For five days, they lived in the dark.
The cellar was clean and had a working bathroom, and the hurricane lamps gave off enough dim light to read and eat by. Still, the absence of sunlight was disorienting and made them sleep more than usual and at odd hours. Despite her wristwatch, Allina struggled to tell between day and night. The meal trays Lisel brought to the basement became her main point of reference.
The change in Katrine broke Allina’s heart as the days inched forward. “Go outside, Mama,” was her initial, constant plea, but agitation turned somber the second day, and then sullen. By the end of their third day in the dark, the little one had shrunk into mournful silence.
Allina was anxious for Katrine, so she devised a schedule to create a sense of normalcy. After breakfast, they spent time drawing with wax crayons and playing quiet games. Afternoons were devoted to washing up and straightening the meager contents of the cellar. In the evenings, she read to her daughter and brushed and braided Katrine’s thick, unruly hair.
The hardest hours for Allina were those spent alone while Katrine slept, because there was nothing to keep her anchored to the present. Instead, she found herself plagued by a hectic jumble of obsessive thoughts about Karl and their uncertain future. Adele insisted the lack of communication about his whereabouts was normal, but that didn’t matter. Allina could barely breathe through her growing sense of panic.
On the first day of confinement, Lisel taught Katrine a game, one every child who passed through the house had learned. She called it “Mouse in the House.”
“You must be as quiet as a baby mouse,” she whispered in a singsong voice, “when Auntie Adele has guests in the house.” Lifting a finger to her lips, Lisel twitched her nose, which produced a fit of giggles from her delighted audience.
“How quiet must you be?” she whispered.
“Baby mouse,” Katrine answered in a very small voice.
“Very good. And when must you be quiet?” Lisel asked.
Her little nose scrunched up. “House?” she said.
Lifting Katrine onto her lap, Allina buried her lips in the soft mop of golden curls. “Don’t worry, kitten. Mama will tell you when it’s time to play mouse.”
Adele received nine visitors in five days. None lasted more than twenty minutes, and the procedure was always the same. To announce a guest, Adele or Lisel would turn on the radio in the parlor before answering the door. This provided Allina with a thirty-second warning, and also masked minor noises that might come from the cellar. Once the guest was safely away, one of the women would turn off the radio to give the all-clear signal.
If a visitor came during the day, Allina would move her daughter to the cot farthest from the stairs. There, with her heart hammering in her throat, she and Katrine would play “Mouse in the House.” Allina would cuddle her daughter and pat her bottom, coaxing her to sleep.
Evening callers were easier, since Katrine had always been a good sleeper. It was during those visits, with her daughter cocooned in blankets and dead to the world, when Allina gave in to curiosity. She’d creep to the top of the stairs to hear what bits of conversation she could make out over the music. The calls appeared to be social, mostly well-wishers who came to gossip and congratulate Adele on her speedy recovery. Allina was astonished at the cruel words that poured like poison from Adele von Strassberg’s mouth. The woman who’d helped save hundreds of children played the part of Nazi sympathizer with chilling accuracy.
Early on the morning of the sixth day, while Katrine was still sound asleep—about an hour before breakfast, if the faint aroma of bacon was any clue—the parlor radio came on.
Allina tiptoed quickly to the top of the stairs, sat down, and bent her head to the door. Adele was in conversation with a man who spoke in thickly accented Basel-German and with the clipped tone of a police officer. In contrast, Adele’s imperious voice was brittle with fear, a warning that sent Allina’s stomach tumbling. Horrified, she realized the officer was asking to speak with her.
“My niece is no longer in Basel, Officer Kupper,” Adele said. “She tended me for two weeks but has returned home. It’s been five, no, six days now.”
The officer replied after a long pause. “My apologies, Frau von Strassberg. My commander received a telephone call from Munich this morning. He was sure we’d find your niece here.”
“He’s mistaken,” Adele said loudly. “As I’ve already said, Allina has gone home. My driver saw her off at the train station.”
“I’ve no reason to doubt you, ma’am,” the officer said, “but Allina von Strassberg is not at Hochland Home, nor at her home in Starnberg. That’s why I’ve come here to call on her.”
“This is most distressing,” Adele said, voice cracking. “If Allina has gone missing, we must do everything we can to find her and my grand-niece. My nephew will be out of his mind with worry.”
There was no immediate response from the officer. Allina heard only the first sweet, romantic strains of Strauss’s “The Blue Danube.” As the slow waltz began, the hairs raised on the back of her neck.
“As we have not been able to locate his wife, I must burden you with the difficult news I came to deliver today,” Officer Kupper said in a softer voice. “I regret to report that your nephew, Karl von Strassberg, is dead.”
There was a crash, the sound of china or crystal as it exploded on the floor, and then the high, keening cry of Adele’s grief.
Allina remained on the steps, mute and motionless. She was aware of a loud buzzing in her ears but not of any answering pain in her body. Instead, there was stillness and shock, like the momentary panic after a deep cut to the arm—the instant before the agony hits, when one sees flesh flayed to the bone, but before the bleeding starts.
It was only after Adele switched off the radio and opened the cellar door that Allina began to howl.
She wasn’t sure how long it took to return to her right mind. Allina became aware of Adele’s tear-streaked cheeks and sweet-smelling embrace, then of a growing flurry of activity around her. Lisel grabbed a screaming Katrine and whisked her away, and Elias began appearing at odd intervals, each time with a different question for Adele to answer.
Eventually, Adele grabbed Allina and shook her hard enough to stop her crying.
“Now is the time for strength,” Adele said, cupping her face. “Take hold of yourself.”
Adele dragged her into the cellar bathroom, sat her down on the toilet, and proceeded to unpin and cut her hair. “You must leave Basel immediately,” she said, as the long, golden locks rained down onto the cement floor. “Kupper told me Karl was executed by firing squad, but I received no notice from any of Karl’s contacts. The chain is broken. That means we’ve lost a day, maybe two.”
Allina’s heart began to race.
“The SS has no jurisdiction here,” Adele continued, “but they’ll exert what pressure they can. The Basel police will return with more questions, perhaps even today. We’ll be watched.” She plucked at Allina’s bangs and, with a satisfied grunt, drew her up to face the mirror.
Allina gazed at the stranger in the glass—a gaunt woman with chalky skin, swollen, red-rimmed eyes, and close-cropped hair that appeared a shade darker than usual.
“Where will we go?” she asked, touching the shorn ends. Her head felt light, as if it might float up to the ceiling.
“America,” Adele answered. “It’s safer for you there, with an ocean between us.” Lips pursed, she narrowed her eyes, reconsidering Allina’s hair. “The cut alters the shape of your face. The color is still too light, but there’s no time to dye it. We need to get you on the road before the police return.”
It was happening so fast. The room began to spin.
“You have ten minutes to pack your suitcase,” Adele said, pushing her out of the bathroom. “I’ll check on Elias.”
Lisel was waiting just outside the door, hand in hand with a placid Katrine. The little one stared at her mother’s face and shrieked in terror.
Her daughter’s distress brought Allina fully into the present. Hoisting Katrine up on one hip, she pressed the child’s chubby fingers to her short locks. “Don’t be afraid, kitten,” she crooned. “Mama has cut her hair, that’s all.”
After Katrine stopped crying, Lisel took her, leaving Allina with five minutes to pack. She dragged the suitcase from under her cot and pulled out a few items to lighten the load. Adele had warned against packing the wood box, but Allina refused that advice. It contained all she had left of her family, Karl, and her work at Hochland Home. She wrapped the box in newspaper and sandwiched it between heavier articles of clothing.
When Adele returned to the cellar, her face was a pale, grim mask of determination. She picked up Allina’s suitcase and started up the stairs without a word.
It was time.
Unable to speak, Allina hugged Lisel, who began sobbing. Then she grabbed Katrine and followed Adele upstairs, where Elias was waiting in the kitchen.
Adele pressed a paper-wrapped parcel into his hands. “Food for the first part of your journey,” she said, before turning her hard, amber gaze on Allina. “You’ve a long drive ahead. Trust Elias. He’s done this many times. Now, hurry, both of you.”
Allina followed them into the backyard, where a car stood idling. It was a crisp, blue-skyed autumn day, the sky so bright it hurt her eyes. Once the vehicle was loaded and Allina and Katrine were in their seats, Adele reached through the window to pull her into a fierce hug.
“Build a new life, far from here,” she whispered. She kissed Allina on the cheek once, twice, then a third time. “Be happy, for Karl’s sake. You’re all I have left of him.”
Elias drove away slowly, leaving Allina to watch this tiny warrior of a woman grow smaller in the side mirror. Adele von Strassberg smiled and waved and blew kisses at the car before she bent over at the waist and finally gave in to grief.