‘Finish off whatever food is left. I’ll bring more for the train and then, when you get to the Spreewald, there’ll be so much to eat, Lottie will think every day is her birthday!’
Michael had swung Lottie round and made her laugh and never thought the word birthday meant nothing to her.
It had been impossible to start marking the day, so Liese had filed it away instead with all the other missed treats she would one day make up for. Birthday parties, Christmas, ice cream, a pet. The list she carried in her head of everything her daughter’s childhood was meant to be, and wasn’t, kept growing.
‘Be ready by six.’
She’d been ready by five, their few possessions packed. Lottie was so used to night-time flits, she could pull on her dress in the dark. This would be the last change of name, the last change of address, or so Michael had promised. ‘A safe place to sit out the war’ he swore would soon be ending.
So where was he?
‘Wait till you see the house we’re going to live in. Michael says it’s so huge you’ll have your own bedroom and there’s a garden and an orchard for running around in. And I bet there’ll be a cat; all big country houses have a cat.’
Gabbling away to stop herself panicking; pouring out another litany of words Lottie didn’t know how to react to. Lottie continued feeding her doll without a glance for her mother.
Liese checked her papers for the twentieth time. Lena Edelmann. A name closer to her old one, in case Lottie’s rapidly expanding language skills really had remembered anything from before. A new identity playing a widow who had found work as a maid, moving out of Berlin to work on a farm and find her daughter a better life. It made as much sense as any of the others she’d practised. It would, at least, give her a job and a purpose.
‘This will be good for you both, I promise.’
Despite what Liese had said that first night, Michael had been full of promises lately. Ever since they had snatched a second and then a third night together; since their connection had deepened enough for her to stop counting. They were more careful now though, neither of them having any desire to add a pregnancy to the tightrope they walked.
‘Or not yet.’
Michael had blushed when he said that, and grinned like his old self again when he saw Liese’s answering smile.
Now, when Liese watched Lottie playing on her own, she imagined her in the middle of a trio of siblings. She conjured the family around the little girl that she had once longed for, and wove brothers and sisters into every story she told. When Michael heard her doing that, he began to pick up the same dream.
‘The couple who agreed to take you in are kind-hearted people. They’ve helped others; they know how to keep you safe. You could make a proper life with them; give Lottie as near as the war will let you to a real childhood. And then, when it’s done, I’ll come there and I’ll get you. We’ll come back to Berlin and we’ll make a life, the three of us first and then the rest. Maybe we’ll find your parents. Whatever happens, we’ll start over together, as a family. If that’s what you’d like.’
Such a shy look when he said that, his face all boyish.
Liese had smiled back at him and realised that, yes, she would like it very much. There was no time for any more declarations, but that felt like enough.
Except today was the first step and he wasn’t here. Michael was almost two hours late and he was never late. Punctuality was a code he lived by; that and reliability were the twin pillars of ‘the struggle’s creed’.
Liese’s stomach churned. Please God he hadn’t got caught up in the latest leaflet’s distribution, like he used to do in the old days, and had forgotten them, not after all they had been through. They had already been in this apartment too long. Nearly four months. Time enough to be noticed. For the old lady who lived opposite to remark on ‘how lonely that poor little girl must be’. For Liese to be looked at twice by the men clustered smoking outside the block’s scruffy door. She hadn’t mentioned any of that to Michael. He was watching out for their safety, she knew he was; her appearing nervous would only put him on edge.
Everything was ready – there was nothing left to do and distract her. Lottie was polished and shiny in her smartest dress, although it hung too loosely when it should have been too tight by now. Michael had found them a smarter case than the battered one that had limped beside them from flat to flat. He had also found Liese a hat to cover her grown-out hair. It was a silly pancake of a thing, trimmed with jaunty silk roses more suited to a wedding. It made her plain blue blouse and skirt look shabby, but it would do the trick. The shops had run out of hair dye months ago and Liese, in Lottie’s words, was starting to look ‘stripy’.
Eight o’clock.
It would be too late to go if he didn’t come soon. The plan, the little she knew of it, was for her and Lottie to catch an early train before the day’s checks began in earnest.
‘I can’t come with you. Even with my brilliantly staged limp, a man my age in civilian clothes draws questions like a magnet. You’ll travel with a woman, a country sort who won’t attract attention. I’ll pass you onto her.’
It had annoyed her, that, the implication that she was a parcel who didn’t need to know what her label said. It had also annoyed her that he wouldn’t give her any details beyond the bare minimum of the town in the Spreewald and a morning train, but the struggle demanded secrecy and the struggle always won. And if it was the struggle that had delayed him this morning, he could forget about her biting her tongue anymore.
‘Michael coming.’
Liese let go of her breath in a sharp exhale. Lottie’s well-trained ears had heard the whisper of footsteps before she had.
‘Come here now, sweetheart. We’ll have to move quickly if we’re going to get to the station on time.’
She waited for the customary three raps on the door. Nothing. What was keeping him?
‘What did you hear, monkey?’
‘Feet banging.’
Why would Michael run up the stairs with no care for the noise? Liese took a step back from the door.
‘Lottie, I don’t think it’s Michael. We may have to—’
A door slammed further down the corridor. Another one slammed closer. The unmistakable sound of boots came crashing up the hall.
‘Mama’s hurting Lottie. Stop it!’
Liese had Lottie’s hand held so tight, the tiny fingers had turned purple.
‘Quick, get under the bed.’
Lottie stared and began sucking her sore hand.
‘It’s a game, monkey. It will be fun, I promise, but you need to be quick.’
Her voice was too shrill, her mouth too stretched. Lottie whimpered and edged away.
‘Please, Lottie. Do what I say. I’m going to come under there with you.’
‘Open up!’
Lottie shot onto the bed like a firecracker exploding and hurled her body across Dolly’s.
‘Open up!’
There was a knife lying among the breadcrumbs on the table. Liese was a finger’s stretch away from it when the flimsy lock disintegrated.
A green-uniformed man strode in, wiping his hands. He swallowed her and the room in one sweeping look.
Remember the rules.
Except this wasn’t a busy street with places to duck into and Lottie wasn’t charming but terrified.