She set the rucksack full of food on the table. “Look, love,” she said, feigning cheer. “Finally, something decent to eat!”
“I don’t want any damned Nazi food,” Ernst said, shirtsleeves rolled up, sorting through envelopes. “I’d rather starve.”
“And we just may.” Both Ernst and Frieda had become gaunt in the last few years, due to fear as well as bad nutrition. “Well, I’m not going to let this go to waste,” Frieda declared, peeling back the foil on the chocolate bar and taking a greedy bite. The intense creamy sweetness nearly caused her to tear up—it had been so long since she’d had candy.
“The Belgian storekeeper that bar was stolen from was probably shot,” Ernst said. “Doesn’t that bother you at all?”
“Well, he may be dead, but I’m still alive,” Frieda countered through her mouthful. “And if I throw out this beautiful chocolate, who wins? It doesn’t affect the shopkeeper either way.”
Ernst stood up from his wobbly chair and walked over to Frieda, giving her a gentle kiss on the cheek. Then he rifled through the bag. “Oh, and I see she gave you ham. How thoughtful, to give a Jew ham.”
“You’re lucky to be eating at all.” Frieda was exhausted and losing patience. “They now expect two weeks’ worth of rations to last for three. When the war’s over, we can keep kosher again.”
Ernst didn’t want to argue further. “Yes, of course,” he said. “I’m sorry. I know you’re doing your best.” Then, “I have a joke for you.”
Frieda didn’t smile. “Really?”
“What do you call one Englishman?”
She cocked one pale eyebrow. “I don’t know, what?”
“An idiot. What do you call two Englishmen?”
“No idea.”
“A club. And what do you call three Englishmen?”
Frieda sighed in disapproval. “Oh, Ernst.”
“An empire!” When Ernst smiled, he looked like less of a gaunt old man and more of the dashing young doctor with whom Frieda had fallen in love. Her lips twitched.
“Now, what do you call one German?” he asked.
“Stop, Ernst.” She started giggling.
“A damned fine man.” He held up two fingers. “What do you call two Germans?”
“Stop!” She clapped her hands over her lips, as though trying to cram the rare laughter back inside.
“A putsch,” he said, grabbing her by the waist, pulling her close. He held up three fingers. “And three Germans?”
Tears were rolling down her cheeks. “Stop! Stop! Stop!” she cried.
“A war!” he thundered, spinning her around in his arms.
After a few moments of laughter, Frieda began to hiccup. “This is your fault,” she scolded, shaking a finger at him.
He kissed her. When they broke apart, she looked down at what he was doing. “More letters?”
He nodded. “Do you know what they call me now? Der Schreckensträger. ‘Carrier of horror.’ It has a certain ring to it.”
“As long as no letter comes for you. You’ll get through it. All we need to do is survive. I look Death in the face every day and say, ‘Not today, Death. Not today, you bastard.’ ” She took another bite of chocolate. “So, no letters for you, right? Because we’re still married. And I’m having Elise speak with her mother.”
“Yes, darling,” Ernst told his wife. “Of course I’m still safe.”
Chapter Three
Maggie arrived, breathless, at the glossy green door of Hugh’s garden-level flat in Kensington. It had been months since they had last seen each other, and all she knew was how much she wanted to be in his arms again.
She knocked and the door swung open, as though he had been waiting. They stared at each other, reality piercing memory. Then they embraced, Maggie smelling shaving soap and bay rum cologne as she kissed his warm neck.
Finally, they drew apart. “Look at you,” Maggie said, as she walked into his flat and set her handbag on the entryway table, then took off her hat.
“Look at you!” he countered. “All that country air’s been good for you. Would you like a drink?”
“I’d love one, thank you.”
Maggie slipped off her pumps and sat down on the sofa, tucking her stockinged feet up under her. Hugh went into his efficiency kitchen and came back with two glasses of gin.
“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Maggie told him. “I know it’s fast, but it’s almost a full moon, after all.”
“I can’t ask you what you’re doing.” Hugh smoothed back her hair, then took out the hairpins, one by one.