“Not Berlin. I’m from Nuremburg.”
“Oh!” Liesl clapped her hands. “The beating heart of the Reich.”
And that was it. The last piece. Grete began to weep.
Autumn progressed into winter, milder in the tiny Normandy village than in Berlin. ‘Hansi’ obtained two rooms with a shared bathroom in a narrow cottage where he himself was billeted. The luxury of the top official in an outpost the Reich appeared to have forgotten. He gave various excuses for why their papers had not yet come through and, after awhile, they ceased asking. The daily miracle of survival didn’t bear examination.
At first, Grete kept close to her room, hiding, fearful of going outside. As the locals grew used to the sight of them, frequently in company with Liesl’s officer, she felt more accepted, almost safe.
News of th
