“Yeah,” Kate says, pushing her red fringe up off her sweaty forehead, grateful for the moment to try to catch her breath. There’s much scuffling on the other end of the line, and Kate hears a door shut.
“Sorry, had to pop in somewhere quiet,” Sue says in a Scottish accent thicker than fog. “I had a look at yer CV. Lots of admin experience, I see. No hospitality.”
“That’s right. But I’m a fast learner. I—”
“Not a problem, just confirming. But you can manage things? Scheduling and ordering and the like? I see some of that here on your resume.”
“Yes, of course,” Kate lies, smooth as poured wax. She hadn’t done much as a basic phone receptionist at the insurance company, but she’s sure she could figure it out. And besides, who doesn’t polish up their CV nowadays? Enhance and exaggerate here and there to appear more experienced, more knowledgeable, more educated, more more more of whatever more they think an employer wants to see?
“And you’ve volunteered at an animal shelter?”
One hundred percent true. “Yes, quite regularly,” Kate says. “My dog Ozzie is a rescue and it’s a cause close to my heart.”
“So he’d be coming with you, then?”
“Yes, if that’s all right? I saw in the advert—”
“Yes, pets welcome and encouraged. We’ve got a wee terrier here. Yours is friendly with other dogs?”
“Absolutely.”
“Good.”
Kate half-expects Sue to ask to interview Ozzie.
“Now this is a live-in position, you’re aware.”
“Yes, I saw that.”
“Without putting too fine a point on it, it’s likely not the best environment for children. Do you—”
“No,” Kate says, an edge to her voice that she tries to file down as she continues. “Just me and my dog.”
“Jolly good then. Have you ever been up to this part of the country? A bit different here in the North than down in London.”
“I haven’t, no. But I’m looking to get away from London, actually. Time for a change.”
“Can be as good as a rest, can’t it?” Sue says. “Well, Kate, I reckon we should give it a go.”
Relief courses through Kate like warm water. “Brilliant, thank you!” She smiles with something that feels like a vestige emotion from a past life. Optimism, maybe.
“We’ll start with a probationary period and if all goes well, we’ll formalize the role. How soon can you be here?”
Kate thinks of all the boxes lined up against her bedroom wall, as ready as they’ll ever be. “I can be there tomorrow,” she says.
As her breath steadies, she leans against the treadmill and watches the contestants on the television show craft cakes that are truly a work of art. The judges dig in, excitement glowing on their faces like children at a birthday party as they taste-test the results of the competition. She looks at the layers of icing and reckons it would take at least two hours of running to burn off one piece of that extravagant cake.
It’s hard to outrun your bad decisions. But you can certainly try.
Chapter 3
Audrey
BERLIN, GERMANY | NOVEMBER 1938
That was lovely, Audrey,” Ruth said, glancing up from her embroidery. “What was it?”
Audrey turned on the piano stool. “I’m not sure, actually,” she said. “Just something I’m playing at.”
In addition to her assigned music, Audrey had been chipping away at a little piece of her own for a couple of months. The composition was simple and gentle, yet full of strength. She thought of Ilse when she played it, of her subtle courage and kindness. It at once uplifted and grounded her, like a warm drink. Once she finished it, she planned to give it to Ilse as a parting gift. But something was missing from it still. Audrey glanced over at Ilse, absorbed in her book.
“There’s a contradictory feel to it,” Ruth was saying with a smile. “I think it’s beautiful.”
Ruth was the player in the Kaplan family. She’d never had the opportunity to hone her skill like Audrey had, but she used to play all the time before little Michael died. His death had cut through so many layers of Ruth, scarring her very bones. She didn’t touch the piano anymore, but enjoyed Audrey’s entertainment from a distance, and was pleased to see the instrument used again. It was a rare honey oak baby grand that Ira had commissioned for her.
“Does anyone need anything whilst I’m out today?” Audrey asked, changing the subject.
Lately she tried to run errands for the Kaplans whenever she could, to save Ruth or Ira having to venture out unnecessarily.
“Where are you off to, Audrey?” Ira asked from his seat in one of the large wing chairs. Ephraim was across from him, a chessboard between them.
Ephraim always won, and Audrey never knew whether Ira was in fact terrible at the game or wanted his son to experience a sense of achievement and victory that was—at least at the moment—unattainable to him in any other realm of his life. He was being homeschooled by Ruth now, so he didn’t even have his classmates to compete with in studies, or at recess.
“To the shops,” Audrey replied, a little embarrassed. “I need a dress for my recital. I don’t really have anything smart enough, unfortunately.”
With Ilse’s help, Audrey had narrowed down the style she wanted, but she was miserable that her friend couldn’t join her for the excursion. She felt no small measure of shame at the fact that she could still go about her business without fear of roundups by the Gestapo, or spot checks on her identification papers. She could continue with her studies as though nothing had changed. Audrey had to believe that Ira was right, that this was a terrible season for Jews and Germany. That once Hitler was no longer in power, things would return to normal, and Audrey might come back to Berlin. Surely this climate, these politics, couldn’t be what the people truly wanted.
