Page 3 of Winter's End
“Quickly, then,” she said.
Annemarie scowled. “You heard the air raids last night…”
Evi nodded.
“More holes in the streets, and the guards pay no mind. They scare me, those Germans. I hate them.”
“You are young, innocent, and not Jewish, Annemarie. They are not apt to bother with you.”
“Still. I hate them.”
“There is reason to hate them. Just don’t be shouting it about.”
The first bell sounded from the brick-fronted schoolhouse looming just ahead of them, small clusters of students jostling toward the entrance.
“Walk faster,” Evi said. “We’ll be late.”
With school buildings all over Haarlem commandeered by the Nazis, the school once meant only for upper-level students now took up the overflow of younger children with nowhere else to go. AnnMarie hung back the last few yards.
Sophie Van der Oost, in her old blue corduroy jumper, gestured wildly near the entrance. “Evi, you are nearly late.”
“I know. I did not sleep well last night – and Annemarie slowed me down.”
“Who can sleep with sirens blaring – and bombs going off half the night?”
The second bell sounded as they stepped into the building. Annemarie took off down the hall.
“Did you hear?” Sophie lowered her voice. “The Germans are cutting gas usage to two hours a day!”
Evi shrugged. Mam had told her so last night.
“How are we to keep warm with winter coming on?”
“Likely they will cut the power again as well.”
Sophie groaned.
“Shh. Keep your voice down. There are spies everywhere. Even here.”
She hoisted her bookbag over her shoulder and hurried down the hall, wondering why she bothered when classes were hit-and-miss at best and surely there was more important work she could be doing...
ZOE
It had been a busy morning. By half past eleven, Dr. Zoe Visser had treated an ear infection in a squirmy little beagle pup, diagnosed kidney failure in a cat with a distended stomach, and performed emergency surgery to repair the hind leg of a little dachshund who hadn’t been fast enough to get past the wheels of a moving car.
The dachsie was resting comfortably and would likely be fine, Zoe reflected, scrubbing out of the petkliniek’sOR. Medications were hard to come by these days, but the cat was young and otherwise healthy enough to survive, and perhaps even to reverse the kidney failure.
In all, the outcomes had been mostly positive, and she was more than ready for her lunch break. Shrugging off her white jacket, she slipped into the old gray coat she had taken with her to university.
“I will be back in an hour, Lise,” she told the receptionist.
“Not a problem,” the girl said. “Short of another emergency, no appointments until one, and Dr. Mulder should be back soon from Amsterdam. He went in this morning for supplies.”
Zoe paused, pulling a woolen cap over tawny curls. She had not been aware that Daan had gone to Amsterdam. There would likely be work for her to do tonight.
...
Walking into the wind, she put her hands in her pockets and made her way past a deserted playground to the other end of thestadsplein, the heels of her practical black oxfords sounding dully on the cobblestones. She walked quickly, past the frankly appraising stares of the SS officers standing about, and turned into a market street hastily put together after the Nazis had commandeered the old market hall.
