of The Last Safe Place

“Who would take care of Mohrle the cat then? No, I must stay here. As soon as the war is over, you’ll come visit me, promise?”

“Alright.” The prospect of tropical fruit and chocolate seemed to be overcoming the pain of farewell, and finally a smile spread across Ilse’s face.

“Now let Aunt Carola go,” Michaela said, taking her coat from the hall cupboard before turning to Carola. “I’ll accompany you to the S-Bahn station.”

The two women walked silently side by side. There was nothing left to discuss. Just before the station, Carola stoppedand pressed a ten-franc note into Michaela’s hand. “I kept this from a trip a few years ago, hoping to travel there again. I’m sure you can make better use of it than I can.”

“Thank you so much! I hope we’ll see you again soon.” Michaela hugged her sister-in-law. “Take care of yourself.”

“You too, you and your girls.” Then Carola turned and walked briskly away.

Michaela made her way home alone. With each step, she became more aware of the finality of their parting. If she ever returned to Berlin, nothing would be the same.

She pulled back her shoulders and raised her chin. Whatever fate had in store for her, she was armed and ready.

34

SEPTEMBER 28, 1942

Eberhard and Selma were at the Seiferts’ for a small farewell party. Gerda and their house guest Claudia had outdone themselves, conjuring up a tasty meal from their meagre food supplies.

“My heart feels so heavy at saying goodbye,” said Gerda, looking around her bare living room. There was nothing left besides some furniture and utensils – anything decorative or of material value had been taken by the furniture removers.

“Mine too. Especially having to leave all our friends behind,” agreed Selma.

Eberhard eyed the two women. “The only friends we have left are you. All our Aryan friends have either turned their backs on us or are afraid to visit us.”

“Yes, it’s been very lonely in recent years.” Anton rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He’d been able to get out of bed for the past two days, but was supposed to take things easy. He hadn’t joined the others at the table to eat the casserole, but had been sipping at a herbal tea on the sofa.

“Is your gallbladder causing problems again?” asked Selma.

Anton shook his head. “Thankfully, no. Frau Kronberg’s morphine has worked wonders. But I don’t want to risk anythingbefore our departure. It would be a disaster if I had to go to hospital when we’re virtually on our way to the train station.”

“Everything will be fine.” Gerda patted his pale, wrinkled hand.

Only then did Eberhard realize how much Anton had aged. He hoped his old friend would get the necessary surgery shortly after their arrival in Switzerland.

“Well, I won’t miss Germany at all,” said Eberhard.

“Honestly?” Gerda’s voice was full of unshed tears.

“Maybe I’ll miss our house, our walks in the evening, but the rest? What has become of our once beautiful country? A nation in military turmoil, where every citizen is whipped up by Goebbels’ demagogic speeches to outdo his neighbor in his bloodthirstiness, patriotism and Hitler-worship.” Eberhard shook his head sadly. “No, this is not my country anymore.”

“You may be right, old friend.” Anton’s voice was thoughtful, the tone he’d used in court when he was still allowed to practice as a lawyer. “I’ve always felt I’m German, and I’ll never lose my Germanness until the day I die, though I’ve completely lost any sense of patriotism or nationalism. Just the sight of a German flag makes me feel uncomfortable.”

“I couldn’t have put it better myself,” said Eberhard. He was no doctor, but he suspected that Anton’s gallbladder troubles stemmed from the political situation. No one would be surprised.

Claudia came into the dining room with a bowl of stewed apple. After serving a portion to everyone – except Anton, who was allowed one slice of apple to nibble – she disappeared back into the kitchen.

“What will happen to Claudia?” Selma asked.

“We found her a position with the Hansens. She’ll start next week. I’m sure you remember them?” Putting a spoonfulof stewed apple into her mouth, an expression of delight stole across Gerda’s face. “Delicious.”

“Hansen? You mean the merchant?” Eberhard followed suit with his spoon, and had to admit that, despite the drastically reduced sugar content, the dessert was delicious.

“I thought they emigrated a long time ago,” Selma said in surprise.

“They intended to but, shortly after they received a visa for the Netherlands, the Wehrmacht invaded the country.” Anton frowned. “Now they’re on the list for an American visa – in about fifty thousandth place.”