‘Okay. Can you do it, Ruth? I – I can’t seem to manage.’
They worked together to remove their badges, then pulled out their identity cards, yellow stars prominent on the front, tore them up and dropped the pieces into the fetid bin. Sarah listened, frightened someone might come out of one of the flats and find them. But the people who lived there had probably heard the shots and were cowering indoors. She turned to the young man. ‘Thank you,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Thank you for rescuing me.’
Joe smiled, a flash of white teeth in the dark space. ‘That’s all right.’ Though it was hard to tell in the dimness Sarah sensed he blushed. They’re just children, she thought with a desperate ache.
Ruth said, ‘You helped us. You and your friend.’
Sarah felt a catch at her throat. ‘My friend’s dead.’
‘I know. I saw.’ The girl began to cry again.
Joe peered cautiously out of the alcove. ‘There’s a good few dead out there now.’ His voice was trembling.
‘What happened to you?’ Sarah asked Ruth. ‘Where were they taking you?’
‘They’re taking every registered Jew in London out of the city. We don’t know where. I live at the university halls of residence, they came for us at seven this morning.’ She put her head in her hands.
‘I thought Jews weren’t allowed in the universities any more.’
Joe said, ‘We started just before the law came into force. There’s still a few of us third years left.’ He looked at his girlfriend. ‘You were right, you said they’d come for us one day.’ He turned back to Sarah, his face working with emotion. ‘I thought we were safe, I thought our government wouldn’t let us be shipped off. Offence to national pride, against British fair play,’ he added bitterly. ‘Though they might kick us out of our jobs and businesses, I thought they’d stop short of handing us over to the Germans. But that’s what they’re doing now, it has to be.’
Ruth spoke quietly. ‘Beaverbrook must have agreed this with the Nazis in Berlin.’
Joe shook his head. ‘This must have been planned for some time.’
‘Maybe there was a contingency plan,’ Sarah said. ‘And now the Germans have forced them to implement it. The Civil Service are always making contingency plans, my husband’s a civil servant—’
Joe’s look became instantly hostile. ‘Is he?’
‘He’s in the Dominions Office, they’re not involved in anything like this—’
‘They’re all involved, everyone who works for Beaverbrook and Mosley.’
‘Keep your voice down,’ Ruth urged him.
Joe went on, quietly now, but his voice was still savage. ‘Well, now we know what British fair play’s worth when the chips are down. From the moment we were picked up people just stood watching, drove past in their cars. Kept their heads down.’
‘Except that old man,’ Ruth said. She looked at Sarah. ‘And your friend.’
‘What really turned it was those Jive Boys.’ Joe smiled sadly. ‘Not that they’d care what happened to us, I’ve heard plenty of stories of them beating Jews up. They just saw a fight and joined in.’
Sarah found thoughts rushing through her head. It was because of her that Mrs Templeman came that way. She’d thought her just a bossy old woman. Then she did that incredible act of bravery. Sarah shivered as she realized she could have been killed too. She had feared David might abandon her but it was she who would have abandoned him had she been shot.
The boy took her arm, jolting her back to reality. He said, ‘It’s quiet out there now. It won’t stay that way for long. I’d get out of here while you can. You’ve got your ID card?’
‘Yes.’
‘Where do you live?’
‘Kenton. Out towards Pinner.’
Ruth said, ‘You shouldn’t wear that coat, it stands out. You sat down in the street, they’ll be looking for a fair-haired woman your age in a grey coat.’
Sarah said, ‘Swap coats with me. Lots of people wear duffel coats.’
They stepped out of the alcove, and while Joe watched the entrance the two women switched coats. Ruth’s duffel coat was tight on Sarah. She picked up her handbag and took out her purse. ‘Here, take my money.’ She held out two ten-shilling notes, a handful of silver. ‘Please. I’ve got a return ticket, I don’t need money for anything else.’
Joe looked reluctant but Ruth took the money. ‘Thank you.’
Sarah asked, ‘Where do your families live?’
Ruth said, ‘Mine live in Highgate, they’ll have been picked up too.’ She blushed. ‘I was spending the night with Joe.’
‘Mine are in Bradford. They’re probably rounding up Jews there too.’ Joe’s voice cracked, and Sarah could see he was at the end of his tether. ‘Go now, lady,’ he said roughly. ‘Go on.’
Ruth took her arm. Sarah’s grey coat looked big on her. She said, ‘We’ll never forget what you and your friend did.’
Sarah smiled. ‘Good luck,’ she said, then took a deep breath and stepped outside. Everything was quiet now, nobody in sight. She adjusted her bag on her arm and walked away, in the opposite direction to Tottenham Court Road. More sirens sounded in the distance. Her legs shook like jelly but she made herself walk on, towards the tube station and home.
Chapter Eighteen
IT TOOK LONGER THAN DAVID had expected to find the hospital. Although they were so near Birmingham, they were on narrow country roads shaded by trees, with few signposts, and after a brief period of wet snow it had begun to get foggy. They discussed, again, how he should tackle Frank Muncaster: with sympathy, caution. Afterwards they drove on in silence and David thought about what Natalia had told him about the Slovak Jews. He knew she could have done nothing to help those people and it frightened him. He wondered how Sarah would react if she found out he was half Jewish. She hated what had been done to the Jews in England but that was different from being married to one. He knew prejudices ran very deep, had done even before anti-Jewish propaganda began in the 1940s.
His thoughts were interrupted by Geoff. ‘We’re here,’ he said quietly. They had come to a fork in the road, and a wooden signpost pointed to Bartley Green Asylum. They passed through a little copse and then saw an immense redbrick Victorian building a little way ahead, on top of a low hill, with a big water tower and well-tended grounds surrounded by a high wooden fence, lights shining through the mist. David hadn’t expected it to be so big and imposing.
The road followed the side of the fence to high, iron-barred gates. Beside them was a porter’s lodge with a window overlooking the road. They drove up to it, passing a woman in a dark nurse’s cloak walking towards the gates, and an elderly couple, heads down. David looked through the bars of the gates, down a long straight drive to the big building. Natalia stopped the car. ‘You two go and talk to the porter,’ she said.
Geoff and David got out. It was slightly warmer, but a clammy mist clung to them. They walked up to the window, where the nurse was talking to a porter through a panel. Ahead of them, the old couple stood, silent. The porter was small, elderly, his black uniform reminding David of old Sykes on the Dominions Office front desk. There was even a similar large rack of keys on the wall behind him. Another younger porter was working at a desk beside the plugs and sockets of a switchboard.
‘Been a bit busy with visiting time, but the rush is over now.’ The porter gave the nurse a key and turned to the old couple ahead of David and Geoff. The old man said in a Black Country accent, ‘We’re here to visit our daughter. Amy Lascelles, on Domville Ward.’