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His Majesty's Hope(82)

By:Susan Elia MacNeal


“I’m not sure if she’s working today.”

“Would you be able to check, please? It’s a family emergency.”

Oh, it really is a “family” emergency, Elise.

There was an interminable wait, and then Maggie heard a voice that made her weak with relief. “Hallo?”

“Elise! This is Margareta—Margareta Hoffman?”

“Of course!”

“You remember how you said I could call if I needed anything?”

“Mein Gott! Are you hurt?” Elise’s voice, warm and reassuring, poured from the receiver.

“No. But I need you to get me inside the hospital. I can explain later.”

There was a silence so long that Maggie feared the other woman had hung up. The line crackled. “Meet me at the delivery entrance,” Elise said finally. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”


As Maggie crossed Hannoversche Straße in the nearly unbearable heat, she heard a voice. “Stop!”

Slowly, as though she were achy and arthritic, she turned around.

It was a police officer. He was young, blond, pockmarked. Could he be older than fourteen? Too young for the Eastern Front, Maggie realized. “Show me your papers!” he ordered.

Maggie kept her head down. She prayed her limp, gray hair and humpback fooled him, but she knew her face would betray her. Still, do young people ever really look in the eyes of the old? Her breath came faster.

With gloved hands, she pulled up her purse and fumbled at the catch. Maggie hoped it looked like tremors from old age. She knew the SS had been alerted. But the local police? Was this a random stop, or were they actually looking for her specifically?

It seemed to take forever to get the catch open. “Oh, never mind,” the officer said, finally, watching her struggle. “Sorry, gnädige Frau. Have a good day.”

“Danke,” Maggie managed without looking up, grateful for the wide brim of her hat.

She took several shaky breaths to compose herself, and then shuffled on.


Exactly as she’d promised, Elise arrived at Charité’s delivery entrance, out of breath from running.

“Mein Gott!” she murmured, and put one hand over her heart. Maggie knew how she must look—ashen, shaken, wild-eyed. Not to mention gray-haired and humpbacked.

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I’m in a bit of trouble …”

Elise looked around to see that no one was watching them. She put her arm around Maggie’s shoulders, as though to help the old woman. “Come with me. For God’s sake, keep your head down.”

Maggie shuffled with Elise through back corridors until they reached an emergency stairwell. The two women climbed to the door that Elise and Frieda had propped open to the roof.

“We’ll stay here, out of sight,” Elise told her. Exhausted, Maggie sank down to sit, back against the wall, finding momentary relief in a small rectangle of shade. Elise followed suit.

“I would never have come here if I didn’t feel I had no other option,” Maggie said. “But the truth is, I need somewhere to hide. And I thought that, maybe, you could hide me—and perhaps help me find a way out of Germany.”

“What’s wrong?” Elise’s once round and rosy face was now all shadowed angles and planes.

Maggie felt the stabbing pain of guilt. How many innocent people would she entangle in her trouble? “The less you know about it, the better. Again, I never would have come here if I felt there were any other choice—”

“Did Father Licht send you?” Elise interrupted.

“Who?” Maggie was confused. Who was Father Licht? “No.”

She shook her head. “I just thought that—Well, you’ve been so kind to me …” And you’re my half sister …

“Did Frieda tell you about me?”

Maggie’s brows furrowed. “Frieda?”

“It doesn’t matter. All right, I don’t know if I can get you out, but I can certainly hide you. We can cut and dye your hair—”

“No,” Maggie insisted. “I must leave Germany, but not because I’m a Jew.” In English, she added, “You see, I don’t actually belong here. I’m British.”

Elise gaped at Maggie. “Nein,” she exclaimed. “Nein!” Her face had gone pale.

“It’s true,” Maggie insisted.

Then, to Maggie’s astonishment, Elise started to laugh, golden and sweet, punctuated with hiccups. “No!” she gasped, trying to catch her breath. “No! This is a joke! Surely one of the girls at the hospital sent you, as some kind of prank …”

“I’m sorry,” Maggie said. “But it’s true. I know it sounds crazy, but …”