Miriam awoke the next morning to the sound of Rietje throwing a tantrum after seeing Miriam’s empty bed. Miss Willy tried to quiet her with the promise of an extra sprinkle of cinnamon on her porridge while Miss Hannie coaxed Frits to stop shouting. Miriam regretted getting close to the girl instead of keeping her feelings walled off from everyone. It had been a mistake. Miss Willy seemed to be standing right beneath the attic hatch when she shouted above the noise, “If you stop right this minute, I promise that Christina will come back and visit tonight. But she won’t come unless you’re a good girl.” It seemed to work. Rietje’s cries tapered off.

It wasn’t the safest option, but when Miriam came down the ladder from the attic that evening, she explained that they were playing a new game. “If you don’t tell anyone where I’m hiding, I’ll play my violin just for you, Rietje, before you go to bed at night.” In the meantime, she asked Miss Hannie to contact Dr. Elzinga and tell him that all three of them needed a new hiding place. “Tell him I’ll be glad to go back to the Mulders’ farm.”

Two days later, the messenger who delivered extra ration coupons to Meijers House returned with Dr. Elzinga’s reply. It wasn’t safe to move anyone at the moment. But there was good news. British paratroopers had landed in the Netherlands near Nijmegen. And American ground forces and tanks had crossed the border from Belgium and had liberated Eindhoven.

“That must be what’s causing so much Nazi movement,” Miss Hannie said.

“Are those places near here?” Miriam asked.

“Nijmegen is at least fifty miles away, I should think,” Miss Hannie replied. Everyone agreed it was good news. But it meant more waiting, and Miriam’s nerves felt on edge every moment. She didn’t dare to hope.

The next morning, Miriam was in the attic with Klara and Tina when a vehicle pulled to a stop in front of Meijers House. Someone pounded on the front door. Tina carried the ladder to the round attic window at the front of the house, below the roof peak. “Nazis!” she mouthed. Klara motioned for her to get down before she was seen. The three women sat very still, straining to listen. A male voice bellowed in a mixture of German and Dutch, shouting louder when he wasn’t making himself understood, as if volume alone could scale the language barrier. Miriam’s panic soared when she figured out what he was trying to say. “They want this house,” she whispered. “For a hospital, I think.”