The women seemed delighted to have someone new to talk with, and they shared their stories with Miriam. Lies and her daughters —Julie, who was sixteen, and Betsie, who was fourteen —were from Amsterdam and had gone into hiding during the roundups with the help of her husband’s Gentile business partner. Lies’s husband and son were also hiding, but she had no idea where. Alie was eighteen, also from Amsterdam, and the daughter of a rabbi. “I’m the oldest, and Abba found a hiding place for me first. I have no idea if my parents or any of my six siblings escaped the roundups. Abba has a special stamp on his papers, which is supposed to give him favored status, but . . .” Her words trailed off. All four women had been in hiding for as long as Miriam had, most of that time here on the Mulders’ farm.

Miriam told her story quickly, needing to scrape past the pain. She knew it made her sound unfeeling, but then the others had sounded brusque too as they’d spoken of their families. It was better not to feel any emotion, she’d decided, than to store up the pain until it destroyed her the way Eloise’s grief continually threatened to do.

“You must miss your husband and child,” Lies said softly. “I know how much I miss mine.”

“Yes.” Miriam couldn’t think about them. Wouldn’t think about them. The low drone of airplanes sounded in the distance, growing louder and closer until the planes rumbled heavily above the chicken coop, rattling the walls.

“We hear firefights sometimes,” Alie said. “And bombs exploding.”

“Have you heard any news of the war?” Lies asked. “Is there any chance of it ending soon so we can have our lives back?”

“I’m not sure. The people I was staying with had to turn in their radio a few months ago. The newspapers are run by the Nazis, and they always claim to be winning.” The little room grew darker as they talked and night fell. The chickens seemed to have settled down too, and except for the sound of crickets, the night grew still. Miriam wondered how she would sleep without the rumbling, rustling noises of the city. She heard someone yawn.

“I’m tired,” Lies said. “Maybe we should all turn in for the night.”

“It’s all of us or none of us,” Alie said testily. “You’ll learn that soon enough.”

“How do you see what you’re doing in the dark?” Miriam asked.

“We’re used to it,” Julie said. “We each have our own little space.”