Martha wondered where she could get the legal advice she needed to support Jadzia. Perhaps someone at UNRRA headquarters in Munich would be able to help. It was too late to call now—but she’d have to get hold of someone before the army investigator arrived.
Martha lay awake most of the night. Every time she closed her eyes, she relived the scene on the riverbank. The little girl had been so perfect. She should have lived. They should have realized what a devastating effect the news about Frank being married would have on Jadzia. They should have moved her into one of the cabins immediately. Then they could have kept a closer watch on her and . . .
“Can’t sleep?” Delphine’s voice whispered to her across the gap between the beds. “Neither can I. Shall I make us both a hot drink?”
Downstairs, the women went over it all again. “She seemed so calm last time I examined her,” Delphine said. “No one could possibly have guessed what she was planning to do. We can’t blame ourselves for what happened.”
“But I feel guilty,” Martha replied. “If I live to be a hundred, I think I’ll always feel there was something more I could have done.”
“I feel that way about my husband and my son.” Delphine cradled her coffee, a curl of steam rising from the mug. “I go over and over it in my head. The day they were arrested, I was in the hospital. I overheard one of the porters talking about Claude. I didn’t catch it all—just his name. I was busy with a patient, so I didn’t stop to ask questions. I found out later that someone on the ward had told the Germans that Claude was sheltering Allied airmen in the hospital. I kept thinking that if I’d called him after overhearing that conversation, he and Philippe might not have gone to the safe house. They wouldn’t have been arrested—and they might both have lived.”
Martha put her hand on Delphine’s arm. Whatever she said would be inadequate. Delphine would always carry that guilt, no matter how anyone tried to rationalize it.
“I talk to them all the time,” Delphine went on. “In the hospital, usually. Sometimes, I hear their voices, telling me what to do. I worry that I’m . . . you know . . .”
“Going a little crazy?” Martha gave a wry smile. “You’re not the only one. I often hear my grandma’s voice—usually when I’m about to do something stupid. She raised me after my parents died. We were very close.”
“How old were you? When they died?”
“Three,” Martha replied. “My mother died after giving birth to a baby—a little brother—who only lived a day longer than she did. My dad couldn’t take it; he shot himself.”
“My God,” Delphine murmured.
“I don’t really remember them. There was a photo by my bed, so I knew what they looked like, but I guess I never really felt they belonged to me.” Martha took a sip of coffee. “It was strange, the other day—when Kitty said she thought her mind had blanked out her parents’ faces because remembering would bring back the pain of that last glimpse she had of them—it made me think of how I used to turn that photograph of Mom and Dad around so I couldn’t see them. It felt like a bad thing to do, but I couldn’t bear them looking at me, because that would start me thinking about why they’d gone and died and left me behind.”
Delphine glanced up at the ceiling. “I worry about how Kitty’s going to cope if she gets bad news about her parents. In some ways she’s so tough—but it’s like she’s built a wall around her heart. She won’t let anyone in. Even when she was spilling it all out, she shied away when I tried to put my arm around her. Did you notice that?”
Martha nodded. “She seemed to let herself go a bit at the wedding though. She looked really happy when she was dancing, especially with Dr. Jankaukas.”
“Do you think there’s something going on there?” Delphine arched her eyebrows. “I thought he was getting rather fond of one of our new mothers next door: Anka—she’s very pretty.”
“Well, that shows how much I know.” Martha shrugged. “Kitty told me she had a boy back in England who wanted to marry her. I hope she doesn’t go back to him; he didn’t sound too nice.”
“She’s a lovely girl. She deserves someone special. Someone who understands what she’s suffered, and what she’s still got to contend with.”
“And in the meantime, she’ll have to make do with us.” Martha smiled as she said it, but the words had a hollow ring. She was thinking about Jadzia—her mind still reeling with the tragic outcome that could have been averted. She couldn’t escape the conclusion that it all came back to her own lack of awareness. Was she so wrapped up in herself that she failed to recognize the struggles of those around her? If the answer to that question was yes, then she shouldn’t have come here—these people would be better off without her.