It had been four weeks since Li and Jian had disappeared from Shanghai Jewish Hospital. No-one knew if they had been trailed and caught by the Kempeitai that day, or if her friends had snuck away to safety. Mutti, Papa and Romy had searched the whole hospital but there’d been no sign of them. Returning home to Grosvenor House, Romy had kept watch on their front door, hoping that perhaps Jian and Li would return to their apartment to salvage some of their things.

Instead, there had been a steady stream of coolies carrying boxes in and out of the apartment with a Japanese captain barking instructions. Romy assumed most of the Hos’ belongings were in the boxes being hauled down the steps. Dr Ho’s shop and rooms at the markets remained closed.

Soon it would be the Bernfelds turn to move. The Shanghai Herald lay open on the mahogany coffee table in the drawing room as a cruel reminder:

Due to military necessity, places of residence and businesses of stateless refugees in the Shanghai area shall hereafter be restricted to the undermentioned area in the International Settlement.

The Bernfelds were to move to a ghetto in Hongkew by May. Papa had already started to look for an apartment—but how would Jian and Li find them if they came back to Grosvenor House? Her heart yearned for her missing friends.

The day before, a different Japanese captain had moved into the Hos’ apartment. He’d removed his hat and bowed politely to Romy, introducing himself as Captain Azuma. When he smiled, his eyes creased at the sides.

‘You must be Romy Bernfeld, daughter of Dr Oskar and Marta Bernfeld. You’ve just turned seventeen, I believe. Granted admission to Aurora University to study medicine. Congratulations.’

Romy’s heart started racing and her stomach churned. What else was in his dossier on her?

He reached out to shake her hand, and Romy felt trapped. The Japanese had killed Dr Ho and Wilma. Her dearest friends were missing and she was petrified of the soldiers. And yet the man standing in front of her was speaking so kindly, and his eyes were clear and true.

‘And your mother, she likes to watch theatre occasionally? Huaju?’ Romy’s blood ran cold.

‘I think when she gets to Hongkew she will not have time for this hobby. She and your father work at the hospital. They have saved many Japanese people. We are grateful. It’s best if they focus on their job. Do you understand, Miss Romy Bernfeld?’

Romy nodded slowly.

Captain Azuma stood there, still holding out his hand to Romy like a peace offering. He sighed. ‘I have a daughter your age—Junko.’ He shook his head and his voice sounded strained as he said softly, almost under his breath, ‘I haven’t seen her for three years. She too is supposed to be continuing her study, but—’ He paused. ‘She needs her mother.’ He shrugged as his face coloured. He shook his head again. ‘This war…’

She instinctively liked Captain Azuma and it felt like a betrayal. Romy’s throat was dry and she struggled to swallow. She wanted to ask where to find her friends, but instead she turned and went back into her apartment, pushing the heavy door closed behind her.

Romy sat on the edge of her chair in the living room opposite Mutti and Papa, who held hands on the sofa. Delma and Miss Schwartz sat on the other sofa as Amah poured black tea and passed each of them a cup.

Romy closed her eyes and inhaled the steam as she took her first sip. When she opened them, she caught Mutti wincing as she took a resigned sip. A lemon teacake with glossy circles of caramelised lemon studded across the top sat untouched on the silver platter. No-one had much of an appetite.

Delma gave Miss Schwartz an encouraging nod and said, ‘We’ve found Li, Romy.’

Mutti covered her mouth with her hands, as if unsure whether to be relieved or frightened.

‘Where?’ Romy almost shouted. ‘Jian too?’

Papa shuffled to the edge of his seat. ‘Is she safe?’

Miss Schwartz took a deep breath. ‘As you know, I was held at the Cathay with Laura Margolis and some other American aid workers for a few weeks after the ships were bombed on the Whangpoo. I managed to make some contacts—’

‘What’s—’ Romy tried to interrupt.

‘Li is at the Cathay.’

‘Thank God,’ Mutti murmured. ‘She’s alive.’

‘Is Jian there too?’ Romy asked.

Miss Schwartz shook her head and shifted in her seat uncomfortably. Romy had an uneasy feeling she knew what Miss Schwartz was going to say next.

‘Li’s working as a singer. Her stage name is Yu Baihe. She’s a star already.’

‘How can that be safe?’ said Papa, his brow furrowed.

Miss Schwartz cleared her throat. ‘She is living with a gentleman at the hotel.’

‘What?’ said Mutti angrily. ‘Who? She’s just a child!’ She turned to Romy and reached for her hand.

Romy didn’t bother to correct her mother. Li was seventeen, almost a woman. She thought of the gold curve-hugging cheongsam Wilma had ordered six months ago to be beaded and fitted for Li’s birthday, which had fallen last week. How had Li celebrated? Romy shook her head—desperate not to know, yet missing her friend dearly. She thought she might throw up.

‘She’s living with Chang Wu,’ Romy guessed flatly as everyone turned to her, stunned. ‘He gave her his card at the Cathay after the bombing. He was friends with their brother Zhou. Li trusted him.’ Romy’s tone expressed her doubt. ‘He was there that day—when Dr and Mrs Ho were killed.’ Her throat tightened.

‘That’s right,’ said Miss Schwartz. ‘I managed to see Li alone for a few minutes in the corridor at the Cathay and she explained everything. It seems the dashing Mr Wu is a man with many connections. Close to the Japanese. Americans. British. Links to Chinese gangsters and racketeers. You name it.’

‘He’s a gangster?’ Mutti looked horrified. ‘But why would Li have anything to do with him? The Hos were people of qijie.’

‘Exactly. That integrity had them killed. They made no secret of their opposition to the Japanese occupation—at Puyuan, in Wilma’s plays—and Dr Ho persisted in practising traditional medicine and speaking out against the puppet government.’

Delma leaned forwards in her seat. ‘The Japanese Kempeitai are everywhere—people whisper at Café Louis and in the queues for the soup kitchen that even the street sweepers are working for the Japanese.’

She looked from Marta to Oskar. ‘You’ve seen the squalid conditions in which many Chinese families live. It’s been a long, bitter winter. They’re starving. Babies are being left at orphanages and police stations in the dead of night. Officials can’t keep up. Is it any wonder Chinese hoodlums take money from the Kempeitai via fixers like Wu in exchange for “favours” if it means they can keep their babies? They’re just trying to stay alive.’ Delma pressed her thin hands together.

‘Is Chang Wu looking after Li, or blackmailing her? Is he—’ Mutti’s face looked ghostly pale.

‘I’m not sure…’ Miss Schwartz seemed to be choosing her words carefully. ‘Marta, people wear a lot of different hats in Shanghai. I knew of him because he runs a sideline in, er, narcotics, tobacco, certain medications, munitions and forging passports.’ She flushed. ‘He’s a bit of a Mr Fix-it—the kind who is very useful in wartime.’

‘But if he’s close to the Japanese, why would Li go to him? Why didn’t she come to us?’ Mutti’s voice started to break and Papa reached for her hand.

‘Jian,’ said Romy softly. ‘She did it for her brother.’ Romy thought of all the times Li had stood up to her father about Jian’s photography. The way she teased him, yet clearly doted on him.

Miss Schwartz said simply, ‘Yes.’

For a moment the only noise in the room was a ticking clock.

‘I had less than a minute with her,’ Miss Schwartz continued. ‘But she wanted me to let you know she’s safe. She’s made some kind of deal with Wu, and Jian has joined the Shanghai Municipal Police. In exchange for Li, Wu has promised protection for Jian.’

Romy shivered as she recalled Wu eyeing Li as if she were some kind of prize. He wouldn’t have betrayed the Hos in order to force Li into a corner, would he?

Her thoughts spun wildly. Jian might be working for the puppet government, but she refused to believe he was a collaborator. And could he ever be safe working so closely with the Japanese, considering the fate of his parents? Wu must be a formidable figure indeed. There was something about his careless charm that made her uneasy—but if he really was able to keep her friends safe—alive…

Her thoughts were interrupted by Miss Schwartz. ‘This is very important, Romy: Li insists that you don’t make contact with her or Jian. And I agree—it’s far too dangerous.’

Romy wept for her friends and Mutti came to kneel beside her, wrapping her in her arms like she had back in Vienna. So many people they loved had been ripped from their lives.

‘Nina?’ Romy said hopefully.

‘I’m so sorry,’ said Delma, shaking her head. ‘But I’ll keep looking.’

‘I’m afraid I have more bad news,’ Miss Schwartz broke in. ‘I wanted to tell you in person. Laura Margolis and I—in fact all Britons, Dutch and Americans—are being interned as enemy aliens. They’re taking us to the Chapei camp tomorrow.’

Mutti blanched and Papa groaned. Romy pictured Daniel being loaded onto a truck.

‘But the important thing,’ Miss Schwartz continued, ‘is that Laura has arranged a committee to continue with the JDC’s work. The two boilers that came via Sassoon’s company—thanks to your connections, Oskar—allow us to cook more food using far less fuel. The Kitchen Fund will still be feeding over four thousand refugees lunch and dinner. The Japanese helped us requisition the boilers—they were worried about hunger riots in the ghetto. The night classes and schools will stay open. There will be medical supplies. You’ll both start work at Ward Road Hospital, yes?’

‘Of course,’ answered Mutti for them both.

‘Laura has done a remarkable job,’ Miss Schwartz said.

‘As have you, Eva,’ said Mutti.

Miss Schwartz looked out the window as her neck flushed red around the collar of her khaki shirt. ‘Delma will help at the kitchen when she can.’

‘We all will,’ said Romy.

‘This is the way it has to be until this damn war is over,’ said Miss Schwartz. She reached across the table and rested her hand on Delma’s. It was a simple, consoling gesture, but the gentle stroke of her little finger and the softening of Delma’s eyes spoke volumes.

Romy smiled to herself. Of course. How had she missed this? She picked up her teacup and drained it.

Papa reached for Mutti’s hand, and she smiled.

Delma continued, ‘Since Eva is leaving, I won’t be able to come over to Frenchtown again before you move to Hongkew. Ghoya won’t give me a pass out of the ghetto.’

‘Who’s Ghoya?’ Romy asked.

Delma and Miss Schwartz exchanged glances.

‘You’ll find out,’ Miss Schwartz said darkly.