Catching the Wind(58)

Wood and water we have aplenty, but food is scarce, the boxes coming infrequently now. At least with Frau’s coupons we have something to eat. And with the matches we are warm.

I tried to follow Frau to town once but realized I couldn’t go. Can you imagine? Frau has new clothing, but mine is tattered and stained, like I’ve been digging through cinders. And I smell worse than Roger on that night we came to this place that can hardly be regarded as a home. The people in town would run me out, as if I were a wild cat.

Bombs fell last night, not far from here. I looked outside for flames, like I’d seen back in Breydon Court, but there was nothing except black.

Were Hitler’s men dropping bombs nearby? Or was it the British, trying to bomb our house?

Herr says Germany is winning the war, though we have no other news of it except when Hitler’s men come.

I pray the good men win.

I pray they let me go free.

I pray I never have to talk again.

DECEMBER 1942

Today I turned thirteen.

I took Dietmar’s knight into the forest and sat on a log by the river, surrounded by the company of birds. I pretended to eat cake and toast myself with wine. Pretended I was back home under my father’s magnolia tree, wishing like Cinderella that everyone I loved was celebrating with me.

It’s been more than two years now since Dietmar and I left home. I can no longer remember Papa’s face, but if he were here, he would toast to my thirteen years. He would say he was proud of me. And Dietmar would carve me something special to commemorate the day.

Dietmar’s not coming for me. I know that now. And even if I ran from here, I wouldn’t know how to find him.

If he’s still alive, Dietmar would be fifteen. A man.

I pray that my friend is safe, wherever he is. That he’s warm and fed.

That someone celebrated his fifteenth birthday with him.

JANUARY 1943

The wind changed again today, blowing from the east.

And I think, perhaps, that I’ve found a new friend.





Chapter 34




Breydon Court, January 1943

“Oh, Eddie,” Lady Ricker sighed as she rested back on the satin pillows, her curls coiling around her face. “I must get dressed for the party.”

He twirled her dark hair in his fingers, examining the lace on her negligee as he leaned on one arm. “But you look smashing just the way you are.”

She laughed as she always did when he complimented her. “Admiral and Mrs. Drague will be expecting lipstick and jewels for New Year’s.”

“Admiral Drague is always expecting something.”

She traced her finger along the edge of his chin. “Thanks to you, our little operation on the hill was successful again.”

“What did they take out?”

“The barracks and at least two hangars.”

Lady Ricker had assured him that he would be rewarded handsomely for his loyalty and work. Still, he’d made five extra photographs and hidden them under the floor for collateral, so he could prove his allegiance after the war. Just in case her ladyship tried to cross him.

After kissing him, Lady Ricker inched to the opposite side of the bed, taking a cigarette from her gilded case. “How is Olivia making out?”

“I don’t want to talk about her.”

She lit the cigarette. “It’s a dreadful shack,” she said, clearly ignoring his desire not to discuss his wife. “I fear for her health.”

“She’s not happy, but she’s well enough.”

She took a long drag of the cigarette and the smoke settled over the bed. “You must work to keep her happy, Eddie.”

“I send her food and supplies, but nothing pleases her.”

“I will have Cook make some nice cakes to take with you when you visit this weekend.”

“I wasn’t planning a visit—”

“Is Olivia still caring for the girl?”

“Of course.” Except the girl wasn’t so much of a girl anymore. Over the past months, she’d developed into a woman. A pretty one, even with her tattered clothing.

Perhaps next time he’d bring a frock for her instead of Olivia. Perhaps she would show him a little appreciation for his efforts.

Lady Ricker crushed her cigarette in a tray. “We must keep the girl happy too.”

“I will ensure her happiness.”

“Very noble of you.”

“I have another job—”

The telephone interrupted her, and when she answered it, Eddie heard a man speaking rapidly on the other end, saw her face pale.

“How long ago?” she demanded before hanging up the phone.

“Who was that?” he asked.

She reached for her robe. “You must leave here.”

“But the job—”

She waved her hand. “We’ll discuss it later.”

He wasn’t worried. Her bedroom door was locked, and the corridor would be clear. Lady Ricker demanded all of her staff stay away while she enjoyed her afternoon naps.

When the doorknob rattled, Lady Ricker swore. Eddie swiped his trousers from off a chair, trying to devise some sort of story if Lord Ricker had returned early from London or the nanny needed something yet again for the baby boy.

But a young woman glided into the bedroom, dangling a key in one hand. She eyed his bare chest, laughing. “Well, hello there.”