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I found myself several times at the railway station.

It was one way of picking up news of what was happening elsewhere in Holland,

from people you'd snatch a few words with as they leaned

out of the windows while a train halted. Audrey had taken to leaving the house early these

days, so was to walk the long way to school, where she would become Edda Van Heemstra for the day,

and try to forget about the new people in their home.

Since the death of Uncle Otto and the kidnapping of Jan and Alexander, the Baroness's bitterness towards the Germans had turned almost pathological. The resistance men had arrived

in the middle of the night, so Audrey supposed, for they were not there when she went to sleep one evening, and when she arrived at breakfast the next morning, three young faces were already at the table, and Audrey was being told not to ask any questions.

Even their names were not offered. Better to protect themselves, they were told.

They were gone for most of the day and huddled in Mermot conference when they did arrive back.

But their social manners were of no importance to Audrey or the Baroness.

The last thing they wanted was a house of merriment or parties, or even loud

conversation, and so a strange schism appeared through the middle of the Van Heemstra apartment,

with Audrey, her mother and her grandfather on one side, and the Dutch resistance fighters on the

other. Each morning, Audrey would escape early and walk to several blocks westward, so as to pass directly through the train station, where hopefully a lowered window would contain the face of a traveller eager to give up information about the country at large. But news was only part of the reason. In Audrey's most unrealistic dreams, the steam from a resting locomotive would part as she approached

to reveal the tall, dark figure of her father, one bag in his hand, who dropped to his knees as she

...