The Diplomat's Wife(75)
“But to go to Berlin, alone? That’s so dangerous.”
“It’s no more dangerous than what you and I have had to do in the past.” Emma does not respond, but cringes as memories of the Kommandant come crashing down upon her. “I can handle it.” I say this as though trying to convince myself, too.
“I would go with you, if I could,” Emma offers.
“I know you would, but you have your boys to think about, and Marek, too. I wish, though, that you would reconsider my offer to come to England to live. It would be safer for all of you there.”
“Thank you,” Emma replies. “Maybe someday. But I can’t leave Marek.”
I start to reply. Then I see the tired sadness in Emma’s eyes. This is her life now. “I understand.”
Emma’s eyes widen. “You do?”
I pause. Time is of the essence. It is not the moment to be sharing confidences. But I do not know if I will ever see Emma again. “Yes. Before I met Simon, there was someone else.” A strange look crosses Emma’s face. “After the war,” I add quickly, so that she will know I do not mean Jacob. I have always wondered if Emma worried about him and me, if she thought there was something between us. “An American soldier named Paul. He saved my life, rescued me out of the Nazi prison, and we fell in love.”
“Marta, that’s wonderful. What happened?”
“We were supposed to meet up in London and be married. But the airplane he was on crashed before he could get there.”
“Oh, no!” I can tell from the pain in her eyes that she is reliving her own loss through mine.
“With Paul, I finally understood real love. What you had with Jacob. It was worth having that, even for only a short time.”
“And your husband?”
“I actually met Simon before Paul died, on the boat coming to England. But it wasn’t until afterward when I started working for him that we became involved.”
“Do you love him?”
That is the same question I asked her before about Marek, I recall, hesitating. “Simon is a good man. He’s kind to me and Rachel, like Marek is to you and the boys. But the kind of love that I had with Paul…”
“It only comes along once in a lifetime,” Emma finishes for me. “But at least with Simon, he’s the father of your child. I mean, he is, isn’t he?” I look away, not answering. “Oh, Marta!”
I cannot lie to Emma. “Simon thinks she’s his daughter. I didn’t mean to trick him. It just all happened so quickly. I wasn’t sure I was pregnant until after we were married, and then I didn’t have the heart to hurt him. I’ve never told anyone the truth.”
“Until now. Why are you telling me?”
“Because you are my best friend.” Not were, I realize as I say it. Are. “And to tell you that I understand now how you did the things that you had to do, even though you loved Jacob.”
Emma wipes her eyes. “Thank you, Marta. That means more to me than you know.”
I nod. “We don’t have a lot of time. You need to get back to your children and I need to get out of here before the police come.”
“How are you going to get to Berlin?” Emma asks.
“I don’t know,” I admit.
“You know, when Marek and some of the others went to Berlin, they would take the train to a town near the border. They would get off and walk across the border through the woods, then pick up a train on the other side.” I pause, considering her suggestion. The border is probably guarded more tightly than ever now with the coup. But it is my only chance. “Is there anything I can do to help?” Emma asks.
“No, I…” I begin, then stop. I need to send word back to Simon about my change of plans. If he thinks I simply disappeared from the streets of Prague, he will be frantic with worry. This way, maybe the Foreign Office can arrange my extraction from Berlin instead. “Emma, I need you deliver a message to the British embassy for me.” I walk over to the night table and picked up a pencil and a pad of paper. Change of plans. Meeting Marcelitis in Berlin. Oranienburger Strasse. I hand the paper to Emma. “Ask for a man named George Lindt in the consular section,” I add, remembering Simon’s mention of his former colleague. “Only him. Tell him the message is from me, that it is highly classified and urgent, and needs to be sent by secure telegraph to Simon Gold in the Foreign Office at once.”
“Can this man Lindt be trusted with the information?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “But I don’t have any other choice. Wait until morning to deliver the message. That way, even if he tells someone he shouldn’t, I’ll have a good head start. And you won’t attract attention by going to the embassy in the dead of night. Will you be able to get out of your house again with the police watching?”
“I can manage it,” Emma replies. “If I take the children for a walk during the day, they won’t suspect anything.”
“Good. I certainly don’t want to put you in more danger. I think we need to get going. You go first and I’ll leave a few minutes later so as not to attract attention. Take the back stairway again.”
“Wait, there’s one other thing.” Emma walks across the room and disappears into the bathroom. A minute later, she reappears, wearing only her slip. “Take this.” She hands me her dress. “Your clothes are too Western. They’ll stand out.”