“Yes, it is I.” Connie walked across to where Sophia sat and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Don’t be afraid, but you have a visitor. I think you’ll be very happy when you realize who it is.”
“Sophia, Sophia my love, it’s Frederik,” a voice whispered from behind Connie. “I’m here,
mein Liebling
.”
For a moment, Sophia could not speak. “Am I dreaming? Frederik?” she whispered. “Is it really you?”
“Oh, yes, my Sophia, it is.”
Sophia reached out her arms wide, the book dropping to the floor.
Connie backed away, watching from the door as Frederik walked to Sophia and took her in his arms. Tears filled Connie’s eyes as she quietly left the room, closing the door behind her.
A
ll that night, Connie sat up in Jacques’s sitting room, keeping watch. When the airmen left at two, Jacques joined her, yawning.
“At least that is part of our trouble removed from the house. What about the other?” He indicated below the floorboards. “Is he still with her?”
“Yes.”
“Have you been down to check on them?”
“Once. I could hear them talking.”
“Forgive me, Constance, but can you really trust him? It may be a trick to fool us, using a love-struck young girl.”
“I can assure you it isn’t. You only need to look at him to see he’s telling the truth. It’s obvious he’s been on the run for weeks. We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him aiding our escape from Paris. And he loves Sophia with every fiber in his body.”
“But what if he’s been followed?”
“Of course, it’s a strong possibility—”
“Constance! From what I’ve heard from you about his brother, it’s a certainty.”
“But while they’re both down in the hidden room, surely they’re safe? And Frederik knows he must leave as soon as possible. But to deny them what may well be their last few hours together would be terribly cruel. Please, Jacques, give them this time. I think they’ll have a lot to talk about, given the circumstances.”
“He must leave quickly,” Jacques said with a shudder. “If it’s ever known we have harbored a Nazi here, it will be the end of me.”
“Please, Jacques, he’ll move on tomorrow,” Connie replied staunchly.
• • •
Sophia lay on the narrow bed that barely sufficed for her, let alone the man in whose arms she was currently held. She continually stroked his face, his neck, his hair, to convince herself Frederik was really there. He was so exhausted he sporadically fell asleep, then woke with a jump and tightened his loosened grip around Sophia’s shoulders.
“Tell me, my love, what can we do?” she asked him. “There must be somewhere in the world we can run to?”
Frederik gently stroked the outline of his child underneath the thin, white skin of Sophia’s stomach. “You must stay here until our baby is born. You have no choice. I’ll leave tomorrow and, God willing, find a safe harbor until the war is over. I promise you, it won’t be long now.”
“I’ve heard that for years and it never seems to end.” Sophia sighed.
“It will end, Sophia, I swear, and you must believe it. And then, when it’s over, and I’ve found a place we can be, I’ll come to find you and our child.”
“Please don’t leave me! I cannot bear it without you,
please
. . .” The words that even she knew were fruitless were muffled as she buried her face in his warm chest.
“It’s only for a few more months, and you must hold on. Be strong for the baby. And, one day, we’ll sit with him and tell him of the bravery his mother showed to bring him into the world. Sophia”—Frederik kissed her forehead, nose, and lips tenderly—“I said I’d come to find you this time and I have. I will not let you down in the future. Believe me.”
“I believe you. So let us talk of happier subjects. Tell me about your childhood,” Sophia suggested, suddenly desperate to glean all the information she could of the man she loved—the father of her child.
“I grew up in East Prussia, in a small village named Charlottenruhe.” Frederik closed his eyes and smiled as he pictured it. “We were lucky, for our family lived in a beautiful
Schloss
, surrounded by the many acres of fertile land that we owned and farmed. East Prussia was known as the Corn Chamber, for it had hundreds of miles of land on which crops grew. And from that, we who lived there became prosperous. I had a beautiful childhood, wanting for nothing, loved by both my parents, and blessed with an excellent education. Perhaps the only trouble I had was from my brother, who resented me from the start.”
“Two brothers, born an hour apart, brought up in the same family, and yet you’re so very different.” Sophia patted her tummy. “I can only hope our little one takes after his father, not his uncle. Where did you go when you left school?”
“Falk went straight into the army and I went to university in Dresden to study politics and philosophy. It was an interesting moment in time—the Führer had just come to power. After years of poverty for so many Germans since the end of the First World War, Hitler began making reforms to provide wealth and a better standard of living for his citizens. Like the rest of the young radical thinkers, and with a particular interest in politics because of my degree, I became swept up in the excitement.” Frederik sighed. “You won’t want to hear this, Sophia, but in the first years that Hitler became chancellor, he made a lot of changes for the better, and his ideas to build our nation into a strong economic and industrial international force were enticing. I went to one of his rallies in Nuremberg, and the atmosphere was incredible. The Führer had a magnificence, a charisma that made him irresistible to a downtrodden nation. And when he spoke, we believed every word of it. He offered us hope for the future and we worshipped him. I, like the rest of my friends, hurried to sign up to his party.”
“I see.” Sophia shuddered. “So how did it change?”
“Well”—Frederik searched for the words in his exhausted mind to try to explain—“it’s hard for you and me to imagine the thoughts of millions of people hanging on every word we utter, to be the subject of such frenzied adoration, with hardly a dissenting voice among them. Surely we would feel omnipotent, a God?”
“I understand, yes,” murmured Sophia into his shoulder.
“Even before the war began, I was horrified at what he was doing to the Jews in Germany, and the way he was outlawing religion. I’m a Christian, as you know, a fact I had to keep hidden for my own safety. But by that time, I’d already been chosen to join the intelligence service. I had no choice, Sophia. I would have been shot if I’d refused.”
“My Frederik, what you have suffered.” Sophia’s eyes were full of tears.
“My suffering is nothing compared to thirteen-year-old boys who have a gun forced into their hands to kill for a cause they don’t even understand!” Frederik began to weep too. “And I too, through my actions, knowingly sent people to their deaths. You don’t know the terrible things I’ve done . . . God forgive me for them. And you, Sophia”—Frederik looked at her with agonized eyes—“how can
you
forgive me? How can I forgive myself?”
“Frederik, please . . .”
“Yes, you’re right, enough of that now,” he murmured, caressing her hair with his lips. “Down here with you, I finally feel safe and peaceful. And if I died right now, I’d die happy.”
Frederik settled back down next to Sophia and looked up at the reflection of the oil lamp on the darkened ceiling. “I think I’ll remember this night for always. I understand that paradise is not being in a beautiful place like the Garden of Eden as the Bible suggests, or amassing great wealth to provide power and status. Those things are only outer beauty and mean nothing. For here I am, in a damp, dark cellar, already sentenced to death. Yet, with you in my arms, I’m at peace.” Frederik gave a sob of emotion. “My soul is in paradise because I’m with you.”
“Frederik,” Sophia begged, “please, hold me like you can never let me go.”
• • •
The residents of the de la Martinières château awoke to a soft Provençal dawn. The occupants above the ground prowled nervously, and those below lay wakeful too, dreading the sun rising in the sky.
• • •
In London, at first light, Édouard de la Martinières was disturbed by a low and insistent hum, which turned as it passed overhead to a deafening roar. He went to the window and saw the aircraft flying in massed formation in a never-ending stream across the capital. It was the sixth of June, 1944. D-day had just begun.
• • •
At seven o’clock, Connie heard a tentative tap on the kitchen door. She opened it and saw Frederik standing there, his eyes still alight with the fire of love.
“I must leave soon, Constance. Could I trouble you for some coffee and perhaps some bread for breakfast? It may be the last food I get for a long time.”
“Of course. And I’m sure we can provide you with some fresh clothes to wear. You’re a similar height to Jacques.” Even from this distance, Connie could smell Frederik’s staleness.
“That’s most kind of you, Constance. Sophia has asked you to go to her. She says there’s a garden in which it’s safe for her to sit. She would prefer to say good-bye to me there.”
“Of course.” Connie indicated a kettle close to boiling on top of the range and the bread left over from the night before. “There are washing facilities just outside the kitchen door. I’ll bring you some clothes down.”
Jacques had cycled off to the village to buy fresh bread, so Connie went to his wardrobe, brought down a pile of clothes she thought suitable and offered them to Frederik. “Take what fits. I’ll help Sophia into the garden and then return. I’ll also see if we can give you some francs to aid your journey.”
“Constance, you’re an angel of mercy and I’ll never forget what you’ve done for Sophia and myself. Thank you.”
• • •
Connie knocked on the door of Sophia’s cellar room fifteen minutes later. She was sitting on her bed, her face serene and beautiful.
“Frederik said you would like to say good-bye to him in the garden.”
“Yes. It may be a long time before we’re together again. And I’d like to remember the last moments we have together as if both of us were simply free to go wherever we chose.”
“I understand, but you must be ready to move quickly if anyone should come.”
“Of course. Now, Constance, can you make sure I have no smudges on my face and my hair is neat?”
When Connie had done her best in the dim light the small window provided, thinking that, with love lighting her face, Sophia would look beautiful without any attention, Connie led her upstairs into the walled garden and sat her at the table under the chestnut tree.
“I’ll bring Frederik here to you.”
“Thank you. It’s a beautiful morning.”
“Yes, it is.”
Connie left the garden and Sophia sat alone, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her face. She breathed in the scented air, recognizing the strong smell of lavender planted profusely in the borders of the garden.
“Sophia.”
“You’re back so fast.” She smiled, opening her arms to greet him. “Has Constance left us alone?”
After a slight pause he said, “Yes.”
“Come and hold me, Frederik. Our time runs out.”
He did so, and Sophia breathed in his scent, different from an hour ago. She traced the familiar structure of his face and then the roughness of a strange jacket. “I think you’ve washed and Constance has provided you with new clothes.”
“Yes, she’s very kind.”
“Must you leave immediately? Perhaps we could sit here for a little longer.” She patted the chair next to her and felt for his hands as he sat down. Their grip seemed tighter than usual, his hands less calloused, probably from the soap.
“How will I know how to reach you when you leave?” she asked.
“I’ll contact you. Perhaps if you tell me where your brother is hiding, I can send a message to him too.”
“Frederik, I told you last night, I don’t know where he is. He stays away to protect me.”
“You really have no idea where he is?”
“No!” She shook her head in frustration. “Why do we talk of this when at any minute you’re leaving? Frederik, please, we have so little time left, let us talk of our plans for the future. Perhaps we should decide on a name for our child, depending on whether it’s a girl or a boy.”
“How about Falk, after his uncle?” It was the same voice, but it came from a distance. Sophia did not understand. Her arms flailed out as she searched for him.
“Where are you? Frederik? What’s happening?”
Frederik surveyed his brother, who had stood up from the chair next to Sophia and now pointed a pistol at him.
“So, you have come, Falk,” Frederik stated.
“Of course.”
“And have you brought the might of your Gestapo friends with you? Are they waiting at the entrance of the château to march me back to Germany?” Frederik asked wearily.
“No.” Falk shook his head. “I thought I would enjoy this pleasure alone. Give you one last chance to explain. After all, you are my brother. I felt it was the least I could do.”
“That’s most kind of you.” Frederik nodded. “How did you find me?”
“It would take a fool not to know where you would head. You’ve been followed for the past few weeks. I knew you would eventually lead me to the others I’m interested in questioning. For example, the young lady who sits before us. Unfortunately, she refuses to divulge the whereabouts of her brother. Although she knows where he is, of course.”
“Monsieur, I do not! He does not tell us for our own protection!” Sophia cried.
“Come now, fräulein, even a whore like you”—Falk indicated her stomach—“who has her brains elsewhere, would not expect me to believe that.” He turned his attention back to Frederik. “You know I have a warrant for your arrest in my pocket. It would be a shame if I had to kill you now to force your girlfriend to talk.”
“Perhaps you have anticipated this moment since we were children, Brother.” Frederik looked at his twin with sadness in his eyes. “And I would die happily at your hands if it wasn’t for the woman I love. If I surrender to you peacefully and accompany you back to Germany, where you can be lauded for your cleverness in hunting me down, would you spare her? I swear to you on our mother’s life, Sophia knows nothing of Édouard de la Martinières’s whereabouts. So do we have a deal?” begged Frederik. “I will come freely and give you the glory you’ve always sought, if you will spare both the woman I love and our child.”