Girl in the Blue Coat(51)

Ollie shakes his head. “They know everyone who works there, and they’re not bending any rules to let in new people now. Everything has changed since the Council members and their families are being called up.”

“What if we asked Walter?” Leo suggests. I know that Walter is the man who oversees the theater, who helps falsify papers for the children in the crèche.

Ollie’s voice is final. “No. This isn’t a resistance mission. This was us messing up. Our own idiocy. We’re not going to drag him into it until we try to fix it ourselves.”

“They are going to take the carriage to the train station,” Mina whispers. “I just know it. They never leave things behind in the theater; it’s too crowded there and they’re always looking to pack more people in. The carriage is going to the train station; you have to believe me.”

Sanne winces, then takes a deep breath and starts again. “Okay. So you are saying we would have to get the camera back, but not when it’s in the theater. We would have to get it when the transport leaves the theater, on the way to the station. And it would have to be a secret. And nobody could see us. Correct?”

“We’d be out after curfew,” Leo says. “So we’d need special papers, at least.”

“Or a disguise,” Sanne says. “A Gestapo uniform would be best—high-ranking enough to walk through the city after curfew without being questioned.”

“We can’t get one,” Ollie says shortly. “If we could, that plan might work. But we can’t. I know other resistance groups have stolen German uniforms to use for their operations, but we don’t know anybody who has one now, and we’re not going to be able to arrange a second secret operation to get one. Certainly not in the two days we have before the transport. Think of something else.”

“You’re all being stupid,” Mina says, shaking her head. “Of course there’s a way to get in the theater. I’m supposed to be in there right now. I was supposed to report for transport. So that’s what I’ll do. I’ll report for transport, and then once I’m inside, I’ll find the camera and I’ll destroy it.”

“And then you’ll be sent to a camp,” Ollie says quietly.

“And?”

“Mina—” Sanne begins.

“What?” she says fiercely, her voice breaking. “It’s my fault, no one else’s! Leo just said so. And you always talk about how the mission is more important than any one of us. So I’ll do it. I’ll turn myself in this afternoon.”

Sanne opens and closes her mouth again. Ollie buries his head in his hands, and Leo stares hard at the desk. Nobody says anything. Nobody has to. Mina’s offer is horrible, and it’s also the best option they have.

I clear my throat. “I can get one.”

It’s the first time I’ve spoken in this entire exchange. Everyone swivels toward me. There are so many things I have done wrong in this war. Starting with Bas, starting from the beginning. But all through it. The times I have known things were wrong and told myself the best thing to do was ignore it. “Mina doesn’t have to turn herself in. I can help you get the camera,” I continue. “But when I do, I want to also get Mirjam Roodveldt. I won’t ask any of you to help me with that part. I’ll take those risks myself; if I’m caught, I’ll say that I’m acting on my own.”

Nobody responds.

“You’re saying you need a uniform to get the camera,” I say finally. “I’m saying I know how to get a uniform.”





The second-to-last time I saw Elsbeth:

She was eighteen, I was seventeen, Bas was dead. She’d met her soldier by then. Her mother didn’t mind the relationship. Her parents supported the German occupation, though they weren’t obvious about it. It was a private, obsequious support.

It was six months after the invasion. My marks had plummeted, while the rest of the school tried to stagger on like everything was normal. Elsbeth was the only friend I still saw. She came over dutifully, every day, even while I stared at the wall and said nothing. She played with my hair, or told me the latest gossip, or brought random gifts that served no purpose other than to produce a shadow of a smile: A windup toy. A funny card. A lipstick in the ugliest shade of coral, which she smeared all over her mouth, puckering her lips and prancing around my room, telling me to kiss her.

One afternoon Elsbeth came over and sat on my floor, flipping through magazines she’d brought over, her latest effort to cheer me up. She was quieter than usual. I stared at my feet and Elsbeth smiled like a sphinx, like something had happened and she wanted me to guess what it was. Finally she couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Rolf loves me,” she said. “He told me yesterday, and I said it back.”

“No, you don’t,” I said automatically. “You don’t love him. You flirt with everyone.”

She pursed her lips, and I could tell she was gathering patience before responding. “I’ve flirted with enough boys to know the difference. I love Rolf. He wants to marry me. After the war, I’ll move back with him to Germany.”

“You can’t,” I told her, but even as I said it, I wasn’t sure what I was telling her she couldn’t do. Marry a German? Leave the country? Have somebody when I had nobody? Her words had bludgeoned me, bludgeoned even the parts of me I thought were already dead. How could she want to marry one of them? “You can’t, Elsbeth. You want me to be happy for you, but I can’t be. I can’t forgive you for loving the side that killed Bas.”