Her mother told her she was a silly girl, that she had made arrangements, that there was no need for her to have come all the way over. But Anna knew that her mother was grateful, aware that it would be much safer for her back in England. Give me a day to pack, she said, and then we can go. Just one day, Anna had insisted, and no longer, please, Mother, really no longer. Tomorrow we must go, for Bernhard is waiting.

And then they came, from the skies. Anna and her mother tried to get on a train, but there were no trains. Thousands of people were trying to go west, everyone except for those who had decided that it was not worth it, that it was better to stay put. But Anna and her mother tried—they had to leave. They paid a neighbor handsomely to drive them as far as possible, but the roads were clogged, and the police turned them back. So they walked, leaving everything but a suitcase containing photographs and jewelry.

At the end of the day, she knew they were not going to make it. Her mother told her to go on, go home, go back to your family, but Anna could not abandon her. Leave me, her mother insisted, my life is nearly over anyway, you should save yourself—John and Amy need you. Anna was torn apart, but her mother was right—they would never make it. That night, their last night together, they stayed with a farmer, who did not ask for any money. They slept badly, sharing a small bed, and the next morning they said goodbye, in the mud of the farmyard, the sound of geese filling the air.

She never found Bernhard—he and his boat had gone. He had been strict with her about when they had to leave, and no doubt he had gone as soon as he heard the news. She cursed him, but perhaps he was right. Nobody else was willing to make the voyage, not for all the money in the world, so she was trapped.

She decided to head back to her mother. It took her two days, and when she arrived, she noticed the neighbors’ curtains were twitching. It was not until she had been knocking on her mother’s door for five minutes that Mrs. Kruyper from next door eventually came out. She had looked worried, clutching her necklace. You had better come in, she said to Anna, come in and sit down. So Anna went into Mrs. Kruyper’s house, and Mrs. Kruyper said that there was no other way to say it, but they had found her mother yesterday. Found her where? Found her with her head in the oven, said Mrs. Kruyper. They said that she had looked very peaceful, very serene, that she had obviously not suffered. Obviously, said Anna, wondering how much more wrong they could have been.