A Feather on the Water(79)

“If we’re going to pose, we’d better all have some of this.” Delphine poured out generous measures of whiskey. “Come on, girls—raise your glasses.”

“Merry Christmas!”

“Joyeux No?l!”

“Frohe Weihnachten!”

The flash left red blobs in front of Martha’s eyes. Charlie took another, just to be sure. Then he said he’d better check that everything was okay at the warehouse. He shot a look at Kitty, which she returned with the almost imperceptible arch of an eyebrow. Martha tried not to smile. They were trying so hard to hide the fact that they were crazy about each other—and doing a terrible job of it. She hoped that Kitty knew enough about men to be sensible. She’d never hinted to Martha at how far things had gone with Fred. Growing up without anyone to guide her, she must have learned about sex from the factory girls she worked with. Charlie seemed like a nice guy. But Martha had thought the same about Arnie in the early days. Should she take her to one side and have a word with her about men?

Glancing across the table at Kitty, it seemed a ridiculous notion. She looked so glamorous and self-assured: a young woman who knew how to take care of herself and would probably burst out laughing if anyone tried to warn her about the risks of falling head over heels in love. But there was a brittleness about her smile. She never complained, but the snow stopping the mail from coming in must have been driving her crazy. Today of all days, her parents would have to be on her mind. Martha hoped that she wouldn’t go overboard with the drinking as a way of blotting out the heartache. It would be all too easy for a man to take advantage of her in that state.

“You need a top-up.” Delphine was reaching over with the bottle. “What shall we drink to this time?”

Martha put her hand over the rim. She was already starting to feel a bit woozy.

“To . . . life!” Kitty raised her glass.

“To life!” Delphine clinked her glass against each of the others. “A year ago, I couldn’t have drunk a toast to that. There seemed no point in going on living.” She took a sip of her drink. “It’s not the same life—but it’s a meaningful life. Thank you both, for helping me get there.”



It was still light when Martha and Delphine went outside for some fresh air. There was a path through the trees where the snow had been trodden down when the DPs had gone out collecting branches to decorate the camp.

“I’m getting wet feet.” Delphine giggled. “I forgot I was wearing these shoes!”

Martha glanced down at her own feet. She was so used to wearing the stout army-issue boots that had come with her uniform. It was the first time she’d put on a pair of her own shoes since the weddings last summer.

“Oh, look!” Delphine half walked, half slithered to a clearing in the trees. “The roses are still there!”

Martha made her way across to where Delphine was standing. There was part of a crumbling wall in the clearing—the remains of a building even more ruined than the one Stefan had taken her to. The vines growing against the wall consisted of little more than a tangle of gnarled branches dusted with snow, but a few withered roses were still attached.

“Wolf picked some of these for me in the first week we were here.” Delphine reached out to pluck one of them. It was the color of old parchment, the edges tinged brown. She held it up to her nose. “Amazing!” She smiled as she held out her hand to Martha. “Can you believe it still has its scent?”

The petals were fragile. A couple fell away in Martha’s fingers. She brought what was left up to her face. “Mmm . . . it smells lovely: like . . . vanilla . . . and honey.”

“Isn’t it strange, that it’s still there? I think it’s even more intense than when it was in full bloom.”

Martha stared at the papery petals in her hand. Yes, she thought, it was strange that something that had flowered and died could still smell so magical.

“I kept one of those roses Wolf gave me,” Delphine said. “I put it in a book and pressed it under the mattress. I told myself I’d take it out and look at it when I felt really low.” She reached out, running her finger along the contours of one of the remaining flowers. “But I haven’t had to. Maybe it’s because we’ve been so busy.”

“Maybe,” Martha replied. She thought it was more than that: having Wolf and the other children under her wing had given Delphine a new family. But to suggest that anyone could replace a cherished husband and beloved son would have sounded insensitive. “Perhaps you’re just stronger than you think,” she said.

“That’s what Father Josef told me when we went to Dachau. I don’t feel strong, though.”

“Nor does this.” Martha traced the outline of the faded rose. “But it still has power. It’s just hidden inside its heart.”





CHAPTER 24


Three weeks after Christmas, the supplies in the warehouse were almost exhausted. With no idea how much longer the freezing weather was going to last, Martha had no option but to cut the daily ration. Now there was not even one meatball floating in the cabbage soup. The Spam and canned fish had run out. Watery porridge was the only thing available for breakfast when the last sack of flour had been used up.

Kitty found Martha crouched over the desk in the office, crying, two days after the announcement was made.