Page 68 of Hearts of Resistance
He smiled and she wondered if they were actually so different. Sometimes she thought that not every member of the Nazi Party could be so terrible. Surely many of them had joined merely to blend in and save their families, while knowing in their hearts that what was happening was wrong. But then she thought of Sophia, the secrets she’d confided in her about finding her mother that day, the way her father refused to spare even his once-beloved wife when she was found to be keeping Jews safe in their home.
‘Ah,’ he said, nodding and gesturing to her face. ‘You are so beautiful, you must be very successful.’
Rose laughed and raised her hand to hide her mouth, glancing away coyly. She needed to play the game, and Roseanne was single and would surely be attracted to a handsome young German paying her so much attention.
‘You must miss home,’ she said, careful to say the words slowly so she didn’t give away her knack for languages. ‘Are you, ah, married?’
It was Kurt grinning this time. ‘No,’ he replied. ‘No wife. And you?’ He glanced at her hands, no doubt looking for a ring. She’d entrusted her wedding ring to Hazel while she was gone, and as she rubbed her thumb across her fingers, she felt bare without the weight of it there.
‘No, no wife,’ she said, knowing she’d made a mistake but expecting him to laugh at her mistake.
He did, grinning at her and shaking his head.‘Husband,’he said slowly, ‘you would have ahusbandif you were married.’
She giggled and hated how easy she found it to be silly and immature. She was fortunate that she looked so youthful and could pretend to be unmarried and in her early twenties.
The train slowed then, suddenly jerking, and Kurt threw his arm out to stop her from shooting forward. His hand brushed her and he smiled and pulled back.
‘It was lovely meeting you, Roseanne,’ he said as the train groaned.
It wouldn’t be long before they were at the station, and she knew he’d have work to do now. He might be about to check identity cards and passes again, perhaps search bags, and she gritted her teeth as she made herself smile back at him. It was a dangerous liaison to be having, flirting with Kurt, but it would have been even more dangerous if she’d ignored him and been rude when he’d clearly been so interested.
‘I hope to see you again,’ she said, shaking her head at how stilted her words sounded. It pained her to speak a language she knew well so poorly, but she was enjoying playing her character, like an actress performing on a stage.
‘Let me,’ he said, taking the coat from her shoulders when she leaned forward, before putting it back on himself. He bent down and reached for her hands, nodding. ‘At least you warmed a little.’
She nodded. ‘Thank you.’
As the train continued to slow, Kurt stepped sideways and reached up, his hands closing over the handle of her case before she could protest. Instead she sat frozen, waiting, certain that he was about to open it – or worse, that the handle would give way and her case would fall open, the pieces she was carrying spilling all over the floor.
‘Here,’ he said, passing it to her.
‘Thank you,’ she said again, ready to pass out as her fingers clenched the handle and she pulled it closer to her body.
He gave her one last look, his mouth still tilted up to make his entire face light up, and then finally walked away.
Rose had thought she was tough. She thought she had nothing left to live for and nothing to be scared about. But Kurt had shown her how close she’d come to being found out, how easy it would have been for him to ask to look inside her case. And then she would have found out just how easily the charming young German could turn into a cruel captor, of that she was absolutely certain.
Rose prepared to stand, holding on as she rose, legs frozen cold, her toes locked and aching as if she had frostbite. But she kept the most pleasant look on her face that she could muster and pushed through the pain. All she had to do was deliver the codes to the other cells and pick up the radio parts, make appearances at a couple of stores that were in the business of selling make-up to at least make her cover story look legitimate if anyone was observing her, and then get back on the train and return to the chateau.
Her role was clear and her job simple so long as she wasn’t stopped and searched. All she had to do now was convince everyone between here and there that she was indeed a glamourous young woman passionate about her job.
She might not feel glamourous anymore, but she certainly knew what it meant to be passionate about a job.
CHAPTER TWENTY
HAZEL
Hazel smiled at Harry and wished he didn’t make her pulse quicken with one brief glance and one very cute, dimpled smile.
‘I’m worried about you.’
She shook her head as he stared at her, his dimples disappearing into a frown.
‘Please don’t,’ she said quickly. ‘I made the decision to come here and I want to do what’s needed of me.’
He sighed, his smile slowly returning. ‘Where do they even find women like you?’
She shrugged. ‘There are plenty of women doing amazing things at home, too. When you get back, you’ll see.’
