“Hanne works for Frau Kramer, Mr Faye,” Elsa said in her German-accented English. “She cleans twice a week and does some cooking. She is my very best friend from Vienna.”
As the reception began to wind down, Vincent Ansell and his wife Elsa sat at a table with Peter and Bridget in the garden of the British Legation. There was dance music and loud voices coming from the reception room nearby.
“We went to the same school in Hietzing. She knows my parents,” Elsa said.
“How long has she been in Sweden?” Peter asked.
“Since 1940, same as me. I met Vincent in ‘39.”
“When did she start working for the Kramers?” Peter asked.
“About three months ago,” Elsa said. “It went well at first, but now Hanne is furious with Frau Kramer. She’s very bossy and treats Hanne as an Untermensch. Hanne comes from a very good Viennese family, you know.”
Vincent leaned forward to get Peter’s attention.
“I am going to the bar. Can I refresh your drinks?”
“No thanks, Vincent. I have had enough,” Peter said.
“Ladies?”
Elsa and Bridget shook their heads, and Vincent was off.
“Dr Kramer works a lot out of his study at home,” Elsa said. “It’s on the second floor. He has a desk drawer, which he keeps locked.”
“This is very interesting, Elsa, but do you think your friend Hanne would be willing to work for us?” Bridget asked.
“Hanne is Jewish, Bridget,” Elsa said, “but with her blonde hair you wouldn’t know it. She’s lost so many friends. She hates the Nazis. I think she’s interested in helping the British.”
Bridget put down her glass and turned to Peter.
“What do you think, Peter?”
“It can’t hurt to talk to her.”
“I could meet your friend for tea somewhere after shopping, perhaps,” Bridget said. “What do you think, Elsa?”
“Yes, good idea. Just us women going shopping together.”
Peter nodded his benediction.
“Open up, Nils. Here it comes. Open the gate.”
Anders held a spoon to his two-year-old son. Little Nils grinned at his dad from his high chair and took a big mouthful of porridge.
Anders was in his pyjamas and dressing gown in the kitchen as his wife Britta rushed around the flat preparing to go to work. She popped into the kitchen dressed smartly in a white blouse and skirt with her blonde hair pinned up in a victory roll. Nils reached out to his mother for a kiss and a hug.
“Remember to pick up Nils at grandma’s,” Britta said. “I won’t be back until after 4 o’clock.”
Britta kissed her son and drank her tea standing at the counter.
“Have you heard anything from your mother?” Anders asked.
“Mamma is worried. She hasn’t had any news about Rolf. The priest Arne Berge thinks they may have moved him from Neuengammen.”
“The Neuengammen camp is bad, but there are worse camps in Germany.”
“Berge goes there every week,” Britta said. “He brings clothes and food that he collects in Hamburg. He checked the list of prisoners and Rolf’s name was no longer on it.”
“That’s not good news.”
“Berge thinks he has been moved to another labour camp. It is outrageous for the Germans to hold my brother. He has done nothing.”
“The Germans don’t care, Britta. They arrest whoever they like.”
“Mamma has heard that the Germans put prisoners in Nacht und Nebel camps where they are worked to death.”
Anders helped Nils off the high chair.
“Poor Rolf, maybe it is not so bad,” Anders said. “We must not lose hope. You better go. You will be late.”
Britta kissed Anders and hurried out of the flat.