“And I’ll be trapped in the attic. It’s going to be winter soon. I’ll freeze up there.”
The thought had already occurred to Audrey. “I hope we’ll be long gone before winter sets in.”
Ilse stared into the middle distance. “How did we get here?” she asked, and her eyes were glazed over, staring back in time at things she couldn’t change. “How did this happen? Why was it allowed to? How do they wield such power?”
“I don’t know,” Audrey said, with an ache deep in her heart. “I don’t know what we’ve become. It all happened so fast.”
“Except it didn’t, did it? And now… I’m going to die. Aren’t I? We all are.”
“I won’t let that happen,” Audrey said, reaching for Ilse’s hand. It was cold. “I’m not going anywhere without you.” There was no way she would, even if her father arrived on the doorstep and threw a net around her.
Ilse’s eyes shone. “Except I think you have to. How can it possibly be safe for you to work so close to those men? They’ll find us out, you know they will. They’ll learn you’re not what you say you are. Somehow, they know everything about everyone. They’re too powerful, Audrey. You have to go back to London.”
“I won’t. Not until we find a way to bring you with me.”
“I don’t think I can.”
“We’ll see what my father says, we’ll find a way—”
“That’s not what I mean,” Ilse said, fixing Audrey with a look. It was the face she made whenever she was about to say something Audrey would disagree with. “I’ve thought about almost nothing else, and I can’t leave without knowing what’s happened to Mama and Ephraim. I have to believe they’re still alive—until I know for sure that they aren’t. We don’t know how long they’ll be detained, or where.”
On holiday in Buchenwald. The words flashed in Audrey’s mind.
“We don’t know what’s going to happen next,” Ilse was saying. “But I can’t leave without them. What if they come back, and find me gone?”
“Ilse—”
“This is our home. I have to stay here until they come back.” She took a deep breath. “But you don’t.”
“Yes, I do. Ilse. How can you possibly survive in the attic without me here and with them living downstairs? How will you eat, drink, go to the toilet?” Her mind was already maneuvering around the minefield of problems in the distance, black as trees in a dark and unfamiliar forest.
“Audrey, be sensible—”
“No, you be sensible,” Audrey said. “I can’t leave you. I love you more than anything.” As she spoke the words, she found that she meant them more than ever. A strange sort of feeling trickled through her; at once heat and nervous chill, profound understanding and disorientation. She wanted to embrace Ilse, as they had so many hundreds of times before, but it felt different now. There was something electric in it, something that drew her in and terrified her in equal measure. She fought to shake the sensation. “I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”
Ilse’s eyes stayed on Audrey’s. “That’s what my father said too.”
Chapter 8
Kate
ALNWICK, ENGLAND | NOVEMBER 2010
Kate wakes suddenly, a long, shrill wail still hanging in the air in front of her.
“Kate,” a soft voice says. “It’s all right. You’re safe.”
She scrambles upright, panting. It’s dark. The only light comes from the moon streaming between a crack in the curtains. In the haze of confusion, she squints at the figure at the foot of her bed.
“Audrey? What—?”
Audrey comes closer, tentatively sits on the edge of the bed. “It’s all right. You were having a nightmare.”
Kate hesitates, then collapses onto her shoulder with a sob. Audrey stiffens a little, but holds her with one arm, a little awkwardly, as Kate cries out the leftover fear and shock. She hates the sensations that flood her body after her nightmares—first the fear, then the grief, then the twitch of nerves as the adrenaline dissipates. She hates what it means, what it dredges up for her again.
Every damn time.
Ozzie approaches the side of the bed, ears back, and Audrey gently extricates herself from Kate.
“I tried to reassure him,” she says, “but dogs are such empathetic creatures, aren’t they? We really don’t deserve them.”
“Oh, Oz. I’m sorry. Come here, buddy.”
He leaps up onto the bed, gently nuzzles Kate’s arm. She strokes his fur. Outside, it’s still raining; she can hear it drumming against the roof above them.
“Here, watch your eyes.” Audrey tugs the chain on the bedside lamp. “Things are always far more frightening in the dark.”
“This is so embarrassing. Did I wake you?” Kate asks. Her eyes feel puffy.
“Yes,” Audrey says. “You were quite loud, but I go to bed so late these days, anyway.”
Kate presses a hand against her clammy forehead. “I’m sorry, again. Please, go back to bed. I’m fine.”
Audrey studies her. “You don’t look fine.”
The scene is still flickering behind Kate’s eyes. She’s having difficulty shaking it.
