"Punished for what? I don't understand."
"No. You could not." Erika seemed to shrink into her chair. "But I suppose I must tell you, because it has to do with the brooch, and if my silence is in some way responsible for that girl's death-"
Gemma bit her lip. She had never had the chance to tell Erika about Harry Pevensey, but now was not the time. "Please," she said, leaning forward and touching Erika's hand. "What happened?"
Erika gripped Gemma's hand, then let hers fall to her lap. Her eyes lost focus. After a moment she began to speak, so softly that Gemma had to strain to hear.
"I told Kit, just a little. About how my father's work was patronized by the wealthy Germans, and how he did not believe that we would be touched by the madness being spouted by the Nazis. But by 1938, it became evident even to my father that things were out of control, that there was no surety of safety for any Jew. And I had married David.
"David had been a lecturer at the university, in philosophy-we Germans had always been great believers in philosophy, much good it did us-and after the Nazis banned Jews from faculty positions in all the German universities, David tutored students privately. Many Jewish professors did-it was a way round the restrictions."
Gemma thought of the difference in ages between Erika and her husband. "You were David's student?"
"Yes." Erika gave a ghost of a smile. "The age-old story. Naive young girl falls in love with wise older man. And David was a radical, who spoke out against Hitler's regime, and that recklessness made him all the more appealing. As for him, I think he was flattered by my attention, and he saw himself as furthering my political and intellectual education. I don't think he was ever in love with me, but of course I didn't know that then.
"But David's outspokenness made my father even more concerned for our safety, and he made arrangements to get us out of the country. It would cost, we were told, but there was a man who would take us out through the Netherlands and from there into England. My father said we should go first, and that he would follow when he knew we were safe.
"There was another couple, older, friends of my father's, who would go with us. They vouched for this man, Mueller"-Erika did not glance at the photo-"and they paid him handsomely, as did my father.
"When we parted, my father gave me the diamond brooch, the last thing he had made, to keep secretly. Not even David knew of it."
Now she looked up and met Gemma's eyes. "He was a big, handsome man, this Mueller, with a Berliner accent. He said he had many connections. He had a small van, with the markings of a carpet firm, and he had papers showing that he and his helper were salesmen. We rode in the back, with instructions to cover ourselves with the carpets if we were stopped.
"The first night we stopped at a traveler's hotel. We were allowed out only to relieve ourselves in the darkest part of the night, and once back in the van we were given a little black bread. David and the other man, Saul, began to complain, but when they saw Mueller's face, they stopped."
Gemma had to still the impulse to stand and move about. She didn't dare even to drink from the glass of water, for fear of halting Erika's story.
"The next night," Erika went on, "we stopped at a farm very near the Dutch border. As I said, I was never sure of the exact location. Once it was dark, we were taken out of the van and led into the barn. We thought we would be fed and allowed to sleep in the straw. But that was not the case." Erika paused, clasping her hands together, and Gemma held her breath, fighting a wave of nausea.
When Erika continued, her voice was a thread of sound. "Mueller had a gun. His helper held the gun on the others while Mueller raped me. Then Mueller held the gun. Then they did the same with Sarah. When Saul tried to stop them, Mueller shot him. When they were finished with Sarah, he shot her."
Gemma swallowed. The smell of the lilies was sickly sweet, overpowering. She realized she had tears running down her cheeks, but Erika's eyes were dry. "And David?" Gemma managed to croak.
"David did nothing," Erika said without intonation. "Mueller found the brooch when they stripped me. To this day, I don't know why they didn't shoot us then. Perhaps they weren't finished with me. Perhaps they enjoyed humiliating David. Or perhaps, having found the brooch, they thought they might somehow get more money from my father if they kept us alive.
"They tied us up, on the floor of the barn, beside Saul's and Sarah's bodies. I suppose they went into the farmhouse to drink. We heard laughter and shouting."
She took a little gulping breath. "David didn't speak to me. Not a word, all that night. Just before dawn, the farmer came out and untied us. He gave us some money and told us in which direction to run, towards the border. I have always been afraid that he and his family must have died for his kindness.
"We ran, stumbling in the dark, hiding at any sound, and by daylight we found we were in Holland. Some people fed us and helped us get to a Jewish aid organization. From there we came to London. We were penniless, and I was…injured." She met Gemma's eyes, then looked away. "I had started to bleed after they raped me, and it only got worse. By the time we reached London, I had lost my baby. A girl. I was very ill. For a time they thought I might not live. And the doctors told me I would have no more children."
"Erika," Gemma managed to whisper, "why did you never tell me?"
"I thought-I thought it would only add to your pain. And I-I had never spoken of it to anyone. Not even-" She shook her head. "And we-David and I-he could never bear to touch me afterwards. Perhaps he felt I was defiled. But I think it was also that he felt he had failed me, failed himself, failed utterly as a man.
"He became a shell, a ghost of a man. Until he began to write his book and to speak with strangers in whispers. I never knew what he was writing, or who these people were. I suppose I was a coward myself, because I did not ask. It was only when Gavin told me what he suspected that I began to guess what David had been doing."
Of course Erika would have known Gavin, Gemma realized. He had interviewed her. She started to ask, but Erika began to speak again. "Perhaps David felt retribution would somehow absolve him. But if, on that day, he saw a photo of Joseph Mueller in an English newspaper-Mueller was here, in London?"
"In Chelsea. He lived not far from Cheyne Gardens."
"Chelsea? My God." Erika was trembling. She pressed her clasped hands to her lips, then dropped them again as she said, "I would never have thought to glance at the society page-such things had no interest for me. But David-David always read whatever newspaper he bought from front page to back. It was a compulsion. If he had seen that photo, he would have found where this man-"
"Miller."
Erika nodded. "Miller. Where Miller lived. But if David went to his house, how did he…"
Gemma finished it for her. "End up in Cheyne Gardens? Maybe Miller arranged to meet him there. To talk."
"Yes." Erika nodded. "David still expected people to talk, to be rational, even after everything that had happened."
"But Miller would never have allowed David to connect him with his past. It's said his money came from construction after the war, but he had to have started with something-"
"The profit from theft, and murder. Mueller, Miller," Erika said slowly. "His family must have been Germans who Anglicized their name. That would explain his fluency with the language, his knowledge of the countryside, how easy it was for him to go back to the German version of his name, to pretend to be German."