Red Rainbow G Johanson (i am malala young readers edition .txt) 📖

anyone his public beneficiary for fear of consequences for them after his death. That’s why he disassociated with you all. He knew he was exiting stage left and wanted his final act to be the end of the story. Whether you view him as a hero or a coward, the truth is he deserted you all to face the music. I wager the money is with a Resistance faction.”

Patience didn’t verbally respond. She stared thoughtfully at him, showing him that she was considering his theory. In truth, she was considering how close to the truth he was (the only bit he had wrong as far as she could tell concerned the money – Deveral had exhausted his finances running the white elephant that the theatre had become during the war). But where did that leave her?

“It could be worth your while putting your affairs in order too. 85 German soldiers died. We need to get to the bottom of this.”

“I just don’t know what else I can tell you.”

“And I don’t have that many more questions to ask you. That would mean I pass this on to one of my colleagues.”

“But I won’t have anything fresh to say to him.” Patience preferred to keep dealing with Kretschmer if this had to go further. Even when accusing her of being evasive and economical with the truth, he did not raise his voice. There was a degree of civility and honesty. The honesty was scary as he was realistic with her about her prospects, virtually admitting that she was in danger of being made a scapegoat. Even taking all this into account, she’d still stick with him over the alternatives she’d seen and the unknown bogeymen she hadn’t. Kretschmer seemed the best of a bad bunch.

“That’s something you and he will have to work through. You’re free to go. Think about what I am saying to you.”

Florence led Hilaire to the dresser’s home well past the curfew. They would have no choice but to use force on this occasion if they were stopped. Florence assured Hilaire that the dresser was safely tucked up in bed, energy still present. The spy florist had only deserted his post briefly the previous day, quite possibly on a toilet break, the ladies passing him as they finished the stakeout. His innocence was still in question, but the dresser’s safety went in his favour as his guilt had certainly not been proved.

Hilaire and Florence bickered all the way back, Florence provoking an argument by an unhelpful observation. Her home’s better than yours. It was true (had she wanted to be pedantic, Hilaire could have responded that Florence had only seen the exterior of the dresser’s home and had not seen her home at all – and this comment came out of reserve and into play later as the disagreement waged on), but the greater issue was Florence’s staggered surprise. Why shouldn’t it be? It was no wonder Florence hated the Communist cause. A future where all men and women were equal didn’t tally with her belief system. She claimed she could not be racist as she was the one who wanted to check on the dresser. It was a weak argument, but they were reasonably satisfied that the girl was safe and that was all that mattered. They could only assume that the Gestapo ruled her out as merely a theatre contact of Deveral Meyer’s, just a grieving former employee. Finding the old man was going to be harder for he was one of a rare breed, unsampled by Florence. How to find him? Quiz the girl and scare her half to death, or try the rabbi or whoever ran the service?

Chapter 5

The Ink Path

Patience had doubts about meeting up with Mthandeni after the callback from the Gestapo. Mthandeni had managed to wangle Patience an interview with her foreman. The position was sewing machinist on a meagre wage, but the fashion house brand had a certain cachet, plus there was scope for promotion. Mthandeni was higher up now than she was when she started back in ’38. This interview had been arranged before the funeral. It had been arranged she’d meet Mthandeni at her bus stop and travel in with her. She’d be letting her down by not attending the interview and letting her down even more by not informing her. And letting her down in a more crucial, life or death way, by meeting her.

Patience did go and meet her in the end. She was going crazy cooped up in the house waiting to hear a car pull up, waiting for them to pull her in for further questioning. They hadn’t even arrested her yet – they had no need to as she could obviously not refuse to accompany them. Other commuters were at the bus stop, including one mother and her teenage daughter who pushed in the queue ahead of them, the daughter resistant to doing this, forced to by her mother’s insistence that she’d not be standing, inferring she was more worthy of a seat than others. Patience and Mthandeni didn’t let her comments derail their conversation, such actions so routine that they often barely acknowledged them. Because of the other commuters being so close to them in the compacted queue, Patience had to whisper to Mthandeni why it wasn’t a good idea for her to attend the interview.

“You’ve done nothing wrong. There won’t be a second chance if you don’t show today.”

“They told me to put my affairs in order. It’s serious.”

“They wouldn’t let you go if that was the case. Come with me and forget about it.” Mthandeni downplayed the seriousness of it, not fully comprehending the gravity of the situation. She wasn’t a morning person, hence why she ate a sandwich on the bus, lacking time to have breakfast at home. She was more awake as they walked the final strait of the two-stage journey, her stance completely changed upon weighing it all up. “I