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A Feather on the Water(54)

Author:Lindsay Jayne Ashford

“That was so brave,” Martha said. “Risking their lives for those men.”

Delphine nodded. “I didn’t know the full story at the time. They kept most of it from me—to protect me, I think. But someone in the hospital betrayed them. The Nazis arrested them, and I . . .” She trailed off, glancing at Kitty. “I’m like you. I had a hidden reason for coming here. I just wanted to be close to them.” She turned to Martha. “I thought it would help, seeing where they . . . ,” she faltered, her voice threatening to break again. “But when I think about it . . . that awful place, just a few miles beyond these woods, I feel as if the sight of it would tip me over the edge.”

Martha and Kitty exchanged worried glances. Martha opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Delphine was on her feet. “I need to get back to the hospital,” she said.

“Are you sure?” Martha whispered. “Please don’t go if you don’t feel up to it. I can go and tell Dr. Jankaukas you’re not well.”

Delphine shook her head. “I’ll be fine. I’d be far worse, sitting here doing nothing.”

“Why didn’t she tell us before?” Martha said, as she unlocked the door of the office. “How could she have lived with it all this time, not saying anything?”

“For the same reason as me, I suppose,” Kitty said. “If no one knows, they can’t remind you of it. Putting it into words makes it . . . real.”

“But bottling it up—that’s just as hard, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but telling someone doesn’t take away what you feel. She said she came to Seidenmühle to be close to her husband and her son. But wherever she is, she carries the grief with her. Whatever happens—whether she goes to Dachau or not—it won’t bring them back.”

There was an edge to Kitty’s voice; she sounded almost angry. She plonked down on the chair and grabbed a sheet of paper from one of the piles on the desk.

“Why don’t you take a break,” Martha said. “You’ve had one hell of a morning. This stuff can wait.”

“And do what?” Kitty huffed out a breath. “Go for a walk around the camp? Paddle my feet in the river? Pick wildflowers? Don’t you see? I’m the same as Delphine—I don’t want time to think! I just . . .” She broke off, burying her face in her hands. “God, I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “That was so rude of me. Unforgivable.”

Martha pulled the other chair around the desk and sat down beside her. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. You’ve worked so hard and handled an impossible situation so bravely. I don’t know how you’ve managed to keep a lid on your feelings all this time. Every day, you’re dealing with people who are desperate for news of their families—that must be torture.”

“I thought I could do it.” Kitty nodded. “It was that kid this morning. It made me feel so ashamed.”

“Ashamed? Of what?”

“Of not doing enough. I’ve felt that for years. Ever since the war started. If I’d tried harder, learned English quicker, I could’ve got my parents to Britain. I used to dream about writing to the prime minister. I’d fall asleep composing letters in my head.”

“You were so young,” Martha murmured. “It must have been terrifying, arriving in a foreign country, not knowing anyone, not speaking the language.”

“I was scared at the beginning,” Kitty replied. “By the end I felt angry—and guilty. I knew how lucky I was to have survived when so many people hadn’t, but the thought of what had probably happened to my parents . . .” She clenched her hands into fists. “I had a boyfriend in Manchester. He asked me to marry him. I told him I couldn’t do that until I’d found out about my mother and father. He thought I was a fool, to carry on hoping. He said I should just accept the fact that I was an orphan.”

“I guess he had his reasons,” Martha said. “But that’s a pretty cruel thing to say to someone you love.”

“That’s how he was,” Kitty said. “If I ever mentioned how hard it was, growing up in England without my family, he’d say something like ‘Everyone had a lousy childhood.’”

“It sounds to me as if he didn’t want to understand you.” Martha felt as if she were talking to her younger self. Kitty’s description of her boyfriend reminded her of Arnie. “Will you go back to him?”

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