Page 82 of The Pianist's Wife
Fred nodded. ‘I think it would be best.’
She did as he suggested, quickly stripping out of the uniform and carefully taking Hans’ letter from her pocket as Fred held the clothes out to her, but it wasn’t until she was dressed that she realised she would have to wear the too-big men’s boots that she’d worn ever since they’d left the camp.
‘I don’t have a good feeling about this,’ she began.
But Fred held up his hand. ‘We’ve fallen on hard times, there’s nothing unusual about having ill-fitting shoes, not during a war.’
They were both so fatigued that they left it at that, and Amira tucked her discarded clothes against the base of the tree, hoping that no one would see them. Her pulse ignited as she imagined the dogs finding them, and how quickly their location would be discovered, but she refused to let herself think any more about what could happen.Think about seeing Gisele again. Think about Otto. Think about finally making it away from here.
‘Amira,’ Fred said, taking her hand and hurrying her along. ‘They’re leaving, look.’
He was right. Up ahead, a horse was moving painfully slowly, pulling a wagon, and as they got closer, walking as quickly as they could, she could see how old and thin the horse was, his legs looking as slow and tired as hers felt.
‘Hello there,’ Fred called out, seeming to have a burst of energy that surprised her as much as the fact he was engaging with the strangers. ‘Are you off to town?’
The couple were elderly, and the old woman looked Amira up and down, shaking her head at the state of her. Or at least that was what Amira imagined she was frowning at.
‘We’re going to stay with family,’ the old man said. ‘But we can take you to Weimar if that’s where you’re headed?’
Fred smiled, limping a few more steps. ‘Thank you for the kind offer, but we’ll be fine. I was only hoping that you wouldn’t mind us resting here on your property, against your tree.’
The old man waved at them as he encouraged his horse on, slapping the reins against his bony rump. ‘Rest away, you won’t trouble anyone.’
‘Fred,’ Amira whispered. ‘They offered us a ride.’
‘Yes,’ he said, leaning close. ‘But if word of our escape is circulating, we’ll surely be found in Weimar.’
‘But—’
‘They’re packed up to visit someone, they could be gone for days or even weeks,’ he said. ‘Which means that we can stay here while they’re gone.’
‘You mean for us to break into their home?’ she asked.
‘That’s precisely what I mean,’ he said. ‘We can rest and wait this out, pray they have some food stored away, and then we can begin our journey home.’
‘I don’t even know where home is anymore,’ Amira said, as tears began to slide down her cheeks.
Fred took her into his arms. ‘Neither do I, Amira. But what I do know?’ He wiped her cheeks with his thumb. ‘Home will be wherever our baby is. And that means we do anything we have to, to survive, even if it means breaking into this home to give us somewhere to rest and hide for the next few days. We have to believe we’ll be forgiven for our sins after everything we’ve been through.’
‘For the baby,’ she murmured.
‘For the baby,’ Fred repeated.
And so they sat in the shade of the tree until the horse and wagon were well out of sight, before Fred got to his feet and set about forcing his way inside.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Amira stared at her reflection in the mirror, barely able to believe it was her own face looking back at her. She lifted a hand and traced across her cheek and down to her jaw, before running her fingers through her straggly hair. Fred was downstairs searching for food, and she’d come up to find something warmer to wear, as well as to wash the grime from her face and try to find a brush to run through her hair.
She could see from her reflection that she needed much more than a wash cloth and a brush to make her appear respectable though. No wonder the old woman had given her such a sad look.
But what took her most by surprise was her shape as she turned in front of the mirror, noticing how much her stomach had grown and how much lower it appeared now. Up until recently, it had seemed almost impossible to believe, but staring at herself now, in clothes that hugged a little too readily to her frame, it was clear that she was well along in her pregnancy.
‘Amira?’ Fred called out.
She sighed one last time at her appearance and went to the stairs, slowly making her way down.
‘I’ve found some bits and pieces, enough to stop us from starving, but—’
