The letter from Switzerland arrived a month later. Charlotte had looked up Nikolaus Becker’s address and had written to him yet again. She’d heard nothing from him since he’d returned her letter to her parents back in 1940, but she was desperately hoping that was because the address he’d had for her no longer existed.
It had been a difficult month since VE day. Charlotte continued to work in Livingston Road, but there was a distinct coolness between her and Caroline. She had waited impatiently for Harry to come back as he’d promised, but when he did not, she gradually had to accept that he wasn’t going to. It was no good blaming Caroline. She hadn’t caused his disappearance and the longer Harry was gone the more Charlotte had to admit that Caroline had, though misguided, thought she was acting in Charlotte’s best interests when she’d withheld his letter.
Billy had had to go home again, but not before Charlotte had told him all about Harry, how he’d befriended her, what he meant to her. Billy realised straight away that now was not the time to ask Charlotte to marry him as he’d been intending. Harry’s arrival and disappearance were too raw. All his gentle approach, his wooing of Charlotte had been wasted, Billy thought bitterly, wiped out at a stroke by the return of Harry Black.
Charlotte had told him, however, about Miss Edie’s bequest. It was still been a matter of conjecture in the village, but no one was really any the wiser. Charlotte had told no one else until she’d told Harry and now she felt it was only fair to tell Billy, too.
He’d stared at her for a moment before saying, ‘You mean Blackdown House is yours?’
She nodded.
‘But what about the Nicholsons who live there now?’
‘They’re tenants. They’re just renting it for the duration of the war.’
‘So you might come back and live there, now the war’s over.’ Billy tried to keep his voice even, so that the hope that leaped within him didn’t sound in his words.
‘I don’t know, Billy. It all depends.’
Depends on what? Billy wanted to ask, but all he said was, ‘Does Harry know?’
It seemed to him that everything related back to Harry. He was glad that Harry hadn’t put in an appearance since VE day, but Billy was afraid that he might simply be biding his time until he, Billy, went home again.
‘Yes, I told him when I saw him.’
Billy was dying to ask what Harry’s reaction had been, but he wanted all thoughts of Harry to fade as fast as possible, so he said nothing.
The day the letter arrived, Charlotte was out with some of the children in the park. She sat and watched them playing on the swings and remembered how Harry had found her there. She glanced round, half expecting to see him coming up behind her, but instead, to her surprise, she saw Caroline hurrying towards her.
‘Caroline? What’s the matter?’
‘You’ve got a letter, I thought you’d want to see it straight away.’
Charlotte’s thoughts flew to Harry, but when she took the letter she saw that the stamps were foreign... Swiss.
‘I’ll look after the children,’ Caroline said. ‘You go home and read it in peace.’
Charlotte needed no second bidding. On the back of the envelope, scrawled in the small pointy writing she’d seen before, was the name Nikolaus Becker and an address in Zurich. She almost ran back to the house and went straight up to her room. Nikolaus had answered her letter at last. She sat on the bed and as she had when she’d been given Harry’s letter, she looked at the envelope for a long time before having the courage to open it. She assumed it had news of her family, but would it be the news she’d been awaiting so long? Harry had said they would all have vanished into the Nazi killing machine. Was he going to be proved right?
Slowly she opened the envelope and pulled out the letter. It was dated ten days ago.
My Dear Lieselotte
I am so glad you have contacted me again with a new address. I have written to you before at the old one but received no reply. I managed to contact Bloomsbury House and found to my dismay that you were reported killed in September 1940. They had no record of your survival.
Now that the hostilities are over in Europe many hundreds of survivors of the Nazi camps have been found and some have been connected with their relatives through the American hospitals and the Red Cross. I am delighted to tell you your mother is one of them. She has been in an American army hospital since she was rescued from some labour camp, I don’t know where, but she remembered me and the Red Cross made contact. I have arranged for her to come to Zurich. I am sorry to say that there is no sign of your brother or father. Names are being published daily of those who have perished, but so far no news good or bad of them. I don’t know how your mother managed to survive, but she has, though she is extremely weak. I don’t know much of your circumstances now, but if you were able to come to Zurich I know it would make her very happy. She is in no state to travel to England to see you. To be honest with you, I’m not sure she will ever be well again. Perhaps, with good nursing here in Switzerland, she may recover to some extent, but if you can come I think it should be as soon as possible. I include my telephone number, but it may be impossible to speak to me. As you can imagine, with the end of the war, things are in chaos and even our neutral Switzerland is badly affected.
If you are able to come and visit, my wife, Anna, and I would be delighted if you would stay with us for a few days.
Please write your intentions to me soon, so that if you are able to come, we can make arrangements for your stay.
Yours,
Nikolaus Becker
Charlotte felt a sudden surge of joy. Mutti was alive and had been moved to a hospital in Switzerland. There was no news of Papa or Martin, but that didn’t mean they were dead, just not found yet. Mutti was alive and Mutti needed her. Charlotte leaped to her feet and ran downstairs to find Caroline. She had to share her great news with someone. As she reached the hall, Caroline was returning with the children from the park. She saw the joy on Charlotte’s face, and all animosity between them died as she flung herself into Caroline’s arms.
‘She’s alive!’ she cried as the tears streamed down her face. ‘My mother’s alive.’
Caroline hugged her tight, her own tears mingling with Charlotte’s. ‘That’s wonderful news, just wonderful,’ she said. ‘Oh, Charlotte, my dearest, I’m so pleased for you.’
A little later when they had the chance to sit down with a cup of tea, she asked, ‘So, what are you going to do?’
‘I’ve thought it all through,’ Charlotte told her. ‘I’m going down to Somerset tomorrow to see Mr Thompson and the vicar. I need money from my trust to pay my fare to Zurich.’
‘But how will you get there?’
‘Boat, train, whatever way I can.’
Caroline, seeing that Charlotte was determined and anxious to repair the damage her withholding Harry’s letter had done between them, said, ‘We shall miss you while you’re away, but things are a little easier just now and Ethel has been a godsend.’
Charlotte left for Somerset the next day. She had phoned the Swansons to say she was coming and Avril had sounded delighted.
‘How lovely,’ she cried. ‘We can’t wait to see you. Someone’ll meet you at the station. How long can you stay?’
‘Just a flying visit, I’m afraid. I have to see the vicar and Mr Thompson, but,’ Charlotte promised, ‘I’ll tell you all about it when I see you.’ Then the pips went and she said goodbye.
Billy was waiting at the station, standing on the platform when Charlotte got off the train. They hugged and Billy kissed her briefly on the mouth before leading her out to John Shepherd’s car.
‘This is a sudden visit,’ Billy said as they drove up the hill to Wynsdown. ‘Has something happened?’ As soon as he’d heard that Charlotte was coming down for a few days, he’d begun to worry that Harry had reappeared. Charlotte’s reply, ‘I’ll tell you all about it when we’ve got a chance to talk properly, Billy,’ did little to reassure him.
The Swansons greeted Charlotte with delight.
‘Charlotte, my dear girl, it’s so lovely to see you,’ Avril said as she hugged her. ‘We can’t wait to hear how things are in London.’ She was indeed agog. Caroline had hinted that there was something important that Charlotte wanted to discuss with her trustees, but she’d learned her lesson and would say no more. There was no way that she was going to interfere in Charlotte’s life again.
‘Hold on, Avril,’ laughed the vicar as he, too, gave Charlotte a hug. ‘The poor girl’s only just walked in the door. Feed her first, then we can chat.’
‘Yes, yes, of course,’ Avril said. She glanced across at Billy, standing in the doorway. ‘You’ll stay for supper, Billy?’
After they’d finished the meal, they sat round the familiar kitchen table and listened to what she had to say.
‘So you see,’ Charlotte finished, ‘I need some of my money so that I can go to Zurich and find my mother.’
‘By yourself?’ Avril sounded alarmed.
‘Of course not,’ said Billy. ‘I’m going with her.’
Charlotte turned and stared at him. ‘Billy, you can’t.’
‘Why not? Why can’t I?’
‘It’s so far. I don’t know what I’m going to find there. I don’t know long I’m going to be.’
‘I know,’ Billy replied. ‘That’s why I’m coming with you.’
‘I – I don’t know...’ Charlotte began, hope and uncertainty in her eyes.
‘I do,’ said Billy firmly. He reached across the table and took her hand. ‘You can’t think I’d let you go on your own, Char. No buts, I’m coming.’
‘Then we’ll need to release enough money to get you both there and back,’ David said. ‘I’ll speak to Thompson in the morning and we’ll get it all arranged.’
That night Charlotte lay in bed in the vicarage and thought about the journey ahead. It wouldn’t be easy crossing war-torn France and though she’d been determined to go, the thought of having Billy with her had lifted a burden she hadn’t realised she’d been carrying.
Next morning they all met with Mr Thompson and the two trustees agreed to release the money Charlotte and Billy would need for their journey. They left Wynsdown together on the afternoon train.
They crossed over to France and took a train to Paris. The French railways were still running and they managed to catch a late-night train to Strasbourg on the next leg of their journey. As they sat together in the compartment, surrounded by people dozing to the movement of the train, Charlotte curled up against Billy, her head on his shoulder, his arms holding her close. They, too, nodded from time to time, but Charlotte was too strung up to sleep properly. She had no idea of what state her mother was in, just that she’d been in hospital and was frail.
They finally reached Zurich three days after they had left Wynsdown. Tired and hungry, having eaten nothing but the sandwiches they’d brought for the journey, they found a café in the station and had some sort of soup and some crusty bread and cheese before setting out to find Nikolaus. There were taxis waiting outside the station and Charlotte gave the driver Nikolaus Becker’s address.
‘Seems an extravagance taking a taxi,’ she said as they drove through the city, clean and bright and undefaced by the ravages of war, ‘but I don’t know how else we’ll find him.’
Billy squeezed her hand. ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘And that’s the quickest way to find your mother.’
Nikolaus Becker lived in an apartment block in a side street, not far from the business district. The taxi deposited them outside and Charlotte looked at the row of bells beside the communal front door. There it was, Becker N. She gave Billy a nervous smile and pressed the bell. Would Cousin Nikolaus be expecting her? She had tried to phone as soon as she’d got his letter, but it was impossible to get a line to Zurich, so she had written to tell him she was on her way, but she had no idea whether or not he would have received her letter yet. The door opened with a buzz and they went in. Stairs led upwards and there was a cage lift. They took the stairs.
There seemed to be two apartments on each floor, each with a name and a bell outside. The Beckers lived on the second floor.
When Charlotte pressed their bell the door opened almost immediately and a maid in a black uniform stood there. ‘Yes?’
‘Lieselotte Becker to see Herr Becker.’ Charlotte spoke in German, though the words sounded odd even to her own ears. She hadn’t spoken German since the night she’d comforted Dieter Karhausen.
The maid stood aside and let them into a wide hallway. ‘Wait here please,’ she said, ‘I’ll see if Herr Becker is at home.’
Nikolaus Becker appeared moments later, peering at the couple who waited in his front hall. ‘Lieselotte?’ he said. ‘Is it really you?’
Charlotte assured him it was and introduced Billy, who, speaking no German simply smiled and shook hands. Nikolaus led them into a large drawing room that looked out on to the street below. As they entered a woman got up from a chair by the window and Nikolaus introduced her as his wife, Anna. She was tall, taller than her husband, elegantly dressed with her silver hair swept up into a chignon.
‘Lisa,’ she drawled, ‘we’re so glad you came. We were hoping you would.’
‘I did write,’ Charlotte said, ‘but maybe I’ve got here before my letter. How’s my mother?’
‘And who is this?’ Anna didn’t answer her question, but looked at Billy with interest.
‘This is my friend, Billy Shepherd,’ Charlotte said. She had no time to go into the ins and outs of her relationship with Billy. ‘How’s my mother? Where is she?’
‘She’s in a nursing home,’ replied Anna. ‘We couldn’t look after her here.’
Charlotte, who had just sat down, got at once to her feet. ‘Can you take me to see her?’
‘Of course,’ Anna said smoothly, ‘but surely you’ll take a little refreshment first?’
‘No, thank you,’ Charlotte said. ‘We’ve had something. Please, can you take us to the nursing home?’
Anna smiled. ‘Of course, Nikolaus’ll take you. Where were you planning to stay?’
Billy could see that Charlotte was getting agitated and said softly, ‘What’s going on, Char?’
‘Nothing, Mr Shepherd, I do assure you,’ Anna said in perfect English. ‘I was just asking where you were planning to stay during your visit. Lisa is, of course, most welcome to stay here with us, but since you are with her, you’d probably be more comfortable in an hotel.’
Billy gave a polite smile, but Charlotte could see he was angry. ‘Of course,’ he replied. ‘Don’t worry about us. We shall find a hotel once Charlotte’s seen her mother.’
‘Charlotte?’
‘Lisa. Lisa’s mother.’
‘I see, well, perhaps you’d like to wash your hands, freshen up a little while Nikolaus fetches the car.’ She showed them across the hall where there was a large bathroom. Charlotte went in first, and when she’d closed the door behind her, peered into the mirror above the basin. Staring back at her was a pale-faced girl, with huge tired eyes. They’d come so far and she’d thought for a moment that her mother would be waiting here in this apartment when she arrived. She should have known, she supposed that Mutti would need proper nursing care, but as she’d walked into the opulent apartment, she’d been glad that her mother was in such pleasant surroundings.
Nikolaus drove them the three or four miles to the nursing home. He seemed more relaxed now that there were just the three of them and he spoke more easily.
‘Your poor mother made contact with us through the Red Cross just before the surrender,’ he said. ‘We’d heard nothing of any of them before that. I arranged for her to be brought here, but she was in a far worse state than I’d expected.’ He sighed. ‘We couldn’t look after her at home, Lisa. Anna, my wife....’ His voice faltered to embarrassed silence.
‘I’m know you did all you could,’ Charlotte assured him. ‘Thank you for taking care of her and for sending for me.’
‘I’m afraid you’ll find her very changed,’ Nikolaus said sadly.
‘Did she say anything about Papa or Martin?’ Charlotte asked. ‘Does she know where they are?’
Nikolaus sighed again. ‘I will tell you what she said.’ He pulled up into the car park of a large house, cut the engine and turned to face her. ‘It is not good news, I’m afraid. Franz was arrested and we have no news of him. Martin lived with your mother for a while and then they came and took him away. Because he was blind they sent him to a home for the handicapped somewhere in Bavaria, but he died.’
‘How?’ whispered Charlotte.
‘We don’t know. Your mother simply got a card saying he was dead.’
‘What did she do? Where did she go?’
‘She was helped by one of your father’s old patients. He had saved the life of her son after the Great War, and she’d never forgotten. She wasn’t Jewish, but she took your mother in and hid her. She kept her hidden until someone betrayed them to the Gestapo. They were both arrested and sent to a camp. I don’t know what happened to the other woman, but your mother managed to survive until the Americans came.’ Nikolaus fell silent for a moment and then added, ‘I thought you should know all these things before you see her. Those that survived the camps... It explains how she is.’ He gestured to the house. ‘Go in and ask for her. I will wait for you here.’
They had been speaking German and Billy had listened to the flow of conversation without understanding it, not the words, but he understood the import, from their voices and the way the colour drained from Charlotte’s face and her jaw set as she battled with unshed tears. He was holding her hand and her grip had tightened as she sat, ramrod-straight in the back of the car, and listened to what Nikolaus was telling her.
When at last he fell silent, the air in the car seemed stifling. Charlotte opened the door and got out. Billy followed her and waited as she leaned back into the car and said something else. Then she said, ‘Come on, Billy. She’s in here.’ And turning, she walked resolutely up to the front door and rang the bell.
A nurse led them along a corridor and stopped outside one of the doors. ‘She’s in here. She’s a little weak, today.’ She opened the door and said brightly, ‘Now then, Marta. Here’s your daughter come to see you.’
‘I’ll wait outside,’ Billy said, but Charlotte shook her head.
‘No,’ she said. ‘Come in with me. Please?’
Together they walked into the room. It was small, but it was filled with sunlight that streamed through a window overlooking the garden. The bed stood in the middle, a chair on either side, and on it lay an emaciated figure, scarcely bigger than a child. If Charlotte hadn’t known it was her mother, she wouldn’t have recognised her. Her limbs were skeletal, her face no more than a skin-covered skull. Wisps of thin grey hair clung to her head and her eyes, though open, were glazed and unseeing.
Charlotte stared at her for a long moment, stunned by what she saw, unable to take it in. Cousin Nikolaus had warned her that her mother was ill, but she wasn’t prepared for this. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she blinked them away. She had to be strong. She’d found her mother and she had to be strong for her.
She moved to the bedside and reached for the bony hand that lay above the covers.
‘Mutti?’ she whispered. ‘Mutti? It’s me, Lisa.’ Sitting down on the chair, she stroked her mother’s hand. There was no reaction from the tiny figure on the bed, but Lisa continued to speak to her, her voice soft and gentle. ‘Mutti, I’m here. It’s Lisa. I’ve come from London to find you and when you’re better, I’ll take you home.’
She continued to talk to her, just in case Mutti was somewhere inside this husk of a woman and could hear her. Softly, she told her about her life in England, about the Federmans, how they’d looked after her, how she’d been evacuated to Wynsdown, about Miss Edie’s kindness, how she was working in a children’s home. Once, just once, she felt a returning pressure from the hand she held. She looked into her mother’s face and saw a flicker behind the eyes.
‘Billy’s here with me,’ Charlotte told her. ‘He’s come all the way with me, to see you.’ She glanced across at Billy, who was standing by the window, the sun striking his fair hair, creating a halo round his head. ‘He’s been my good angel, Mutti.’
There was a movement from the bed and Charlotte looked back, just in time to see a moment of lucidity in her mother’s eyes and to hear the breathed word, ‘Lisa!’ And then the light went out. Marta Becker was gone.
Charlotte knew at once. Her mother had recognised her, and knowing she was alive, had simply let go, slipping away into merciful oblivion. Charlotte saw Marta’s face relax, the pain smoothed away in death, and caught a glimpse of the mother she’d last seen over six years ago. She sat dry-eyed, still holding Mutti’s hand for a long while before she gently released it and stood up. She held out her arms to Billy, standing so silently by the window, and he gathered her to him, his face resting against her hair.
The sun still streamed through the window, bathing the silent room in light and warmth, and for a long moment they stood together, before Charlotte looked up into Billy’s face and said, ‘Let’s go, Billy. It’s time to go home.’