Marianne returned to the verandah, but not to her typewriter. Instead she stood feasting her eyes on the view, the lush vegetation, palm trees gently swaying and beyond, the ocean seeming as smooth as azure glass.

‘Why the rueful expression?’ Simon inquired after hearing the gist of her conversation with Laura.

‘I had to come and live in Bermuda to find out I’m not indispensable!’

‘And as my agent would say, every author should have such a punishment. It isn’t like you not to see the funny side, hon.’

‘I do.’

‘But you expected the clan to fall apart without you. When it comes to the crunch, family-wise and otherwise, our people have a history of doing the opposite. It’s what we’re renowned for and why we’ve survived to tell the tale.’

Simon came to stand beside her. ‘You’ve done your bit, Marianne. Time to rest on your laurels.’

Though Marianne would not have put it that way, the parallel Simon had drawn was as balm to her soul. Since the Sandbergs and Moritzes put down roots in England, eight decades ago, their seed had scattered. But the unity bred in us in the home, generation after generation, is still going strong, and so it was for Jewry itself. The two were inextricable and there could be no stronger weapon against the renewed attempts, overt or insidious, to complete the task Hitler had begun.

Marianne switched her mind to matters more mundane. ‘I made us some tuna sandwiches for lunch.’

‘Why don’t you go get ’em, while I cover our typewriters? Those little yellow birds that waken us in the mornings are liable to gunge up the works again when we’re taking our lunchtime stroll!’

Such was the peaceful pattern of their days – the shared interest their work was to them, the loving companionship of their marriage. Minutes later they were walking, hands entwined, beside the surf.

What more, thought Marianne, could a woman in her autumn years ask? For herself, nothing.

‘When the guest room’s fixed up, I’d like to invite Howard and Karin to stay,’ she said, halting to pick up a cowrie shell. ‘They could use a break, and without the socializing that goes on in hotels. My sister-in-law who lives on the West Bank too.’

‘You’ll never change, Marianne.’

‘If I did, I wouldn’t be the person you married. Any regrets?’

They sat down on the sand to eat their lunch and Simon eyed the filling oozing from the bread roll Marianne handed him. ‘Only when she forgets to go easy with the mayonnaise on my sandwich, like she did today.’

Acknowledgements

My editor, Marjory Chapman.

Stephen Mosco and Miranda Selby for assistance with research in Germany and Austria.

The Institute of Jewish Affairs Library.

Next in Almonds and Raisins series:

New Beginnings