I lift Evelien into her seat. Once she starts eating, I proceed into the kitchen and interject quietly, “Please, there must be a way out sooner for us.” I need to convey it’s not a matter of impatience, yet without including details that would endanger these people more. “The girl…they’re searching for her. The longer we stay, the more treacherous it could be for anyone around.”

The clerk and his daughter absorb this, trading heavy glances. Then she says to her father, “There is another option.”

He shushes at her to stop.

“What is it?” I ask. “Tell me.”

He frowns. “It is no trip for a woman, much less a child.”

“At least let me hear it.” I press when he hesitates. “Sir.”

He’s vacillating, even as he concedes: “There’s a boat headed for England.”

“England?” I’m half thinking I misheard him. “When?”

His daughter answers for him. “Tonight.”

A thrill must show in my face because the clerk adds sternly, “There are patrols to navigate, and the waves and currents. To say nothing of the Germans’ Atlantic Wall defenses.”

I’ve heard vaguely of the coastline fortifications—bunkers and batteries, anti-aircraft guns and trenches—having no idea how extensive they’ve become with so many countries to cover.

The teenager pipes in again, still directed at me. “My father is right about this, generally speaking. But manpower has been limited, same for materials and fuel, so construction here has been slow.”

I attempt to clarify. “In other words, this leaves narrow openings through the waterways.”

She nods. “There are indeed risks, but the skipper has done this many times.”

On this point, the clerk seems unable to argue.

I consider the factors, weighing them as I’ve always done. If a boat crew plans to leave, they must believe they can sneak through. And it’s not as if hiking the Swiss Alps was going to be easy street, as the guide and airmen’s deaths have only further proven. Every train ride and stop, every safe house and contact, increases our odds of capture. That’s presuming I could even acquire new travel papers…

Still all that aside, is sailing in darkness through the middle of a war complete insanity?

I look at Evelien nibbling on her bread. She appears so tiny in her chair, wholly reliant on me for protection. Our continued survival is based on impossible choices. On a feeling in my gut, a tug in my heart. On my hope that prayers and luck will be enough.

Gathering my courage, I turn back to the clerk. “Where do we board the boat?”

Chapter 80