Upstairs, Audrey found Ilse in her bedroom, sitting on the edge of her bed, staring dreamlike into the cold fireplace. Her dark hair fell into little damp tentacles over her broad shoulders, and her face was flushed from the hot water.
Audrey set the tray on the bedside table and went to Ilse. She wrapped her arm around her, pulling her close. The spell Ilse had been under finally broke, and she began to sob once more, pouring out her grief into Audrey’s shoulder as the tea grew cold and the room dark.
“Mama was right,” Ilse said finally, taking a shaky breath. “We never should have gone.”
“No, we shouldn’t have,” Audrey whispered. “And it’s all my fault. I’m so sorry.”
“It was my—” Ilse coughed, clearing the phlegm in her throat. “My father’s decision, Audrey. Not yours. You went to buy a dress. You didn’t ask us to join you. We all came willingly. I just wanted to feel normal for an afternoon. That’s no fault of yours. But why did they shoot him?”
“I don’t know. We didn’t see what happened beforehand. I heard him say something about shopping not being a crime. It could have been nothing at all. They can do whatever they want, can’t they? Maybe they just wanted a fight.”
Ilse sat up straighter. “But why are we in this fight? What will become of us?”
Audrey wasn’t sure if by us Ilse meant the pair of them, or Germany’s Jews. Maybe both. But Audrey had no answer for any of it.
She stood and turned on a few of the lights. They both blinked as their eyes adjusted. The bright light felt incongruous with what was sure to be the darkest day of their lives. But it relieved Audrey in a way, and she hoped that perhaps the light might help them see things a little clearer.
“What do we do now?” Ilse asked, voicing Audrey’s thoughts as she sat down again next to her. She hadn’t wanted to be the one to bring up the urgency of their circumstances when Ilse’s grief was so fresh, and was grateful for the segue.
“In the short term, we’re going to need money,” she said. “For electricity, coal, groceries. Do you have access to your father’s account?”
“I—I don’t think so. Mama did, but…” Ilse trailed off. “And you don’t have your own money either, do you?”
“No.” Ira had held funds from Audrey’s father in trust, paying her tuition at the konservatorium and doling out an allowance. “You’ll need to come back to London with me. It’s the only—”
“I can’t. We aren’t allowed to travel, remember? Not legally, anyway. Hitler’s made it impossible for us to go anywhere except by his own orders.” She choked on the last word.
Ruth’s and Ephraim’s names lingered, unspoken, in the beat of silence that stretched between them. Ilse’s grief was deep, as was Audrey’s, for the loss of Ira, but his death also posed a massive problem for their survival.
“I’ll write to my father,” Audrey said. “For a start. He might know someone who can help. In the meantime, maybe there’s another way for him to send money.”
“He’s going to tell you to come home. He might even try to come fetch you.”
Audrey gripped Ilse’s hands. “I know. But I won’t leave you. Not now. Not like this.”
Ilse said nothing.
“I think you should try to eat something. I brought toast and—” Audrey stopped, her ears pricking at a noise in the distance. “Did you hear that?”
“What?”
“I thought I heard something. A shout.”
“I don’t know,” Ilse said, sounding drained.
Audrey strained her ears again, but all she could hear was the ticking of the clock. She shook her head, then went to the tray on the bedside table. The pile of magazines was still stacked there. Only days before, they had sat here perusing them, irritated by Ephraim’s interruption. What Audrey wouldn’t give to see him climb down from the attic now, mischief sparkling in his eyes. In the span of an afternoon, their lives were set on an entirely different course.
“So,” said Ilse dully, taking Audrey’s proffered plate of toast. Her hair was beginning to dry, curling up at the ends. “What do we do for money right now, before we hear back from your father?”
Audrey had been thinking about this as she made the tea. Any job she might be qualified for—a salesgirl, probably—would barely put food on the table for the pair of them. She understood now, more than ever, that women’s financial dependence on men was a prison. It wasn’t just unfair. It could be catastrophic. She steeled herself. “Well… I was wondering if we could sell some things. I don’t have any jewellery or anything, but—”
“My mother does.”
“Yes.” Audrey felt anguished at the thought. “Or your father’s books—”
“No.” Ilse’s tone was firm. “Not the books. Not…” Her breath hitched. “Not yet.”
She was quiet for a while. Audrey thought about Ira, wondered where his body had been taken, and fought back her own tears. He was such a good man. A second father to her.
“But what happens when Mama and Ephraim return?” Ilse said finally. “She’ll be devastated, won’t she?”
Audrey lowered the bite of bread that was halfway to her mouth. “I suppose she will find it to have been… resourceful,” she said. “Will she not just be overjoyed to be reunited? I can’t see her being angry at you for doing what you must to survive.”
The family had never discussed this possibility. Ira had been too optimistic. It seemed foolish now that they hadn’t talked about what to do in the event any of them were arrested, let alone killed. But Ira had been steadfast in the hope that things would get better. It was a harsh lesson.
The abduction had been so violent and chaotic, right in the aftermath of Ira’s murder. But perhaps Ruth’s and Ephraim’s detention would be over in short order. An intimidation attempt to incite fear and acquiescence. It was possible. But a dark voice inside Audrey reminded her that that type of optimism had already burned them. They should prepare for the worst, she thought, though she couldn’t bring herself to say that to Ilse.
“Where are they, do you think?” Ilse asked.
Audrey inhaled deeply. “I assume at one of those holding centres your father was talking about. Or these ghettos that have sprung up, like that one near the border with Poland.”
“But how do we find out?” Ilse set her plate aside, then rubbed her temples. “I can’t even think straight.”
By the time they finished eating, it was mid-evening. Audrey took the tray downstairs and did the washing up whilst Ilse went across the hall to her parents’ room to peruse Ruth’s jewellery. When Audrey returned, Ilse was standing in front of her own dresser, fingering a simple silver pendant necklace that was now slung around her neck. In front of her lay several sets of sapphire and ruby earrings, a diamond bracelet and necklace set, two spectacular emerald broaches, three gold rings, and some reichsmarks.
“I’ve collected everything except the pearl necklace and her wedding ring. She was wearing those today.” Ilse’s voice was weak. “And this”—she touched the pendant—“was the first piece of jewellery Papa gave her. It’s not as valuable as the others. They were younger, not as well established as now.” She forced a smile, which Audrey attempted to return.
“She’ll be glad you saved that, I think.”
