Page 70 of The Last Safe Place

“Oh dear Lord, the war will have to go on for a very long time before they reach the front of the queue.” Eberhard was under no illusions, that by then, it would be too late for most to save themselves from the dreaded deportations, or evacuations as the Gestapo liked to call them.

Their conversation was interrupted by a ring on the doorbell. The four friends cast each other questioning glances.

“Are you expecting more visitors?” Selma asked.

Gerda shook her head. “Maybe it’s someone who’s heard we’re leaving and wants to say goodbye.”

The next moment, Claudia’s head appeared around the living room door. She was visibly shaken. “Frau Seifert, the Gestapo are outside.”

A wave of fear rushed through the room, and Eberhard struggled to breathe. As he hurriedly groped in his jacket pocket for the protection letter from the Abwehr, he heard Gerda’s calm voice through the ringing in his ears. “I’ll get it.”

Eberhard was astonished at his friend’s composure: he wouldn’t have been able to stand up in that moment. His searching gaze fell on the empty sideboard against the wall, where once a telephone had been.

Finally, his instincts returned with an audible gasp. The incoming air streamed through his nose, bringing the mingled smells of stewed apple and a sharp, deadly fear. They were so close to their longed-for goal. Was something going to frustrate all their efforts, right at the last minute? Images appeared in his mind’s eye of events in the concentration camps, described to him so vividly by former inmates after the November pogroms of 1938.

It wasn’t long before Gerda entered the living room with two men. They wore civilian clothes, but their strut and posture were unmistakably Gestapo. The roar in Eberhard’s ears became deafening, as if he were torn into the swirling abyss of a river.

“We are here for Claudia Sara Keller.”

To his own shame, Eberhard had to confess that his relief silenced the roaring in his ears. In the next second, he berated himself for his heartlessness.

“As I was saying,” Gerda replied kindly, but firmly. “There must be a mistake. Fräulein Keller is starting a new position next week and has a permit?—”

“Enough! The Gestapo never makes mistakes,” one of the officers cut her short before scrutinizing her. “So either Jewess Keller gets her suitcase right now, or the rest of you can fetch your luggage too.”

“But—” Eberhard closed his mouth quickly, as he didn’t want to risk antagonizing the officer. The Gestapo could do as they pleased. Not even the letter of protection from the Abwehr would help if they had been shipped off to who knows where.

Even if they were released, the express train to Basel would have long since gone, and who knew whether they’d receive a second chance? Despising himself for his lack of support for the young woman, he stared at his plate, his hand clutching the fork.

Gerda, on the other hand, said without a trace of timidity, “If you’ll allow me, gentlemen, I’ll help our houseguest pack her things.”

The officer nodded. “A suitcase with personal items, nothing else.” Once Gerda and Claudia had gone upstairs, the officer let his gaze wander around the living room. “Looks like you’ve sold everything of value. Typical for you greedy Jewish brood, doing whatever you can to harm the German Reich.”

Another retort leapt to Eberhard’s tongue, and again, he swallowed it down. He concentrated on the cake fork in his hand. How he longed to ram it into the Gestapo officer’s heart!

Horrified at these violent thoughts, so foreign to him under normal circumstances, he loosened his fingers from the fork and placed his hand under the table on his lap so that nobody could suspect his dark thoughts.

Selma, sitting diagonally across from him, sent him a loving gaze, reminding him that their futures were at stake. He wished he could help Claudia, but regrettably, he was completely powerless. Nothing he could say or do would prevent her deportation – all he could do was make sure his own family was spared.

His ears burned with shame, feeling the Nazis had turned him into a selfish egotist, thinking only of his own well-being and caring nothing for the fate of others.

A few minutes later, Claudia and Gerda returned to the living room, both bravely determined to not let their emotional turmoil show. Only Claudia’s hand, clasping the suitcase so firmly her knuckles were white, betrayed her feelings.

“Godspeed,” Gerda whispered, before the two officers pushed the girl toward the door.

As she left, Claudia raised her chin, turned, and said, “They’ll never get me down!”

A moment later, she was grabbed by rough hands and dragged out of the house.

“Oh my God, the poor girl,” murmured Selma. “What will happen to her?”

“I’m afraid we’d rather not know the details.” Anton rose laboriously from the sofa where he’d been resting all this time. “This disturbance has exhausted me. I’m going to bed.” With that, he left the living room and dragged himself up the stairs.

Open-mouthed, Eberhard watched his friend leave. Even Anton, the epitome of politeness, was leaving his guests and going to bed. The Nazis truly had turned everyone into savages.

“We should get going too,” said Selma.

Nobody expressed the fear in their hearts that their escape would be thwarted at the eleventh hour.