Page 78 of The Little Liar

The woman watched in silence. She crossed her arms as Fannie began to cry.

“What was this boy called?”

“Nico. His name was Nico.”

“I’ve never heard that name.”

“He was from Greece.”

The woman shook her head.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know him.”

“May I sit down? I don’t feel well.”

The actress motioned to a chair by a mirror. Fannie sat as the woman moved behind her. Their reflections filled the glass.

“How old were you in 1944?” the actress asked.

“Fourteen.”

“What were you doing on the Danube?”

“I was tied to other people, about to be murdered by theArrow Cross. Somebody saved me. Someone risked their own safety. And because of that, I’m alive.”

She wiped her eyes. “More than alive. Because of that, I was able to grow up. I was able to marry. I was able to have a child of my own and give her the things I never had.”

The woman said nothing. But Fannie saw her lower lip begin to tremble.

“It was you, wasn’t it? You were the one who saved me.”

Fannie grabbed her hand.

“It wasyou.”

“It wasn’t me,” the woman replied, taking her hand back. “It was my money. There is a price for everything. A price you pay for someone’s life to be spared. And a price you pay for sparing it.”

She touched her jaw.

“I heard they were terrible to you,” Fannie said.

“Less terrible than they were to others.”

“There was more than just me that night. There were at least twenty of us.”

“Twenty-three,” the woman said, softly.

She moved behind the counter and, from underneath it, opened a small safe. She rustled through the contents and pulled out an envelope. Inside was a piece of paper. She unfolded it and placed it in front of Fannie.

It was old and faded yellow at the corners. But the handwriting was clear. A list of names with birth dates. Twenty-three of them.

“Are you here?” the woman asked.

Fannie scanned the lines. When she reached number nineteen, she gasped, and placed her fingers beneath the words.

Fannie Nahmias, 2/12/1930

“It’s you?”