A sudden cry from the other side of the room brought Kitty back to the here and now. An old woman was clutching her chest, looking as if she might collapse. Another, younger woman grabbed her arm, holding her up, while a man—one of the blockhouse leaders—jabbed a finger at the list on the wall in front of them.
“Jej syn! Jest w Hamburgu!” The man’s voice boomed out across the room. Her son! He’s in Hamburg!
Father Josef reached across the table and placed his hand on Kitty’s. “This is hard for you,” he whispered. “But please, don’t give up hope.”
CHAPTER 8
Delphine peeped around the door of the women’s ward to watch the trainees as they went about changing bed linens. She had recruited three girls and a boy from among the orphans. With Wolf’s help, she was teaching them the basics of hospital hygiene. They didn’t seem to mind taking orders from him, even though he was younger than all of them.
This morning, though, Wolf had not appeared at the door of the blockhouse when she had called for the children. She had tried, in her limited Polish, to ask the others where he was. Worried that he might be unwell, she’d said his name and mimed illness, pulling a face and clutching her stomach. One of the girls had shaken her head. She’d looked at the others, who had simply shrugged. Delphine told herself that he must have gone off on some errand—probably involving food, as he always seemed to be ravenous. His name was very fitting in that regard.
“Madame Fabius!” The voice startled her. She turned to see Wolf, clutching a bunch of wild roses, a mischievous grin on his face. “For you, madame.” He held out the flowers.
“Thank you.” She brought them up to her face, breathing in the delicate perfume. She wondered where he’d found them growing. He’d picked up an astonishing number of English phrases in a very short time, but she doubted he’d understand a question like that.
“You like?” he said.
She nodded. “Pi?kne. Beautiful.” This was something she’d learned from Dr. Jankaukas. He said it every time he finished stitching up a wound or plastering a broken limb.
Wolf repeated the word, breaking it up into syllables. The earnest expression in his big dark eyes melted her heart. She had to fight the urge to gather him up in a bear hug.
She found a temporary home for the flowers in a specimen bottle. As she was filling it with water, she spotted Father Josef coming through the door to the ward. He nodded a greeting as he made his way through to the men’s ward. After a few minutes he emerged and came over to where she was weighing a baby girl who had been born the previous night.
“Madame Fabius, would you mind if I speak to the ladies in here?”
She looked at him, surprised. “No, I don’t mind—although some of them may be a little tired.” She wondered if he’d come to invite them to Mass. Perhaps he was hoping to increase attendance at the chapel by catching people who couldn’t get away when he came to speak to them.
“The Red Cross lists have arrived,” he said. “I know the patients here aren’t able to go and read them for themselves, so I thought I might ask if there’s anyone they’re trying to trace.”
“That would be a great kindness.” Delphine glanced around the ward, unable to look him in the eye. She felt guilty for misjudging the motive for his visit.
“Your young assistants might like to see the lists,” he went on. “They are orphans, I know, but there may be other family members . . .”
“Of course. Will you explain to them if I go and round them up?”
He nodded. “Whatever is easiest for you.”
The faces of the auxiliaries lit up with hope as they listened to Father Josef. She gave them permission to go and look at the lists, and they dashed off to the mess hall. The only one who seemed uninterested was Wolf. He hovered on the edge of the group as the priest was speaking, then disappeared into the side room. Reappearing with a pile of clean laundry, he proceeded to strip one of the beds on the far side of the ward.
“I don’t understand,” Delphine said to Father Josef. “Why didn’t Wolf want to talk to you?”
“Because there is nobody,” the priest replied. “When he arrived here, he told me that his mother had died before the war. From the way he described it, I think she probably had tuberculosis. After that it was just him and his father. The Germans left them alone at first. But when Wolf was ten, they sent them both to work in a factory making V-2 rockets.”