They were walking toward the blockhouses, away from where she was standing, so they didn’t spot her. When they reached the place where the trees gave way to the path, they both stopped. Delphine couldn’t see their faces. But there was something about the way their heads moved together, then moved apart . . .
Delphine blinked, rubbed her eyes. She watched them walk on, talking as they went, before they disappeared around a bend in the path. She must have imagined it, that thing she thought she’d seen.
You’re not yourself. It was Claude’s voice she heard.
No, she wasn’t. But she must try to be. She thought of Wolf. To lose both parents and survive a Nazi slave labor camp—and yet dream of becoming a doctor . . . His fortitude shamed her. Somehow, he had found the resilience to go on. If she was going to be of any use to the people in this place, she must find it, too.
CHAPTER 9
The sun was low in the sky when Martha left the stable block. It was amazing what the DPs had achieved in such a short time. The roof was repaired, the floor swept and scrubbed, and there were 150 straw-filled mattresses stacked up and ready to be distributed. If the new batch of refugees arrived tonight, it wouldn’t be a disaster.
She passed the mess hall, where Kitty was supervising an English class. Her pupils ranged from children as young as six or seven to adult men and women. All were copying sentences Kitty had written on the blackboard she’d set up in a corner of the room. Martha waved from the doorway and Kitty came to say hello.
“I didn’t realize you had so many,” Martha whispered.
“I think I’m going to have to divide them into two groups—do a couple of evenings instead of just one.” Kitty shrugged. “They’re very keen. They all want to go to America.”
Martha glanced around the room. She saw the intense concentration on the faces of Kitty’s pupils as they copied down the phrases on the board. It pained her to remember the major’s words about the United States closing its borders to foreign refugees.
“You’re doing a great job,” she said. “See you back at the house.”
As she walked on, past the warehouse, she heard someone calling out to her.
“Mrs. Radford!” It was Corporal Brody. “I’ve had a call from the guardhouse, ma’am,” he said. “There’s a German guy at the gates, shouting his mouth off. Says someone from here has stolen two of his pigs.”
“What?” Martha looked at him, incredulous.
“He says they were taken from his farm—the other side of the river.”
“Whoa . . .” Martha took a breath. “He’s saying that our DPs rounded up two pigs and brought them into the camp without anyone noticing? That’s ridiculous!”
“I know, ma’am.” Brody nodded. “What shall I say to Sergeant Lewis?”
“I guess we’ll have to search the camp, just to be certain. Ask him to tell the farmer that’s what we’re going to do.”
“Yes ma’am,” Brody replied.
“Tell me, Corporal,” she said. “If you had to hide a couple of pigs in this place, where would you choose?”
He pursed his lips. “I guess that would depend,” he said.
“On what?”
“On whether they were dead or alive.”
She nodded, feeling stupid for not having thought of that. Of course, the obvious thing would be to slaughter the animals in the woods, out of sight and sound, then carry them into the camp. But even then, the risk of being spotted would be huge. It seemed highly unlikely that the farmer’s accusation was true. But they were going to have to go through the motions of a search.
“There’s a basement under blockhouse five,” Brody said. “It’s where they put the ducks and chickens at nighttime. You could hide a carcass in there—butcher it and all—without anyone knowing what you were up to.”
“Okay, that’s where we’ll start. Is it safe for you to leave the warehouse unguarded for an hour or so?” She could have gone to find Stefan to help her. But on balance, that didn’t seem wise. He’d already told her he wouldn’t be her spy. To expect him to help rumble suspected pig rustlers wouldn’t exactly endear him to his fellow DPs.
“The next detail’s due in half an hour,” Brody said. “Shall I ask Sergeant Lewis if it’s okay for us to stay on a while and search the place?”
Martha nodded. “I’ll meet you at blockhouse five. If there’s nothing there, we’ll split up and search the other houses. I doubt anyone could hide a whole pig under a bed, but if the carcasses have already been butchered, I guess there could be joints of meat just about anywhere.” She realized that she was now talking as if the farmer’s accusation were true. In the blink of an eye, she’d switched from refusing to believe the DPs could be capable of such a crime to visualizing how they might conceal their ill-gotten gains. As she walked away from the warehouse, she made a fervent, silent prayer that it wouldn’t be true.