Page 83 of The Pianist's Wife
His voice stuttered and she turned to look past him, to see what had stopped him. A military vehicle was coming along the road.
Oh my God.
‘Oh Fred,’ she said, her voice catching in her throat. ‘They’re here.’
‘Quickly,’ he said, ‘take off your cardigan to make your pregnancy as obvious as possible, and I’ll go and change into whatever clothes I can find. I’ll slip out the back door and they can discover me working outside.’
‘You expect me to answer the door? To do this on my own?’
Fred stared into her eyes. ‘You can do this, Amira. There are only a handful of guards who even know what you look like, and they won’t be looking for a pregnant farm wife and her land-toiling husband.’
Amira focused on keeping her breath steady as she waved Fred away, going to the door and forcing herself to open it as the vehicle rolled up the driveway and two guards jumped out. They looked around before marching straight towards her.
‘Good morning,’ she called brightly, as if there were nothing unusual about having two SS men approaching the house.
‘We’re looking for a man and a woman. Are you the only person here?’
She placed her hand on her back and waddled forward, as if each step was difficult for her. ‘It is me and my husband. He’s working in the field.’
‘Husband?’ the man asked, as if to indicate that a woman of her age should have a husband off fighting.
‘He was badly injured and is home recuperating, but he cannot help himself, not with my parents away and so much work to be done.’
‘Do you mind if we take a look inside?’
Amira heard a noise behind her and knew that she needed to buy Fred more time. ‘I’d hate to think someone was using our farm to hide on,’ she said, thinking quickly. ‘Would you check the outbuilding over there first, just to be sure? I’ll wait here and keep lookout.’
It seemed to work, and by the time they were on their way back from searching, Fred appeared from the side of the house, limping terribly and leaning against a pitchfork as they called out to him. To her great surprise, after a quick look inside they were gone before she knew it, dust billowing up behind their vehicle as she collapsed against the door frame and Fred came rushing over to her.
‘They’re not coming back,’ he said, and he sank to his haunches beside her and wrapped her in his arms. ‘We’re going to make it, Amira. I promise you we are.’
And for the first time since Hans had mentioned their escape, whispering the plan to her as they’d walked side by side, she actually believed it. They were leaving Buchenwald behind them for good.Forever.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Berlin, April 1945
‘Amira?’ Gisele dropped the cup she was holding, coffee splashing all over her shoes and the floor as she stood in the doorway, staring back at them. ‘Oh my goodness, Amira! It’s truly you!’
Amira stepped forward and threw her arms around Gisele, tears streaming down her cheeks as she held on to her friend. They hadn’t gone so long without seeing each other since they were children – it had been months.
‘Quickly, get inside before anyone sees you.’
Amira’s lips were cracked and dry, and she moistened them with her tongue as she reached out to hold on to Gisele. Her legs felt ready to buckle, they were so tired from walking from the train station after everything they’d endured, but just seeing Gisele made everything they’d been through worth it. There had been so many times when she’d thought she’d never see her again, that they’d never make it, that someone would see through her stolen clothes or Fred’s dramatic limp, and question what they were doing or where they were going. But everyone had looked upon him with pity, an injured soldier clinging to his young, pregnant wife, and they’d somehow arrived safely back in the city.
‘I can’t believe it,’ Gisele gasped, wrapping her tightly in her arms once they were inside the house. ‘And Fred. Oh my goodness, Fred! I barely recognised you in that uniform.’
Gisele let go of her to hug Fred, looking between them in amazement.
‘What are you doing here? How, I mean—’
‘We escaped,’ Amira said, clearing her throat and trying to speak louder. ‘You haven’t heard from Hans?’
It had been five days since they’d left Buchenwald, and she’d spent much of that time worrying about what might have happened to him. She couldn’t stop thinking about the way they’d parted, the way he’d spoken almost as if it were the end.
‘I knew he was doing everything he could for you, but I haven’t heard from him in days.’
‘We don’t know who’s looking for us or whether we are safe to come here, but,’ Amira said, trying to catch her breath, ‘we didn’t know where else to go. I hope you don’t mind.’
